Cooking and Life

The above picture is of my little kitchen.

This picture basically encompasses my cooking experience.

There's my microwave. That is my main source of cooking. Ryan works a lot of nights so I don't have a chance to really cook a big supper. Soup, pizza, burritos- those cook very nicely in the microwave. It's quick and easy. If the microwave broke, I'd be in some serious trouble.

On top of the microwave are some bananas. That shows my feeble attempts to eat healthy and to get in back into shape. Being unemployed has really taken it's toll on my body. I am the heaviest I have ever been in my life. Ugh....

You might not be able to see but I have TONS of cookbooks. One is titled "Cooking for Dummies" and another is "Where is Mom Now That I Need Her?" Yes, I am a horrible cook and even these books are a bit above my level! Maybe someday when Ryan's schedule evens out I can dive into these books and really learn how to make a scrumptious meal.

You might be wondering what that little white thing is on the control panel thingy of the stove. (Yeah, so I don't know "stove" terms!) It's a holy card of St. Jude. St. Jude is the patron saint of impossible cases. Maybe I need more confidence, but my thinking is that it's impossible for me to make a good meal...or at least I think it is impossible to control my temper when I cook.

My temper and patience are not the best when it comes to cooking. I am waaaaay too much of a perfectionist. I get mad when my dishes aren't cooking right. I become almost enraged when spaghetti sauce splatters (especially on ME!) I get frustrated when my side dish is ready to be served and my main course is nowhere near ready and I haven't even put the garlic bread in the oven. I stomp. I yell. Sometimes I am in near tears. A couple times my husband has come in and asked if he needed to get the Holy Water. I never find his jokes funny when I'm grumpy. :-)

I want everything to turn out perfectly and when it doesn't I get upset.

It's the same way when I want my life to go a certain way and it doesn't. Many times I have had a "life plan." I have these goals and I'm determined that they go according to plan. But sometimes God throws us a curveball. That job I thought I would get is given to someone else. The town I was certain I would move to after graduation is almost two hours away from where I ended up. The baby growing inside me is taken to heaven much sooner than I planned.

As you can see from my previous posts I have had many life plans that didn't pan out. At the time I was frustrated and angry. But looking back I thank God that many of "my" plans didn't work out and His did.

After all, God is all knowing. He knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows what is best for us. It has taken me a long time to finally "let go, and let God." I still struggle with trusting Him sometimes. Sometimes it takes a very long time to understand why God changes our plans. But we have to take comfort in knowing that He loves us more than anything or anyone ever will and He wants our ultimate happiness. That may include some suffering. We will understand in the end.

So someday I will learn how to cook. Maybe when I'm an old grannie my grandkids will be shocked that I once was clueless in the kitchen. (A girl can dream right?)

P.S. The meal cooking on the stove is Hamburger Helper. Really fancy, right?

Keep it Simple, SILLY!

OK, so maybe I write too much. I just read another woman's blog and she shared her conversion story. She used to be an atheiest, then a Christian, then landed home with the Catholic Church.

Her story was only two parts.

Mine was FOUR!

OK, well maybe her entire blog is devoted to her conversion story, but STILL!

I promise I will try and keep future posts a little less wordy. Also, try to focus on the good in my life. This was just a defining moment in my life and wanted people really know what was going on in my life.

I just have so many thoughts up there- I need to get it out somehow!

Good gracious...I'm getting wordy again.

Bye bye!

My Spiritual Growth Spurt Part IV

At the end of July I moved into a small studio apartment in Atchison, Kansas. I started right away at Wal-Mart. It was a scary and exciting time for me. While my former classmates were starting their junior year of college I was working full-time to try and save up money to go to the technical college to become a nurse.

Life was quiet but content for me. No wild parties, no big life-changing decisions. I made friends at Wal-Mart, but didn’t hang out with them outside of work. I certainly stayed out of trouble.

I worked up the nerve to introduce myself to J and E, a young newlywed couple who lived above me. I noticed their car had a rosary hanging from the rear-view window. I noticed a lot of cars around town with rosaries. It was weird.

Days before I moved to Atchison, I learned that my Uncle Dave had been diagnosed with lung cancer. I was very upset. He and I had become very close during the past couple of years. Remember, he was the one always giving Catholic books. And although I had no desire to read them (pretty obvious considering my previous posts) I thoroughly enjoyed listening to him, Uncle Alan and my mom discussing religion. There were many Church teachings that I disagreed with, but seeing their fervor made me yearn to learn more, but the partying and other junk in my life got in the way of my motivation.

Uncle Dave was a very holy and devout Catholic. But he wasn’t all seriousness; he had a playful sparkle in his eye and always encouraged me to have a wine cooler or two so it would loosen me to sing at family reunions. He always had a silly pose when someone took a picture.

I remember praying hard for Dave to beat the cancer. I also remember feeling a little guilty because I suddenly realized that I only prayed to God when I wanted something. I shook off those feelings and remained steadfast in prayer.

I suppose since it was cancer I wasn’t too alarmed at first. There’s always that hope that one can beat it. If not, then usually there’s months or years left for the patient. I was expecting much more time with my dear uncle.

However, just like with Mick, the situation progressed quickly. Within about three short weeks of his cancer diagnosis, Uncle Dave was in the hospital with a mask over his mouth and nose that helped him breathe. He was in the hospital for about six days and my mom and I tried to visit often. The doctors were not hopeful that he would be with us for long. Everyone was praying hard and a lot of our family came together.

