tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41175501044366879932024-03-13T00:41:33.956-04:00one more catholicNot all saints have the same sort of holiness...but all arrive at God. -St. John VianneyRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-10215424959669588832017-08-27T22:27:00.000-04:002017-08-27T22:27:23.881-04:00Four Reasons Exercise Is Important For Christians<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you like to run or work out . . . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you're on a sports team . . . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or if you've ever struggled with body image, <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2016/01/im-beautiful-daughter-of-god-who-thinks.html">like me</a> . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">. . . You might be interested to know what the Church has to say about exercise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A lot of fitness gurus talk about exercising for a "bikini body" or to get six-pack abs. Somewhere along the way, I decided that wasn't motivation enough for me. There had to be a better reason to exercise. And, after all, the Church teaches that the body is a good thing. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">T<span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">he human body shares in the dignity of ‘the image of God’: it is a human body precisely because it is animated by a spiritual soul, and it is the whole human person that is intended to become, in the body of Christ, a temple of the Spirit.” (<a href="http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p1s2c1p6.htm">CCC 364</a>)</span></span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was so interested to know what the Church teaches about exercise that I actually wrote my senior thesis on the topic. Here are some of the benefits to exercise I found from a Christian perspective:</span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1) Exercise helps you grow in discipline—an essential part of the Christian life.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In his letters to the early Christians, St. Paul often compares the self-control required for Christians to athletic training. It's no coincidence—both athletes and Christians have to be extremely disciplined. If I want to be a great athlete, I have to train every day. If I want to have a vibrant prayer life, I have to pray every day.</span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-03474726-2688-f7ce-5d42-9e96e67876b3"><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Well, I do not run aimlessly, I do not box as one beating the air; but I pommel my body and subdue it, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+9%3A25-27&version=RSVCE">1 Cor. 9:25-27</a>)</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Exercise and prayer both require constant discipline, which can be painful at times (early morning workouts, for instance, or finding a Mass to attend while traveling), but both are extremely beneficial for body and soul in the long run. In both, perseverance is key.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2) Community naturally comes from exercising with others. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There sometimes comes a point during a workout when you've pushed yourself so far that your inhibitions vanish. You're dripping sweat, panting, and suddenly you don't care anymore what the person next to you thinks about you. </span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-03474726-2694-6780-e791-09c18553dd9e"><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Exercise breaks down barriers. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You have to be authentic in some manner when you are pushing your physical body to its limits. And when you experience others at their weakest points, you naturally create camaraderie with them. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Any runner who has participated in a marathon naturally feels </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">camaraderie</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with other marathoners. When I'm hiking up a particularly difficult slope, I often end up talking to strangers who are climbing alongside me, simply because we understand each other at that moment. </span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which leads me into number three...</span></span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>3) Group exercise and sports can help Christians lead others to Christ.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">St. John Paul II spoke of the “universal language” of sporting which brings people of all nations and backgrounds together. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He believed that the vast reaches of the sporting world, and its educational value, offered an ideal platform for Christian evangelization.</span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-03474726-268e-cbd4-596c-c245a7e47677"><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even athletes not on a sports team can encounter the phenomenon of community simply because they share similar experiences, like I mentioned above. And because exercise breaks down barriers, it naturally creates a space for evangelization. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">John Paul II knew of the community that exercise fosters. He would often lead groups of young people on hiking and kayaking trips, then listen to their struggles and preach the Gospel to them. He brought countless souls to Christ in that way. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>4) Exercise can be a prayer.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've met several priests and religious sisters who offer up their workouts for specific intentions—like struggling or ill friends and family members. I have friends who pray the Rosary or listen to prayers while running. I find it helpful to keep a certain person in mind and offer my workout for the day as a prayer for him or her. That way, when the workout gets tough, I have a purpose to finishing it beyond myself, a small sacrificial offering. </span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-03474726-267b-0a7d-79cd-239f3aac0d26"><span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Athletic activity can help every man and woman to recall that moment when God the Creator gave origin to the human person, the masterpiece of his creative work." —Pope St. John Paul II </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span><span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What would you add to this list? </span></span></span></div>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-29786304742304548982016-08-04T21:59:00.002-04:002016-08-04T21:59:35.410-04:00Until death do us part<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My head whipped back and forth as I found a rare gap in the rush-hour traffic barreling down the road. I ran across the street and rushed inside the church, forgetting to catch the door closing loudly behind me. My fingers hastily swiped at the holy water font. I made the Sign of the Cross in one short, fluid movement. I threw myself on to a single-person kneeler, my forearms sticky on the back of the chair in front of me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hadn't come to the church to pray. In the shuffle of cars that comes with having five drivers and not as many vehicles in the family, I was plunked there to wait for my ride. But there I was at my parish, in an unwarranted rush to the tiny chapel at the back of the church building, staring up at the golden tabernacle crowed by St. Faustina's Divine Mercy image. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I silently launched myself into my usual pre-prayer routine of inadvertently thinking of all the incomplete tasks on my to-do list and simultaneously trying to catch my breath from my always-hurried entrance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I tried to enter into a prayerful state, I became easily distracted. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A window's reflection afforded me the view of a uniquely captivating scene. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Behind me, a stooped old woman mightily traversed the church, struggling to push a walker that seemed nearly her height. Her feathery white hair framed droopy eyes, and her pleated pants, patterned with delicate white flowers, looked small enough to fit a child. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She approached the tabernacle deliberately.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In between distracted prayers, I had been stealing glances at her out of my peripheral vision, but as she advanced closer I abandoned attempts to pray. I watched, enthralled, as she shakily parked her walker and grasped a chair. She lowered herself carefully onto the kneeler directly beneath the tabernacle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And there she remained. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I knelt there in stunned silence. This woman was my opposite. She was a perfectly purposeful foil to abrupt, rash little me. Yet what struck me most was not her patience, prayerfulness, or contrast to me, but her steadfastness in the face of illness and old age. I was merely passing through this church, completely able to walk and kneel without difficulty or pain. She seemed almost a permanent fixture once she settled. Jesus and she were old friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've seen this scene play out in dozens of churches, in many states and countries. The old woman might have been my one-time confessor whose heart stopped twice--whose multiple medical deaths did not prevent him from returning to minister the sacraments to the Church's faithful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She might have been the ancient man with huge, fuzzy white eyebrows who never misses a daily Mass at my parish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She might have been my grandmother, praying Rosary after Rosary to fill her days because she has the Christian hope and patience of <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2016/07/ill-never-be-saint-monica.html">St. Monica</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She might have been the faithful deacon at my parish who never left the church after his retirement from work and his deacon's duties, who performed as an altar server nearly until his death at 95 just a few months ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All these faithful and many more bind together the Body of Christ. They are the ones who, like St. Monica, pray for years for the conversion of hearts. They have been through years of heartache and turmoil. They have asked God "Why?" time and time again. They have encountered countless seemingly-unanswered prayers. They have seen children and grandchildren grow up and move out and move on from a faith that appears to them as antiquated as their parents and grandparents. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They have used crutches, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs as their slow-moving vehicles of transportation to the Eucharistic table. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Younger ones, like me, will flit and waver in faith. For all but a blessed few, it will take years until we find ourselves rooted in Christ and strengthened by the faith (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=colossians+2%3A6-7&version=NIV">Col. 2:6-7</a>). We rely on the prayers and sacrifices the more seasoned faithful offer for us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Their sacrifice of love sustains us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Their example inspires us. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.5px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."</span></span> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 28.5px;">-</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 28.5px;">Catholic <a href="https://www.ewtn.com/library/Liturgy/MARRIAGE.HTM">Rite of Marriage</a></i></blockquote>
Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-91383645789548542472016-07-19T22:59:00.000-04:002016-07-19T22:59:26.708-04:00I'll Never Be Saint Monica<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have a problem with persistent prayer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I don't mean constant prayer, or even making time for prayer, although I find both of those <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2016/01/prayer-is-battle.html">difficult</a>. I mean perseverance in prayer. Despite turmoil and distraction, despite droves of prayer requests and passing time, I want to be persistent in asking the Lord to move hearts. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80EVcGBY-UJc06NgcmezROPQhmAAs9TWJWouQuLoT1uAyGLGD8InP929pztKcgU8NpwYbRodFhBsCK_Z7EOOaIv0T7fcFZOtc4HmFFR-KHoOsalV_JZku4sY4cbpZ7Z7xFjYUDzXYB7_6/s1600/the_first_rosary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80EVcGBY-UJc06NgcmezROPQhmAAs9TWJWouQuLoT1uAyGLGD8InP929pztKcgU8NpwYbRodFhBsCK_Z7EOOaIv0T7fcFZOtc4HmFFR-KHoOsalV_JZku4sY4cbpZ7Z7xFjYUDzXYB7_6/s400/the_first_rosary.jpg" width="303" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most long-term illnesses are not suddenly relieved by some miracle. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Financial struggles rarely end in a windfall. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People do not convert to Catholicism overnight. Few make complete turnovers when they do convert or come home to the Church. For most of us, it is a daily struggle to pursue the way of the Lord amidst trial. As Catholic author Colleen Carroll Campbell wrote in her novel <i>My Sisters the Saints: </i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px;">"The waiting is the cross."