While visiting him in the hospital I could see he was very frustrated that he couldn’t talk and communicate. I was always used to him being in a jovial mood; seeing him like this was heartbreaking. However, one day when mom and I were leaving the hospital we said, “We’ll see you soon.” He gave us a huge heartfelt wave good bye.

That was the last time we saw him. He died later that night with surrounded by his family. When the phone rang at our house at nearly one o’clock in the morning I woke with a startle and realized I was still clutching my rosary. I knew what the phone call was about.

Just like with Mick’s death, everything was a blur. One thing I remember vividly was going to confession shortly before Dave’s funeral, mostly in memory of him. Sure, I had been to confession a couple times in high school, but it wasn’t ever a heartfelt confession. I poured my heart and soul out to my priest. I had many shameful sins and I was scared to death telling them to a man I had known for years. But I mustered the courage and confessed all the dirty, ugly sins that clouded my soul. When he gave me Absolution I saw tears in his eyes. Catholics believe when we confess we are taking our sins directly to Jesus, but the priest is standing in for the Son of God. I believed I saw Christ’s tears through my priest welcoming me home. I felt so light, so free. I could feel the graces pouring over my soul.

However, I still had temptations to be angry at God. He kept taking away those I loved most from my life. I was still angry that he had denied my family a miracle. But instead of turning my back on Him like I had so many times previously, I decided to face Him and move forward.

Too many times had I been focused on the dying aspect of my loved one’s deaths. For the first time I really thought about what happens after death. My lovable uncles were in Heaven- face to face with God the Almighty. They got to meet the Virgin Mary and saints. They got to talk to Christ. They got to see their parents and grandparents again. They were free from sadness, sorrow and pain. They were blessedly happy. That boggled my mind. I wanted to see them again someday and experience all that. That meant I needed to change my ways.

I started to devour all the books Uncle Dave had given me. That triggered a thirst to learn more about the Catholic faith. There were many things I had disagreed with the Church on but soon I realized just how ignorant I had been regarding these teachings. I had been too stubborn and proud to learn WHY something was considered wrong (example: abortion) or WHY we had to do certain things (always go to Mass, fast during Lent, etc.) I finally learned the WHY’s, and realized I had robbed myself of beautiful and life-changing teachings.

No longer could I depend solely on myself for happiness.

I had to put God first in my life. Always.

I couldn’t just run to Him when I needed something: to keep a boyfriend, to ease unhappiness, to save a loved one from death.

I needed to include Him in everything and order to do that I couldn’t just say “I’m a Christian.” I needed to actually get off my butt and go to Mass and Confession regularly to receive the graces Christ gives us through these Sacraments. I needed to pray in thanksgiving and praise. I needed to pick up a Bible and study it. I needed to stop sleeping with a rosary under my pillow and actually pray it. I needed to change my ways of thinking that I was always right and needed to humble myself to realize that I am not in charge and that I can’t just make up my own rules and truths.

This wasn’t another emotional "Jesus high" that would soon fade. I had faith, knowledge and grace to help me. I felt so incredibly happy and free.

I talked to my upstairs neighbor J about my re-discovery of the faith. She was a devout Catholic and exclaimed, “You’ve had a spiritual growth spurt!” I wasn’t really a convert to the faith since I had been born Catholic, and I never was a full-fledged agnostic or atheist. I had an infantile form of spirituality before, but it had grown into a sort of spiritual teenager form.

For the first time I looked forward to going to Church. I was shocked at what I saw. I did not observe the usual scene I pictured at Mass; you know, the devout old ladies clutching to their rosaries, parents wrangling their fussy children, and teenagers with comatose expressions. Instead I saw the church full of people my age, my age, and they certainly were not in a comatose state. They were fully enjoying their time at Mass. When Mass was over instead of everyone making a mad dash for the exit most all of them knelt down in prayer. I knew I was in the right place.

Through the encouragement of J and E I decided to apply to Benedictine College. It was during the school’s Christmas break (December 20th) that I went and talked to the admissions office and explained that while I had really horrible grades from college, I was a top student in high school and vowed I would work hard. Three days after Christmas I gave my mom the best late-Christmas gift I could give: I was accepted to Benedictine College.

I later learned that my mom had prayed two novenas (a series of prayers): one when I went to my first college visit to Benedictine and the other when I first moved to Atchison. I think I was always meant to end up in Atchison and fully embrace my faith. I just think I took the long, long, looooong way to get there!

I still sin. I am far from being a holy person. I still suffer from doubts sometimes. But praise be to Him- our God is so merciful! I am happy to be a daughter of God.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Every story of conversion is the story of blessed defeat.”

Thank God for my own defeat.

An Apology

Just a little side note: I sincerely apologize if anyone is offended by my conversion story. I honestly tried to be as objective as possible. I was very careful in not sharing too much about everything and what I said about others. I am focusing on my own wrong doings and no one elses. Trust me, I did not put in every little detail. Yes, I had some wild child days. I was sinful. However, I had some good days too. Some conversion stories are much worse than mine. But what’s the point of a conversion story? One reason is to help others in their spiritual journey. I did not put my story for the whole world to read for my own gain. Parts of my story are difficult to tell. It brings up a lot of buried emotions.

Lorraine Murray wrote in her conversion story, “I wondered if it was presumptuous to believe that the details of my life were special enough to record for others to read.” I wonder the same thing. Part of the reason I write this blog is to inspire and encourage others. If you have a problem with what I share then read my Warning Blog. I did not name names in my story, but if anyone wants to be taken out I will be more than happy to.

Again, I didn't mean to offend or upset anyone.

My Spiritual Growth Spurt Part III

The early part of 2004 was pretty uneventful for the most part. I was living with my mom and working the evening shift as maintenance and housekeeping at a nearby hospital.

My boyfriend had quit college soon after I did and worked at a factory. I tried to spend as much time as I could with him. We were pretty serious, talking occasionally of marriage, but I think perhaps I was more serious about our future than he was. I dreamt of getting married, starting a family and living a happy little life and I depended on him to provide that for me. As soon as he started drifting away from our future plans even just a little bit I would despair. I became so attached to him that I started to equate life apart from him as a life full of pain and unhappiness.

I look back on my journal when I dated him and am appalled at my attachment to him- it was completely unhealthy. He never once physically hurt me, but emotionally, well, this relationship was not a good one. My life consisted of work and being with him. I prayed to God fervently that our romance would last forever. The relationship was increasingly getting worse.

While I was working away at the hospital I had a yearning to go back to college. I automatically decided to go to Northwest in Maryville, even though just a year earlier I had vowed never to go there. However, my mom informed me that she and my uncle had signed me up to take a campus visit at some college I had never heard of- Benedictine College. It was in a town I had never heard of- Atchison, Kansas. I did NOT want to go, but grudgingly decided to go to humor my uncle and appease my mother.

We went during the college's spring break, so there were barely any students on campus. It was a tiny campus nestled beside the Missouri River. I remember the tour guide taking us to the river over-look and stated that many people found their spouses while attending this college. I felt an excitement in my soul, but it was odd, because I briefly pictured myself going to this college and finding my soul mate- and it wasn't my boyfriend at the time. (Little did I know that picture would someday come true!)

I was shocked at myself because I ended up falling in love with the quaint little campus. I really felt a pull to apply there, but it was too small for me and too Catholic. Instead of praying to God for guidance on which college to go to, I relied on myself to make the choice. Even though I enjoyed my visit to Benedictine, it was too far away from my boyfriend and friends. Northwest was my choice.

Soon after this visit I was happy to learn my boyfriend was planning on moving to Maryville with some friends. However that happiness was short lived when he broke up with me in May. I was devastated and fell into a deep depression. I honestly thought my life was over.

I spent the rest of that summer working at the hospital, taking a summer class and desperately trying to get my ex-boyfriend back. I took great measures to seem aloof and that I had "moved on" and didn't need him. I would go to parties at his house and flirt with other guys and pretend to have a great time drinking and dancing. Again, I started bargaining with God to bring him back to me. It wasn't working and slowly I drifted away from trying to win him back. I focused on living my life and having fun.

When the fall semester started I worked part time at Wal Mart and lived in a big, albeit crappy house with my cousin, my best friend and a great friend I had known since before kindergarten. My best friend was going to nursing school and was rarely seen since she was a good student and actually did her homework and studied.

The rest of us, however, hit up the party scene right away. We were young, single and looking to have a good, wild time. We spent hours getting ourselves ready to go party and when we entered a room we made sure people paid notice to us.

Unfortunately, my partying (and maybe Sims 2) got in the way of me going to class. I preferred to sleep in and nurse my hangovers. Again I got into the same cycle as I did at CMSU: not going to class and getting far behind. I wouldn't show up for tests or midterms, or even finals and I really didn't care. I was having too much fun with my roomies. My cousin and I would blare Beatles music and sing at the top of our lungs. My other friend and I would dance to techno music and laugh hysterically. My best friend and I would watch our favorite TV shows religiously.

Oddly enough during this time I prayed a lot. I slept with a rosary under my pillow. I only went to Mass once, and that was when my mom took me. It wasn't much, but my relationship with God was much more substantial than it had been earlier.

Then my ex boyfriend that I had tried so hard to win back came creeping back into my life. He sent me dozens of roses and stuffed animals. I could have easily been lured back in, but God put someone special into my life...

He and I both worked at Wal-Mart and got to know each other at a party. He was sweet and kind and treated me with the up most respect. Being his girl made me realize that my former relationship was indeed a disastrous one. I got to know his friends and we all had a lot of fun together. I finally felt I was in a stable and healthy relationship, and for the first time I felt I could be in a romance and still be myself and independent.

I was falling head over heels for this boy. But I wasn't scared; I welcomed what the future held for us. When I decided not to return to Northwest for the spring semester and work full time at Wal-Mart he supported me. (At this point, nothing I did really shocked my mother anymore.)

We only dated a couple of months, but when he broke things off a couple days before Christmas I was severely heartbroken. This was a different kind of pain than before. I know it seems silly that I was so upset, but I just didn't understand what was wrong with me. Why didn't anyone want to be with me? Did I naturally repel men?

Once again I had a sad Christmas, but I decided for the upcoming year not to depend on God or anyone else, especially a guy, to make me happy. I could only count on myself. I didn't care about morals, my reputation- anything. I turned my back on God, almost to the point where I stopped believing in Him. It wasn't the fault of any of my ex boyfriends, my experiences at CMSU, or anything else. I was just tired of waiting around for God to give me a sign.

The next few months were a drunken blur. I partied hard almost every night of the week and frequently came to work hungover. My partying ways at CMSU and the previous summer were tame compared to what I was doing. Even though I had sworn off men, I stumbled from guy to guy hoping they'd save me from myself and take care of me only to suffer heart ache after heart ache.

I had a "I don't give a crap" attitude for so long that I became emotionally numb. I didn't care that I was hurting my body. I didn't care that I was hurting my soul. I didn't care that I was destroying my future.