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fortunately, the saints in Heaven have already run the race, to borrow the words of St. Paul. One particular saint heroically endured years of seemingly unanswered prayers before calmly and graciously receiving immeasurable blessings from God. She inspires me to grow in sanctity myself by praying for others. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That heroic woman is <a href="http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=1">St. Monica</a>, mother of <a href="http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=418">St. Augustine</a> (and patron saint of patience). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">St. Augustine, now a giant among saints and a Doctor of the Church, once led a life of sin and heresy. For years, he traveled around northern Africa and southern Europe partying, pursuing worldly ambitions, studying, actively promoting heretical beliefs, and eventually converting to Christianity and becoming a priest, then bishop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">St. Monica prayed vigilantly during the many years that her son was gallivanting around the Mediterranean. She even followed her son during his travels and advocated on his behalf. How was she able to trust wholeheartedly in the Lord while watching her son stray farther and farther from the Church?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>She was confident in the Lord.</b> She never despaired. She knew that God would prevail in her son's heart. After sharing with her that he had turned from the Manichean heresy, St. Augustine said of Monica's disposition that </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"[h]er heart was not shaken with some tumultuous exultation when she heard that what she had sought of the Lord daily with so many tears was in so great a part already accomplished...she was confident that you [God], who had promised the whole, would one day give the rest, she replied to me most calmly and with a heart full of faith, that she believed in Christ that before she departed this life she would see me a Catholic believer." </span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And she did. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>She sought help from other Christians.</b> St. Ambrose, for one. Monica knew she couldn't do this alone. </span>A mother grieving for her son's eternal soul, Monica wept "copious tears," according to Augustine. It was for this reason that St. Ambrose spoke to her his iconic words: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"The child of those tears shall never perish." </span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>She kept her request at the forefront of her mind. </b>She was physically close to her son during his trials and struggles to embrace the faith. Augustine wrote of this time in his <i>Confessions</i>, addressed to the Lord: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I sought you outside myself and did not find the God of my heart. I had come into the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired of ever discovering the truth. By this time my mother had come to me, strengthened by her piety, following me over sea and land, and trusting you through all danger."</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In her lifetime, Monica saw her son through a hundred evils before she saw him turn from them to sacrifice his life in priestly service. Shortly after Augustine's conversion and baptism, she said to him: "Son, nothing in this world now affords me delight. I do not know what there is now left for me to do or why I am still here, all my hopes in this world being now fulfilled." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I draw strength from St. Monica, whose infinite patience and hope came to fruition in St. Augustine's conversion and priesthood. Someday she and I will be great friends. I encourage anyone struggling with a long-term trial, especially the lack of faith in family members, to ask St. Monica for her intercession. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, as always, ask for the Blessed Virgin Mary's intercession. She, another model of hope, trust, and patience, awaits the pleas of her children. Unite yourself to Mary, from whom </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px;">"we learn to trust even when all hope seems gone," says St. John Paul II. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">-R</span></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-30908951617126847692016-01-27T17:25:00.000-05:002016-01-27T17:25:01.603-05:00Waiting on a Voice<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Though I've heard and read dozens of so-called "vocation stories" wherein religious and priests relate how they came to realize their vocation, I cling to one such story of a religious sister in particular. We'll call her Sister Rose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sister Rose was blessed to attend World Youth Day in Madrid. She traveled across the ocean with a group of pilgrims from her parish to attend this gathering. Several days of festivities and prayer followed. At the heart of the city, thousands jostled each other as they moved in great herds toward an event one day. Sister Rose kept in pace with her group, though it was sometimes difficult to stay together because of the chaos. Suddenly, from the vast crowd came a solitary yell, barreling over the heads of thousands of pilgrims:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"<i>Where's Rose?</i>"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once more, the disembodied voice called to Sister:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"<i>Where's Rose?</i>"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose whipped around, shocked that someone could be calling to her in this foreign city amongst the crowds. It turned out that a religious sister from home recognized Rose's parish group halfway across the world. But the sister did not see Rose amongst the crowd, and so called out to her. Rose remembers this as a turning point in recognizing God's call in her life. That single voice called her, only her, from among thousands of people. Rose saw that moment as God <i>calling her by name</i> to the religious life. Obviously, her vocational discernment was not quite so simple, but this incident was pivotal in her story. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I heard Sister Rose tell her story, I was moved deep within. I had an intense desire to be called by God by name, just as Sister Rose had been called years ago. I waited for the day when God would call to me so clearly. I envisioned an instant vocational clarity. I sincerely believed God had to call me by name, His voice cutting through the crowd to choose <i>me </i>and me alone. I would hear His mighty voice despite all the chaos around me. I would answer His loving call. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That hasn't happened yet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That's not to say God won't call me by name. He has already done so; He <i>is </i>calling to me and me alone. I think of the woman in the Bible who touched Jesus' cloak in faith so that she might be healed (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark%205&version=NABRE">Mark 5:30</a>). He <i>knew </i>her; he felt her touch despite the crowd pressing in around him. He knows everything about us, even that which we do not know ourselves. And therein lies a key human desire: to be <i>known. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I want to be known and called by name. I want to be known through and through, to be turned inside out and upside down and to have someone anticipate my every need, want, and sway of the heart. I want someone to discover the mystery of <i>me. </i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is a </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">natural</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> desire that can only be fulfilled by His Love. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We are all, after all, made in the image and likeness of God (</span><a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+1:26&version=NABRE" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">Gen. 1:26</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">), and our Trinitarian God is an infinite mystery waiting for us to discover Him.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">However, I and others often mistakenly expect those around us to know us in a way that only He does. I find myself annoyed when my friends or family members struggle to remember that my favorite color is green or that I value alone time after a tiring day. It is unfair of me to hold my friends and family to such unrealistic standards. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If God calls me to the vocation of marriage, even my husband will never be able to anticipate my every desire, thought, reaction, or sorrow. Only the Lord will ever know <i>everything</i> about me! And what a comfort that is; surely, no man can do such a thing, and it is foolish for me to think he could. Yet I do, because I entertain a heavenly desire while on Earth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sister Rose heard God calling her name in a tangible way, on the streets of Madrid so far from home. God may not call us by the same means, but H</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">e </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">wants us to delight in Him just as He delights in us</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. He</span><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">calls us all by name to Him, even if I do not hear </span><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">"Where's Rebecca?" </i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">in some foreign country halfway across the world. He calls me right here in Steubenville, or wherever I am. He knows me and loves me, and He does the same for you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="text Isa-43-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; position: relative;">But now, thus says the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>,</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-43-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel:</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="text Isa-43-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; position: relative;">Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="indent-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-43-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">I have called you by name: you are mine. (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2043&version=NABRE">Is. 43:1</a>)</span></span></span> </blockquote>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-56417370301457916072016-01-13T18:22:00.000-05:002016-01-13T18:23:16.150-05:00Let Me Go Back to Bed, Lord: Reflections on Today's Readings<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was struck by the readings at Mass this morning. If you have not had a chance to read them or hear them at Mass, you can find them <a href="http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/011316.cfm">here</a>; I will be pulling excerpts below. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the first reading, we hear of the calling of Samuel. Samuel is studying under Eli, who has grown old and whose "<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">eyes had lately grown so weak that he could not see." Thrice in one night, the Lord calls to Samuel. However, Samuel, being unfamiliar with the Lord, and living in a time when "</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 18px;">a revelation of the LORD was uncommon and vision infrequent," thinks that the one calling to him is Eli. Three times, Samuel rises from his bed and answers at his name. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 18px;">Then, we hear the Gospel. Jesus cures Simon's mother-in-law; that evening,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; line-height: 18px;"> the disciples bring "the whole town" to the home of Simon and Andrew so that Jesus can cure their sick. The next morning, Jesus wakes to pray:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Rising very early before dawn, </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Simon and those who were with him pursued him </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">and on finding him said, “Everyone is looking for you.”</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jesus' prayer is cut short by his persistent followers. The disciples spent the previous night bringing dozens of sick and possessed to Jesus for healing; Jesus likely had little sleep between the healings and "rising very early"; Jesus intentionally goes off <i>to a deserted place </i>to be away from everyone. Jesus is probably exhausted and in need of some private time. But here are his disciples, urging him on. Jesus could tell them to go away, but instead he recognizes that he needs to do the Father's will and, at this point, His will is that Jesus evangelize the surrounding towns. So Jesus does. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I understand that Jesus is Lord, but he is also human, and humans become <i>tired. </i>In the first reading, Samuel awakes three times at his name. How do we feel after a night of restless sleep? Or, as in the Gospel, a night of little sleep? Certainly not refreshed and prepared to do the Lord's will! Both of these readings sing to me, a tired soul. The Christian life can be downright tiring. To do God's will is rarely the easiest path. This morning, as I dressed for a busy day of preparing for my return to school, I listened to the song <i>Worn </i>by Tenth Avenue North, which speaks of tired and heavy hearts:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">My prayers are wearing thin/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Yeah, I’m worn/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Even before the day begins/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Yeah, I’m worn/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">I’ve lost my will to fight/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">I’m worn/</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">So, heaven come and flood my eyes</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span> </blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The most important part of this song is not the lament of exhaustion, but rather the decision to look to Heaven in our tiredness. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Samuel is shaken from sleep by Heaven's call; Jesus must relinquish his precious alone time, prayer time, to do his Father's will. I have a lot to learn from these two readings. I am tired, but I must find rest in the Lord. </span><br />