I started dating another guy and while I was with him I actually toned down my wild ways. I was still utterly unhappy. I really, really hated my life. I didn't get a promotion at Wal-Mart like my manager said would happen. My boyfriend and I fought constantly. The lease was up at our house and my friends and I were moving to different places. I was going to miss them terribly.

That summer I moved in with an amazing girl I knew from working at Wal Mart. I know God sent her into my life for a reason. She was in a loving, committed relationship, drank occasionally and was a well-rounded, fun-loving person. She knew I was unhappy in my relationship, never judged, but let me know that I deserved better. She had quit college the same time I did and was planning on going to school to become an X-ray tech. She had a good plan for the future.

I realized I needed a plan too. I was just stumbling around waiting for something good to happen in my life. But how could something good happen when I was doing so many bad things? Nothing was going good for me in Maryville. I was stuck in a rut. I realized I needed to get away. Not run away from my problems like I had with CMSU, but get a fresh start.

I needed to move to a place where I knew nobody. Far enough away from home but close enough to come back often. I thought about St. Joseph, even Kansas City.

Even though I had shut God out of my life, His love is so infinite and He hadn't given up on me. I am confident that it was under His inspiration that I decided to move to Atchison, KS. It must have been a good thing, because when I told my mom she was actually happy with my decision!

All my friends, especially my wonderful roomie were very supportive of me. My boyfriend on the other hand was not too happy. Our relationship fizzled out. That summer was filled with making plans to transfer to Atchison's Wal-Mart, finding a cheap apartment and preparing for a new life on my own.

Things were finally looking up. But there was still one more little hurdle I needed to cross before I fully embraced my faith.


Only one more part to go....I promise!

My Spiritual Growth Spurt Part II

I need to back up a bit.

My mom is from a BIG Catholic family- seven kids (she's the youngest AND the only girl!) Her mother was a devout Catholic so my mom and her siblings were raised that way, but as they grew up some fell away from the faith completely and others remained Catholic by name only and entered their "dark years." (Hey, that's what they call it!)

However, as I was being my regular teenage self, my mom, brother and some of my uncles were slowly re-discovering their Catholic faith. My mom and I call the year 2000 "The Year of Holiness." That was the year I was confirmed (and when we started going back to church), the year my older brother was confirmed and when he had his marriage blessed (he had been married years earlier at a court house.) My uncle Alan had been reading the Catholic author Scott Hahn and watching the Catholic channel EWTN and started to really learn what the Catholic faith was about.

In 2001 my uncle Dave's wife passed away from cancer. It was around that time that I noticed him also getting into the faith, although I'm sure it started earlier while his beloved wife was sick. Uncle Dave started giving me books about Catholicism, mostly dealing with purity and chastity. I always gave a big smile, thanked him but then shoved them in my bookshelf and forgot about it.

OK, so where was I...? Oh yes. College. *Sigh*

A disclaimer: This story may seem like an over-exaggerated case of home sickness. Trust me, it wasn't home sickness.

My senior year of high school I decided to attend Central Missouri State University in Warrensburg. Quite a few of us 2003-ers were going there and I didn't want to go to Northwest Missouri State University. That was just too close to home. I was going to major in theater and was planning on joining a sorority. I had my life all planned out. It seemed like a solid plan. It was stability. (I know, I'm laughing too.)

I was seriously dating someone at the time, and even though he was at a college a couple hours away from me I was certain our romance would survive the distance. (Now I'm REALLY laughing!) I said good bye to Tarkio and moved my starry-eyed-self to Warrensburg on August 15th.

College started out great. I got into a great sorority with one of my really good friends. I lived on a co-ed floor of the dorm and met new and interesting people. I was drinking and partying for the first time in my life, and it was fun and exciting for me. In high school while hanging out with friends my wardrobe contained hoodies and jeans. Now I was wearing tube tops, skirts and heels that could kill. I was on my own, no parent to tell me what to do. Church and God definitely took a back seat to my life at this time.

Classes started on August 20 but wasn't interested in learning.

And from there things started going downhill.

I realized there was a huge project assigned in one of my theater classes, but since I wasn't going to class I didn't know the details and was far behind. I was totally lost in my math class and even though this nerdy but sweet guy named Will tried to help me, I just freaked out and gave up. I was having other problems with other people, rumors and secrets, but prefer not to go into those details.

The following weeks I really started freaking out. Going to college costs big bucks, and I was basically wasting money by not going to class. I spent all my time trying to think of how to stop the rumor about me, worrying about my crumbling relationship with my boyfriend, and figuring out how to get caught up in class. I had dug myself into a huge hole that seemed impossible to get out of. I was scared, lonely and full of anxiety. I asked for help on a couple occasions, but they were too busy with their own problems to give me advice.

I remember sitting in one of the lobbies of my dorm just lost and confused. I would see people walk in and out- out to party, out to study, out to hang out with friends and I felt jealous of them. I was so depressed and becoming somebody I didn't like or respect anymore. I simply hated myself.

For the first time in a long time I prayed to God for help and guidance. After that I made one of the biggest decisions of my life- I decided to quit college.

On my birthday I withdrew from CMSU, packed up my little Sunfire and moved away.

But I was Miss Tarkio High School, I was student body president, I got good grades- this wasn't like me at all either. But at home I would feel safer and far away from the terrible heartache and anxiety that I felt everyday at CMSU. Another disclaimer: CMSU is a great school and 95% of the people there were wonderful. I just felt I didn't belong.

Boy was my mom FURIOUS with me for quitting college. I mean I swear she had fire blowing out of her ears. I had friends of mine at CMSU try and call me to reason with me, but I didn't want to hear their argument. I heard of my high school teachers being shocked and disappointed that I had quit college.

Sometimes I wondered if my choice was a huge mistake. But I knew in my heart that if I needed to go back, I would have been given a sign to return. I never got that sign. Was it foolish of me to just give up? Should I have just endured all the crap that was going on there? In hindsight I know it was the right choice. But back then I was plagued with doubt.

I crashed on my best friend's futon in her teeny tiny studio apartment for awhile in Maryville, MO. We both started working at a nursing home in town. We had a blast together. My relationship with my boyfriend was slowly mending. While those at college were trying to figure out how to survive midterms, I was trying to figure out my life. But I was in no hurry. Even though I wasn't going to Mass, my prayer life was a bit more active since I was wanting the Lord to tell me exactly what to do with my life.

Then something happened that October to rock my world once again.

My dear Uncle Mick had been taken to the hospital. He had slowly become weaker due to his emphysema, and it looked like all those years of smoking caught up with him. I took off work and rushed to the hospital and he seemed fine. He looked tired, but was still cracking jokes. But the doctor wasn't sugar coating anything- he needed to be transported to Kansas City. This was serious.

He was driven partially by ambulance and then life-flighted to St. Luke's in Kansas City. We were told he needed a risky surgery. His daughters were scared. My mom was scared. We all were scared. I felt helpless, so I went to the chapel to pray.

This was the hardest I had ever prayed in my entire life. I prayed for God to save my Uncle Mick's life. In addition to my brother he was a key father-figure in my life. He was the only uncle who lived in Tarkio. He was my mom's best friend and the brother she was closest to. He was always around to make us smile and laugh and he always sang little songs that got stuck in our heads. He was the chief of police in our tiny town and everyone loved him. He inspired my brother to be a police officer. How could God take him away? I bargained with God. I pleaded with Him. I believed in miracles. And I was certain God would give us a miracle.

Unfortunately my prayers were not answered. I got off work late and I listened to the voicemail from my brother to call him or mom. He had passed away surrounded by his daughters and other family members.

The next few weeks were a blur. I decided to move back home with mom. I went to Mass with her on Sundays but really did not want to be there. I was so mad at God. Why didn't he answer my prayers for Mick's miraculous recovery? I knew I wasn't the only one praying. It wasn't like I was praying to win the lottery or something. It wasn't fair that God granted miracles to other people but not our family.

I knew that Mick was in a better place, but what about the rest of us? What about his young daughters? What about my mom? We loved him too and wanted him with us. He had always been a part of our lives and now that he was gone, life was not the same.

Christmas came that year and it was a sad one. My family and Mick's family would always go to Midnight Mass together.

The year was ending and I was still mad at God and was holding a grudge against him. But then I read this wonderful book, "A Travel Guide to Heaven" and softened my anger toward the Lord. I vowed the year 2004 was going to be a good year.

Things got worse before they got better.

My Spiritual Growth Spurt Part I

Now that I have started my own blog, I have become addicted to reading other people's blogs. It wasn't only my brother's blog that inspired me to write my own, but also a recent magazine article in "Family Foundations." This article explained how blogging is another tool of evangelizing. It showcased four women's blogs- all devout Catholic mothers. These holy women have such amazing spiritual lives but experience struggles as well.

I'd like to write about my own "spiritual growth spurt."

To spare you all from an autobiography-tome of myself, I'll try my hardest to keep it simple and short, but in order to do that I think I'll have to split this story up!

My wonderful single mother was born and raised Catholic. I was born Catholic, but not necessarily raised that way. Mom and I lived across the street from the only Catholic church in the entire county- good ol' St. Paul's. However, we never went to Mass regularly. I remember hearing the church bells chime and seeing all the dressed up men and women walking into the church. I remember feeling a tad bit guilty we weren't going but I had other worries in my young life- like if we had ran out of Twinkies, and if so, how soon we could get some more.

When I was eight years old my mom and I got back into the routine of going to Mass since I was about to receive my first Holy Communion. I remember being excited for my First Communion, but only because my big brother was coming from Kansas City, presents were involved, and I got to dress up like a bride. But soon we fell out of the routine. Sunday mornings were once again filled with sleeping in and doing nothing. Every once in awhile we'd start going for a couple weeks, but then miss a Mass and fall out of the habit of going.

I might not have gone to Mass as a child, but I did go to CCD classes and vacation Bible school. I remember loving snack time, thrilled to get the part of Mary in the Christmas program and pizza parties at the city park. I didn't learn much of anything except for the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be prayers.

So it's safe to say I knew diddly-squat about my Catholic faith. And it wasn't easy living in a county that is less than 1% Catholic. I remember when I was really little going to a near by town to go bowling with a Pentecostal youth group. We were at a pizza place when one of my elementary friends made fun of me for being Catholic. I believe it was to the effect of, "You Catholics think Mary is God!" Of course I didn't know how to respond to that. I must have missed that lesson on the Mother of God. Instead for the first time in my life I was ashamed of being a Catholic.

In seventh grade we moved a couple blocks away from the church and I soon began -DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN!- my teenage years.....