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Worn // Tenth Avenue North</div>
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-31375043012784148302016-01-11T20:51:00.000-05:002016-01-11T20:51:38.714-05:00Prayer Is a Battle<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For years, my parents had this worksheet from my younger sister's religious education class hanging in the house's upstairs hallway:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Growing up, this little poster reminded me that living a Catholic life meant "praying without ceasing" (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Thessalonians+5%3A16-18">1 Thess. 5:17</a>). As I grew older, however, I found it more difficult to do just that. Surely the Christian life is not meant to be easy, but to pray constantly often seems inconvenient or even impossible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why do we receive this impression of prayer? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Because <i>prayer is a battle</i>. I did not make that up; that's an exact quote from the <i>Catechism of the Catholic Church</i>. Take a look:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The great figures of prayer of the Old Covenant before Christ, as well as the Mother of God, the saints, and he himself, all teach us this: prayer is a battle. Against whom? Against ourselves and against the wiles of the tempter who does all he can to turn man away from prayer, away from union with God. (CCC 2725)</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've alluded to the battle of prayer in several earlier posts (like <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/07/choosing-god.html">this one</a>). Now, I would like to share with you some practical strategies for keeping prayer a priority. Obviously, most of us pray at "chrich" and maybe even "befor" we eat. But how often do we pray "in the car" or "at the movies"? Do we make prayer a priority in our lives, or do we feel as though we don't have time to pray? Here are some ways I set aside time for personal prayer even when I'm swamped with responsibility:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Pray in the car </b>or on your way to class. When I'm home for breaks from school, it's difficult to have a quiet space to myself. I take advantage of those quiet times I have while driving alone. Sometimes I'd prefer to listen to the radio, but I have to remind myself that prayer takes precedence and that these few minutes in the car might be the only quiet time I have that day. When I'm at school, I might pray while walking to class (although I must admit that I don't do this as often as I should). As I drive/walk somewhere, I'm preparing for the next event of my day. What better way to begin than in prayer? Even a few minutes of prayer can change my disposition for the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Pray in the shower. </b>This one might seem strange, but we all need to shower! Instead of letting your thoughts wander or singing at the top of your lungs, use that time to pray. (Of course, don't forget that St. Augustine said: "He who sings prays twice.") Once, a priest suggested that I pray every time I go to the bathroom. After I got over the initial shock that an elderly male had acknowledged my restroom habits, I decided his idea wasn't half-bad. Whether it's showering or brushing your teeth, we all need to complete certain tasks on a regular basis; why not turn them into moments of prayer? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Pray while completing household chores. </b>I hate doing the dishes. It may be my least favorite chore. However, it gives me an excuse to pray even when I have a thousand other tasks to complete. Pray while vacuuming, dusting, or making dinner. If I am not praying while cleaning or cooking, I'm usually worrying or indulging in wandering thoughts. Prayer is more productive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Stop thinking about it. Just pray. </b>Do I have time to go to the chapel? <i>It doesn't matter;</i> I can pray right here. While there is something indescribable about sitting in the physical presence of Jesus Christ, sometimes all we can manage is a two-minute-long teeth-brushing prayer. God appreciates both forms of prayer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The <i>Catechism</i> instructs us thus:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The time of the Christian is now. Pray! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Stay tuned to </i>one more catholic<i> for updates on the <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-marian-virtue-project.html">Marian Virtue Project</a> during this month of profound humility. </i></span><br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-65912272837376418372016-01-11T18:31:00.000-05:002016-01-11T18:31:36.795-05:00The Marian Virtue Project<div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Way back in September, I had a bit of fun creating <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/09/fun-with-gifs-marian-virtues-according.html">this post</a> on what I thought the "Marian virtues" were when I first heard of them. All gifs aside, however, we can learn a lot from Mary, especially through each specific Marian virtue. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In order to learn about these virtues, let's talk about the man who first enumerated them: Saint Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Saint Louis de Montfort was an eighteenth-century saint who loved the Blessed Virgin greatly and strove to proclaim her goodness. As his love of Mary grew, Montfort identified ten virtues which Mary manifested, known as the "Marian Virtues." Mary perfectly obeyed God; we therefore strive to emulate her primarily through these ten virtues: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In April, my good friend Abby and I embarked on a ten-month-long spiritual journey. Each month, we choose one Marian Virtue through prayer, discernment, and discussion. We then work to embody that virtue throughout the month. I am excited to announce that Abby and I are working on a series of posts on the fruits of our "Marian Virtue Project" so far! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We are now in the ninth month of our project. January will be the month of our tenth and final Marian virtue: profound humility. I'm sure God will give us plenty of "opportunities" to grow in that particular virtue (read: God will probably throw us into the dirt. On the ground. Repeatedly. <i>But </i>it will all be for the sake of teaching us, His children, how to live good and holy lives).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Abby and I feel that we grew and continue to grow in faith throughout this project, and we want to encourage you to join us! You may begin with profound humility in January, or you may choose another virtue. If ten months is too much of a commitment, try ten <i>weeks</i> of Marian virtues. And, I would remind you (as I so often must remind myself) that just because you are working on growing in one particular virtue, you should not throw the other nine out the window. Ask for Mary's intercession during this time and be open to whatever the Lord has in store!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happy New Year!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some Marian Virtue Resources:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://lifeteen.com/blog/marys-list-the-10-virtues-of-mary/">Mary's List: The 10 Virtues of Mary</a> by Brian Kissinger </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://totheheights.com/2490/ten-virtues-mary/">The Ten Virtues of Mary Series</a> hosted by To the Heights blog</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/True-Devotion-Mary-Preparation-Consecration/dp/0895551543/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1437510287&sr=1-1&keywords=true+devotion+to+mary">True Devotion to Mary</a> by Saint Louis de Montfort (includes Marian Consecration preparation)</span><br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-52326366092915480292016-01-09T17:28:00.000-05:002016-01-11T18:30:55.956-05:00Bits & Pieces from This Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Thursday, Dad and I stole away from work in the morning to go hiking. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We had a bit of snow at home over a week ago, but it had mostly melted by Thursday. Still, we hiked up a small mountain and even just a little elevation gain can mean a lot more snow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fortunately, the trail wasn't too bad:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BZD7TOtlhpR5R6yAMybkIjr71K5VrFFsHhSMuOAc_tHSt2ErrvYq8L92ixHs0pWXNatX27w2jGiIt09RDXdrPFsaweiTi-YhuqdaviACfWbn7w_IqNpcQmAuIoGIXBf1G4Nxq77bAd2N/s1600/FullSizeRender+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BZD7TOtlhpR5R6yAMybkIjr71K5VrFFsHhSMuOAc_tHSt2ErrvYq8L92ixHs0pWXNatX27w2jGiIt09RDXdrPFsaweiTi-YhuqdaviACfWbn7w_IqNpcQmAuIoGIXBf1G4Nxq77bAd2N/s640/FullSizeRender+4.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unfortunately, ice covered many portions of the trail. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even more unfortunately, I wore sneakers to hike. I forgot my snow boots at school and I don't own hiking boots, so I found some of the trail particularly difficult to navigate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After a few miles of slipping and sliding, I finally found a walking stick--a fallen tree branch. With three points of traction (my two feet plus the walking stick), hiking became much easier.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">•••••</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dad and I conversed as we went up. I told him about Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, who is known for his interest in hiking and other sports. I remember hearing a while back that Bl. Pier Giorgio would stop to tie his shoe or pretend he was tired if he saw that other hikers were not able to keep up with his group. I threw up a few quick prayers for the intercession of Pier Giorgio as I skidded across the icy forest floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dad and I scaled a boulder, crossed a frozen creek, and watched the morning sun across a small clearing on our way up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eventually, after many skids but zero falls, Dad and I made it to the top of the little mountain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">•••••</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not only did we find a beautiful tower overlooking the valley below...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmYoEfuej2whGQQjhKLx1QU62F9GOKe8LPDnDvmI4sJ9TtUUegQgIHSMFXD6hS99vnwOny4ZG8tnOctxKvTzAWgYO5gEn1T1X07GJrynw7ki6jvKQdwS8ct_JeyAtQyr8HhMSz7afj2Zc/s1600/FullSizeRender+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmYoEfuej2whGQQjhKLx1QU62F9GOKe8LPDnDvmI4sJ9TtUUegQgIHSMFXD6hS99vnwOny4ZG8tnOctxKvTzAWgYO5gEn1T1X07GJrynw7ki6jvKQdwS8ct_JeyAtQyr8HhMSz7afj2Zc/s640/FullSizeRender+5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">...but we also experienced this awe-inspiring view:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwGY6gVhEq-i_txZmpu_1StFTkq40iXb2TDqLS1PZYezs0c3X2BvfYycJdPdWccRi8q-lvzV8yT0D_IEZ965bSOp1eDweP32p8yn0D3yXlLO79rSIr5eiMIS-RqPjZTkJGZpTedt88mze/s1600/FullSizeRender+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwGY6gVhEq-i_txZmpu_1StFTkq40iXb2TDqLS1PZYezs0c3X2BvfYycJdPdWccRi8q-lvzV8yT0D_IEZ965bSOp1eDweP32p8yn0D3yXlLO79rSIr5eiMIS-RqPjZTkJGZpTedt88mze/s640/FullSizeRender+6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks be to God!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Thursday night, after I arrived home and ate dinner, I baked my first-ever strawberry pie to take to some friends.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pd9cCjRcLnicCVWuK8n7KJ_7RWTvw2uwuAk9cq1ebX8N0clyEMTO2QTSlOFpQ8tDOr1XZAK15LQNAjUUBg3rADGI507BLxb_XqWwNek6vpZEMOovG3AsKY6EyOF965JFNFhtSUQHEvoc/s1600/IMG_0409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pd9cCjRcLnicCVWuK8n7KJ_7RWTvw2uwuAk9cq1ebX8N0clyEMTO2QTSlOFpQ8tDOr1XZAK15LQNAjUUBg3rADGI507BLxb_XqWwNek6vpZEMOovG3AsKY6EyOF965JFNFhtSUQHEvoc/s400/IMG_0409.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Friday, I went down to see them with another friend. It was a wonderful time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">•••••</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And today, I visited the Catholic church where my great-grandfather laid some of the stone:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aside from all of this, I continued to read St. John Paul II's <i>Theology of the Body</i>, visited a perpetual adoration chapel with friends, ate some delicious meatballs, and took a short nap.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All in all, not a bad weekend. </span></div>
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-54345233305709411382016-01-04T19:40:00.002-05:002016-01-11T18:31:09.460-05:00one more catholic on Social MediaBIG NEWS!<br />
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one more catholic is now on Pinterest as "<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/onemorecatholic/">one more catholic</a>"...<br />