I was a pretty good kid in high school. I got good grades, participated in a lot of extracurricular activities, and dabbled in a bit of school government. I even got the title of "Miss Tarkio High School" my senior year. My friends and I were a group of good girls (for the most part.) We never drank or partied, we were part of the Principal Advisory Council, we were in the National Honor Society. Teachers loved us (except for maybe our choir director) since we weren't trouble makers and turned in our homework. However I'm sure the teachers saw me passing notes to my best friend Ashlee, and I was always talking during class. My friends and I weren't perfect angels... we would explore abandoned houses in the country at night. We weren't always the best drivers. We also...well, I won't get too much into our crazy shenanigans.

Where was religion during my teenage years? I remember going to a Christian rock band concert at a Protestant church and getting spiritual goosebumps. In a fit of crying over my sins I followed my friends downstairs to give my life to Christ. A friend of mine and I were on a spiritual high for awhile after that....but it quickly faded away. During my freshman year of high school I was confirmed along with my cousin. In order to be able to be confirmed we actually had to start going to Mass again. I remember those Masses- my cousin and I would always start laughing at something (usually just looking at each other) and nearly explode from trying to keep the giggles in! After Mass we'd always go eat at the 10th Street restaurant where my lovable Uncle Mick would embarrass his teenage daughter and niece by singing little songs (loudly) and make jokes.

When Confirmation came I was excited, just like I was years before at First Communion. But just like then I did not realize the infinite amount of graces that each of these events, these Sacraments, had in store for me. I was more excited about my big family gathering for the occasion, and being in the beautiful Basilica on a gorgeous spring day.

After the event was over, something amazing happened- my mom and I continued going to Mass regularly and it stuck. My priest had wrangled me into singing for Christmas Eve Mass and Easter so I became more involved with the parish. I even started to read the Scripture readings during Mass every once in awhile. Sometimes Fr. Reginald's sermons were so good and powerful I felt he was speaking directly to me.

Although I was going to Mass and was involved....I still wasn't interested in growing spiritually. After all, I had many other things going on in my life to focus on. I had friends, homework, sports, boyfriends (man, did they take up a lot of time!), proms, tanning, work, college applications, trying to get along with my mom, and trying to find entertainment in my tiny hometown. Many times I dragged my feet when it came to going to church and I was only thinking how long Mass was going to take so I could take a nap when we got home.

Although I battled with depression before my senior year, things got better and I ended up having an amazing last year of high school. I was so excited for college. I had a bright and promising future ahead of me.

I had no idea just how hard life was going to get when I left my safe stable home and entered college....

My Spiritual Struggles

One of the reasons I started my blog was to write about my spiritual journey and struggles. I wrote the note below as a note on Facebook last February.

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As most of you know, I have a brother who is 13 years older than me named Jamie. He's a goof, has terrorized me in the past, is VERY sarcastic but has been THE father figure in my life. I had no father to care for me as a child, so during the times my mom was busy working to support two children by herself, it was my brother who stepped up to the plate, sacrificed some of the fun things teenagers get to do and babysit me. I owe a lot to him, and that is why he is walking me down the aisle at my wedding in April.

Better yet, my brother is a devout Catholic Christian who strongly defends his faith, but has a fun time doing it at the same time. I have looked at his MySpace blog and his numerous blog postings about the Catholic faith and what it is like to be a Christian in today's society. I'm so lucky to have a brother like him who I can discuss religion with. A part of me is sad that Ryan and I won't be moving to north Kansas City like we were originally planning to. I was looking forward to being a part of his church and seeing him, Abby and their kids more often.

So that's my brother...he blogs...A LOT about the faith. These blogs are for anyone to see (as far as I know) and he's not scared to post them for anyone to argue, comment or agree. His sister, me, who is a theology major at a very orthodox Catholic college, is nothing like that. And that's what this note is about.

To put it out there: I really stink at apologetics (apologetics is defending and/or explaining the faith.) Why is that? Because I'm a coward and very sensitive.

I'm a coward because I am afraid of what people will think of me. Let's face it, being a Christian-- Protestant or Catholic -- is NOT very easy in our very secular-humanist culture. Being a Catholic is harder because sometimes it feels we have the whole world against us. If a friend asked me about something pertaining to being Catholic (Why do you have to go to confession? I don't need Mass- why should I go?) I can answer because they came to me. But me going out to someone to preach??? Too scary- I don't want to push my religion. I don't want to lose a friend. I don't want people to think I am weird. I think back to the martyrs. They died because of their faith. I ask myself how can I strive to be like them if I can't even tell someone how important going to Mass is?

I am so sensitive. I cry at the Olympics and Oscars. I can't watch those commercials about abused pets or orhpaned children in Africa because my heart can't take it. Being sensitive has gotten in the way of defending and explaining my faith. My brother introduced to me the phrase "Catholic Taliban." Those are the very hardcore Catholics that seem more interested in flouting how much they know about the faith than actually saving souls. I've seen too many people driven away from the faith, and Christianity in general because of these people. I do not want to be like this. I don't want to have a Pharisee-mentality. Being so sensitive makes my emotions go hay-wire. I get so angry when someone dismisses Christ or a teaching when they don't even bother to learn about it. They say to preach with love...well I fear my temper will get in the way! That seems kind of like a contradiction- being a coward with a bad temper. But that's how I am.

Then I get intimidated by some of the awesome students that sit with me in my senior seminar. They have AMAZING insights. They can list off verses from the Bible with ease. (A Catholic knowing their Bible???...shocking I know!) Participation in discussion is a part of my grade but I'm too chicken to speak up. Half of the time I can't even think of anything interesting. I hope I can some day be as brilliant as some of the people in my class.

The crazy thing about all this-- I would love to write a book about the Catholic religion. Something funny, interesting and devout. How can I do that if I have no confidence?