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If you've been keeping up with the blog, you'll notice that the look has been changing...and changing...and changing. I'm trying to make it look good while being functional and easy to use. That's why I added the social media share buttons, my new Twitter feed, a simple search button, and the new logo. More minor design changes and a Facebook page are in the works!<br />
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Enjoy this last week of Christmas!<br />
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--Rebecca</div>
Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-18443594828556535842016-01-03T17:55:00.002-05:002016-01-03T17:55:53.929-05:00I'm a Beautiful Daughter of God Who Thinks She's Fat<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!" (Matthew 6:21-23)</span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">True life: I'm a beautiful daughter of God who thinks she's fat.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">You may be able to relate. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">For years, I've heard that I'm a beautiful daughter of God. It was once novel for me to hear that. It is still a wondrous thing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">And I <i>know </i>that God loves me no matter <i>what. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">But I am human, and I am worldly. And I have a tendency to believe I'm fat. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Perhaps it's not just a tendency. Perhaps it's my belief. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I am one of five girls. If you have sisters, you'll understand; things get catty. Sisters don't throw punches, but insults. Punches probably hurt a lot less. For the last decade or so, I've heard it from my sisters: <i>You're fat. </i>Maybe I'm not fat by American standards, or I don't look it to the eye, but t</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">houghts like that build up like plaque that can only be cleaned by the Divine Dentist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I try to exercise at least five times a week. When I'm at home I frequently go hiking with my dad. I've always gravitated toward healthy foods like fruit, vegetables and meat, and as I got older, I made conscious decisions to choose to eat those foods in addition to drinking only water (except on special occasions). I lead a fairly healthy life. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqejL_4oz9Z-qKo5XbWcMtNjEsom4tAIWQj4EvANuoxX4Rh86tgvD4-ZgUf61wefs4Xju0k0E7kC_Czeom1iS1CeCwWcogu4mHom9A_rzuH7PBEcGRCzzabhEY6Hampf2GdSuzA96lp89/s1600/IMG_8992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqejL_4oz9Z-qKo5XbWcMtNjEsom4tAIWQj4EvANuoxX4Rh86tgvD4-ZgUf61wefs4Xju0k0E7kC_Czeom1iS1CeCwWcogu4mHom9A_rzuH7PBEcGRCzzabhEY6Hampf2GdSuzA96lp89/s640/IMG_8992.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our view from a hike this summer in the Appalachian Mountains</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But it's hard for me to remember that when I find myself in front of the mirror once again. I've always been <i>bigger </i>than my sisters, from my wide shoulders down to my flat feet. And when I put on a bit of weight eighteen months ago, I thought my world was coming to an end. After my first semester away at college, panicked at my (slight) weight gain, I came home and began to severely restrict my calorie intake. I set a goal to lose five pounds over the month I spent at home; I lost it. I did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But it came at a high price. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was nearly starving my body, but worse, I was starving my soul. I felt as if all I had learned that semester, all the prayer and time I had put in to my relationship with God, was slowly coming undone. I had picked at a scab that had begun to heal when suddenly blood came gushing forth once more, and I felt powerless to stop it. I was underfed both physically and spiritually. During that time, I rarely went to daily Mass (which had become normal practice for me) and I ate little. My "daily bread" was gone, and I had forgotten to continue asking God for it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I forgot to ask God for anything, including help.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's worth mentioning that, during that dark time, I would look back with envy on pictures of "skinny me" from high school. While doing so, I remembered those "skinny" times as the best times of my life. Now, I realize that's not the case. In fact, the times when I weighed the least and looked the best were often miserable. The last few skinny years of high school saw me through some questionable decisions that easily could have turned my life in another direction. However, thanks to the Eucharist and a nagging priest, I eventually made the decision to attend Franciscan University, a decision which changed my life. Around the time that I made that decision, I started slowly gaining weight. I continued to do so throughout my first semester at Franciscan. However, those "heavier" times were <i>truly </i>the most wonderful, fruitful periods of my life (excluding the following year). My spiritual life flourished, I persevered in prayer, and I began to set a beautiful foundation for a life in Christ.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If I could take that month back, I would. I hated it. I felt myself slipping away from God. But even after I returned to Franciscan, cleaned up my act, and began to regret my choices during that break, I could not keep away my thoughts. I would wake up in the morning and have to face Fat once again. I had no idea how to handle such a spiritual attack with God. All this time, He reached out to me to run to Him, but I was caught in a tornado of lies. Maybe I was eating well once more, but I was failing to <i>feast</i> at His table. The devil had a hold on me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In their book <i>Captivating</i>, John and Stasi Eldredge explain why the devil takes it upon himself to destroy God's beautiful children, <i>especially </i>through distorting beauty: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMHVipCshJVTr3YjSg95yZCOkS7YBRx1obIl8s8FKJrBbQQ2XBr17oJpdCGr1y-tlMVTbdmMhbm_iOJLh2Pk44wFEJx92X4nzFCyiv9pb47gWKMCkdcKBLtujuRTsDcoW2EZxiURanmWn/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-01-02+at+11.59.07+PM.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGMHVipCshJVTr3YjSg95yZCOkS7YBRx1obIl8s8FKJrBbQQ2XBr17oJpdCGr1y-tlMVTbdmMhbm_iOJLh2Pk44wFEJx92X4nzFCyiv9pb47gWKMCkdcKBLtujuRTsDcoW2EZxiURanmWn/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-01-02+at+11.59.07+PM.png" width="640" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20.23px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Satan fell because of his beauty. Now his heart for revenge is to assault beauty… he hates Eve.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 20.23px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because she is captivating, uniquely glorious, and he cannot be.