So I'm sure barely anyone will read this (I do get rather long-winded.) However, I am going to build little baby steps to posting on here more often. Explaining the faith, describing my spiritual journey and defending my beliefs as a Catholic. I want to be like my big brother. I want to see Jesus and him to say to me at my life's end, "Well done, good and faithful servant..." Matthew 25: 21 (No I didn't know that by heart...I had to go to biblegateway.com!)

When I Grow Up

Last night I applied for another job. I remember during my last semester of college reading all these news articles about how college graduates are having a very difficult time finding a job in this crummy economy. I never really paid any attention to those articles, but when they handed me my diploma and I went out into the real world I realized they weren't kiddin'!

It's kind of nerve-wracking finding a big-kid job. During high school and college my jobs were a means of paying for gas, rent, clothes and other junk. I generally enjoyed going to work, but knew I wouldn't be doing it for the rest of my life...which I guess added to the enjoyment! But now it's time to find a career. Something I will be doing the rest of my life!

Remember those care-free days during elementary school when teachers would ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up? Even in high school teachers and guidance counselors would ask this question, and it was always so fun to imagine the future- so open, so promising.

In elementary school I remember we had an "About Me" project. We had to tell our teacher about ourselves and she'd write it all on this big piece of paper. One of the questions was the "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I wanted to be an actress. My mom tells me I was a little drama queen, even in elementary school!

Then of course whenever the Olympics would come around I would want to be a gymnast like Shannon Miller, or a swimmer- that looked like fun! After watching the movie Twister I knew I'd end up being a tornado chaser!

My lofty career goals didn't end in elementary school. My freshman year I was in Upward Bound, a college prep program for high school students. We had to write a long term goal-statement. I wanted to go to medical school in New York City, then move back to Maryville and open my own pediatric clinic. I still look at that goal statement and laugh! Jump to my senior year and guess what was I planning on majoring in when I went to college? Theater! I loved acting in the school plays and I guess the little acting bug that was in me since grade school stuck with me.

Well as most of you know, I didn't last long at the first college I attended (that's a whoooooole other blog posting!)

The second college I attended I majored in secondary education and history. I lasted a semester there, and had difficulty in understanding that if you want to be successful in that major and career path, you have to actually show up to class. Ugh....but it would have been so much easier if you didn't have to work hard and *POOF!* you could just have your dream job!

So my next goal was to be a nurse. That's the original reason I moved to Atchison. But the Lord had other plans for me...(which is another blog posting!)

So I end up at Benedictine College and majored in Theology. What I was going to do with that major I had NO clue at the time, but it was a subject I really enjoyed. Third time's the charm with this school and I actually graduated! Whoo-hooo! Going to class pays off! I cried tears of happiness when I walked across that stage and got my diploma! I was so excited!!!

I had career plans already. I wanted to teach at a Catholic high school, become a great apologetic, write great devotional and evangelical material to benefit hundreds, or become a phenomenal speaker like Scott Hahn or Christopher West.

But now what? I've applied for a couple jobs for the diocese of KC-St. Joe and the Jefferson City diocese. Nothin'. It's getting pretty tight around here so I've actually applied to Wal-Mart. *shudders...*

But with all these career dreams and goals, there is one thing I want to do no matter where I end up. I want to help people. I want to encourage people. I want to uplift people. I want to bring my fellow brothers and sisters closer to Christ and to be happy. I want to make a difference. I know that sounds like an hokey advertisement for Boy's Club or Girl Scouts, but I honestly and truly want to achieve those things!

By the grace of the Holy Spirit I found a job opening for Catholic radio. I put in my resume and hopefully will be called in to interview in October. So please, please, please pray for me!

Bad Night

Some days are better than others. Isn't that true for all of us? Well it is 3:00 a.m. and I can't sleep. Tonight has been a bad night. I've received some bad news that doesn't directly affect me, yet I'm taking it hard. I've read some silly inside joke on facebook that doesn't have to do with me, yet I still take offense to it. WHY? There's lot of reasons...

To generalize, I will use a quote from Rachel Green from the TV show Friends:

"There's rock bottom, fifty feet of crap, then me."

Before I go on about what is depressing me tonight (which I probably won't get to) and before I go on with posting to my blog I guess I should just put it out there that some people may think I share too much information with the world.

I'm not sure why I had to give a speech at my high school graduation....but I did. I thought long and hard about what to say, and I didn't want to give the usual hokey speech. I decided to put myself out there and talk about my struggles with depression and all the junk that goes with it. I talked about how I overcame my struggles and I correlated my experience with how we can overcome the struggles in our own life after we leave our safe little town and go into the Real World. I ran my speech by our principal who thought it was a little "too much." Not appropriate for a high school graduation. But thankfully one of my class sponsors thought it would be fine to speak about and encouraged me to deliver the speech. So I did. Perhaps some people thought it was inappropriate, but after graduation was all over and the festivities were done, I had two people come up to me thanking me for the speech since they had gone through the same thing. For the first time they didn't feel alone regarding their depression. If these were the only 2 people that appreciated my honesty and the rest of the crowd hated the speech, I am 110% glad I gave it.

Why did I get so personal? To have people feel sorry for me? To gain attention? NO, I did it because I wanted to give words of encouragement, of hope, words of how family and friends and the people around you can shape and literally save your life. The best way to get this message across was to relate my own experience.

Lately I have had another heartbreaking experience. I had a miscarriage. Worst pain of my entire life. I shared this information on facebook. I know quite a few people were quite upset by this. I see their point. But I'm so glad I did, because a number of girls personally messaged me saying they had gone through the same thing. I felt so alone before since I knew no one my age who had gone though this terrible ordeal. They gave me comfort, hope and advice. The rest of my friends and family graciously let Ryan and I know that we were in their thoughts and prayers....which is what we were needing.

I will say it again: Why did I get so personal? To have people feel sorry for me? To gain attention? NO, I did it in a frenzy of despair and sadness, and Ryan and I knew that our good news had slowly leaked to others that we hadn't planned on telling for awhile. I could not have been able to handle it if someone came up to me saying, "So how are you doing? How's the baby growing?"

Someday I will post about my miscarriage. Someday I'll post about how my day was so crappy that I pigged out on a whole bag of those miniature Reece's Peanut Butter Cups. Someday I'll post about how I can't stop crying.

So please, bare with me. Please don't think I'm an attention-whore. This is how I express myself. I wish I could be like those who take their struggles silently and privately. You have NO idea.

Even though I haven't really discussed the things that have upset me tonight I wanted to write this as my WARNING BLOG. There will probably be blogs where I will probably get personal, sappy and full of emotion. Not everyday.

But some days are better than others.

In the Words of Stephanie Tanner: "How Rude!"

So I know everyone is blogging, twittering, facebooking, gossiping, etc. about last night's incident at the MTV Video Music Awards involving Taylor Swift, Kanye West and Beyonce. I already had in mind what my second blog posting was going to be about, and I really didn't want my writings to enter into the messed up world of celebrity gossip.

I'm not going to focus on the details of what people are upset about regarding last night's actions. I just want to ask this question: has our country forgotten the rules of politeness and civility?

Less than a week ago South Carolina Rep. Joe Wilson displayed behavior that was less than polite during President Obama's congressional address. Again, I'm not going to go into the details of what was behind the outburst.

Kanye West and Joe Wilson are entitled to their own opinion. With the freedom and liberties granted by our nation they are even entitled to express their opinion. However, there is a difference in expressing a belief in a dignified manner and straight up being rude about it. Both men could have expressed their reasons for being upset in another outlet and in a more civilized way. I know the world of politics and the world of celebrities are not really the same (except in the way that they are both screwed up!)

What about the rest of us? I'm sure we're all faced with rude people everyday. The world is filled with mean-spirited people. I used to work at Wal-Mart so I have seen the epitome of rudeness. I've experienced it at a Royals baseball game when some very rowdy and obnoxious people behind us wouldn't calm down after we politely asked them to. Instead they got in our face and started mouthing off. I was SEETHING mad and had so many non-civil words and phrases running through my head that I wanted to spew out. But my mom taught me something that has stuck with me: "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I was mad at myself for not saying something, but we dealt with it in a better manner than continuing to have a yelling match. The High Road isn't so bad.

Emotions can run rampant in us which I believe is a reason for rudeness. It's kind of sad that we sometimes become slaves to our emotions, don't you think? And as much as we have dealt with rude people, we have all been rude ourselves. I know a time or two when I've been tired and grumpy and I've said "Excuse me!" in an exasperated tone to that lady who seems to be purposely blocking the frozen pizza aisle.

How do we stop rudeness? HA! I've been accused of having a "Pollyanna outlook on life" and perhaps I do have too much of the attitude of "can't we all just get along?" However, I'm going to throw it out there- "Love thy neighbor as thyself" Call it what you will: the ethic of reciprocity, the Golden Rule, the Great Commandment, but I think if we did treat others the way we wanted to be treated life would be a tad bit happier, more peaceful. It is not always easy, but that's where self-control and self-discipline come into play.

I'm watching CNN and they are talking about people being rude, so I guess I'm not alone!

The First One

So here I go- my first blogging experience. I'm having trouble deciding what my blogging premier should be about. Should I do the detailed "About Me" or write about my past; maybe I should write about my "conversion" story.

But I will save those for another day.

I guess I should start out by writing about why I even want to start a blog. I used to think blogs were a nice outlet for writing, but I never had the motivation to start reading a blog. That was until my brother started a blog earlier this year. It's mostly a Catholic apologetic blog mixed with his perusings of his spirital journey. I love reading it and have actually found it to be a form of spiritual devotion for me. (I never thought I'd say that about my dorky big brother!) Here's a link to his blog: http://www.romancatholiccop.com/

I suggest reading if you ever have questions about why the heck Catholics do all the crazy things we do. Warning: my brother's sarcasm can be found within these holy posts!

So what do I want to accomplish with my blog? Yes, I want to focus on my spirituality, but also my adventures as a newlywed, being a recent college grad with NO job, my family, friends and my life experiences. I will be explaining and defending my beliefs on here, but explaining in a way of how I came to understand these beliefs- and most of these ways were through some good and some not so good life lessons.

But because I am a totally random person I don't think every post will be focused on spirituality. I already have a blog planned about my beagle doggie Chandler and my attempts at cooking! But God is interwoven into every part of my life that He's bound to creep in these blogs often (especially with cooking- I always pray to God I don't burn down the apartment!)

I had a difficult time trying to decide what to name my blog. I had a lot of people give awesome suggestions, but I finally picked the title "From the Heart." I was going to go the snazzy Latin way and name it "ex animo" which means "from the heart- sincerely" but decided to keep it simple. But that's why there's a E and an A before fromtheheart.com because it was VERY hard to find a web address that wasn't already taken!

Hopefully my blogs will entertain you, intrigue you and help you in your spiritual life or just plain ol' every day life.

So here I go- writing from my heart...