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The devil hates woman so much that he takes her beauty and distorts it. In some cases, the woman's body is an object of lust, a terrible distortion of love. In my case, I had a worldly image of beauty that caused me to equate happiness with slimness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For me, that assault on beauty meant that I would wake up every day thinking <i>I'm fat</i>. I would suffer silently with those thoughts as I dressed myself for the day, as I faced my reflection a hundred times each day, as I chose what to eat in the cafeteria, and as I shimmied into my pajamas for the night. A silent, suffocating torture paralyzed me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I haven't beaten this thing, whatever it is. I still have good days and bad; I alternate between hideous and beautiful. But now, I am aware of tiny thoughts sneaking into my head. I invoke Saint Michael the Archangel and Mary, both of whom cause the devil to flee in an instant. I am also making an effort to voice my struggle to others with honesty. I want to share this as a part of <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-marian-virtue-project.html">the month of profound humility</a>, in an effort to be transparent with you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We are all body <i>and </i>spirit, so both must be nourished. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” (1 Corinthians 6:19)</span> </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt3sx76pFY9jl-OthrjvAJfXIFeGnAY-xp8VQUd-fT4BbB1fcwCyJedlCflj5ai53weJT7_k9MHR6ZuePKjSK8Fx0MkGFmMAoGHanZsTyiDGZ0UtJOM6ZpxR1_s6cAlhn2C5J3Ptr7j29/s1600/Blessed_Virgin_Mary_Crushing_Devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt3sx76pFY9jl-OthrjvAJfXIFeGnAY-xp8VQUd-fT4BbB1fcwCyJedlCflj5ai53weJT7_k9MHR6ZuePKjSK8Fx0MkGFmMAoGHanZsTyiDGZ0UtJOM6ZpxR1_s6cAlhn2C5J3Ptr7j29/s640/Blessed_Virgin_Mary_Crushing_Devil.jpg" width="348" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary defeating Satan. <br />
mysticsofthechurch,com.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zuLfKkoogCLM9ingQbwOLXpFpdBecuPXdQVDLIWhCskM8XMW_f7rR7kI-sonvY9RJkgiSnK7oiyZ4R9XTjWIuR5AaqGHaDCJ8d8BEeqTLYJkrTFGSGX07l2ZdFIOcZcTibQ7zszU553p/s1600/Saint+Michael+boss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zuLfKkoogCLM9ingQbwOLXpFpdBecuPXdQVDLIWhCskM8XMW_f7rR7kI-sonvY9RJkgiSnK7oiyZ4R9XTjWIuR5AaqGHaDCJ8d8BEeqTLYJkrTFGSGX07l2ZdFIOcZcTibQ7zszU553p/s400/Saint+Michael+boss.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Francesco Cosa, <i>Saint Michael the Archangel Vanquishing the Devil. </i>pinterest.com.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God bless. </span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm about to read John Paul II's <a href="https://www.ewtn.com/library/PAPALDOC/JP2TBIND.HTM">Theology of the Body</a> from beginning to end, as a part of my continual quest to learn about the physical body in the context of the Catholic Church. I am so excited to begin this journey. (I've read bits and pieces before, but now I'm going straight to the source and reading everything in context.)</i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></i><br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-10858848200965673512015-12-22T22:54:00.001-05:002015-12-28T17:17:59.890-05:00My Heart's A Manger<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span class="text Luke-2-4" id="en-NABRE-29297" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NABRE-29297A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NABRE-29297A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> </span><span class="text Luke-2-5" id="en-NABRE-29298" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NABRE-29298B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NABRE-29298B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> </span><span class="text Luke-2-6" id="en-NABRE-29299" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, </span><span class="text Luke-2-7" id="en-NABRE-29300" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+2%3A4-6&version=NABRE">Luke 2:4-6</a>)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-nLrlr7foHKy3mubUlpW6s9YqNvrHH9D0m-h33lFSHvwgkYEYuOksD0cIepbCCNXkLsfrvILpMyzUgJ38AH51mwBoA9ee7JGlPzU6GxfG5oqPRi5ti7eov7KCSWu50p0ZvqSBTPPTyUZ/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-nLrlr7foHKy3mubUlpW6s9YqNvrHH9D0m-h33lFSHvwgkYEYuOksD0cIepbCCNXkLsfrvILpMyzUgJ38AH51mwBoA9ee7JGlPzU6GxfG5oqPRi5ti7eov7KCSWu50p0ZvqSBTPPTyUZ/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary, clearly distressed from childbirth, holds her "newborn" son, Jesus. Doting animals included. </td></tr>
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</span></i></span></blockquote>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps you've heard of a tradition some Christian families have: As Advent begins, the family sets up a Nativity scene. When a child does a good deed, he or she may put a piece of hay in the manger of the family's Nativity set. </span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The idea is that, when Christmas rolls around, the manger will be a bed of soft hay, ready for Jesus to be born of Mary. Years ago, my family practiced this tradition. Throughout Advent, we kids burst with excitement at the end of each day as we listed our good deeds to Dad, who would reward us with a few pieces of hay. I remember carefully arranging the hay to prepare for the tiny ceramic Jesus, soon to arrive. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Advent is a time for preparation. We prepare for Christmas; we prepare our hearts to welcome the infant Jesus. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a cradle Catholic, I could probably recite verbatim the verse in Luke that recounts Jesus' birth. Swaddling clothes, manger, no room at the inn. Most Christmas story board books are made from that verse. There's Jesus, lying in a manger of hay with a halo around his head. He sleeps peacefully while Mary, his doting mother, and several smiling cartoonish farm animals look on. Looking at these scenes, it's easy to forget the immeasurable humility of the Lord. Our God and Savior was born in a <i>stable</i>. As the wonderful </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Venerable </span><a href="http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features2005/fsheen_advchristmas_dec05.asp" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">Fulton Sheen</a> puts it<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No room in the inn, but there was room in the stable. The inn was the gathering place of public opinion, the focal point of the world's moods, the rendezvous of the worldly, the rallying place of the popular and the successful. But there's no room in the place where the world gathers. The stable is a place for outcasts, the ignored and the forgotten.</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The world might have expected the Son of God to be born in an inn; a stable would certainly be the last place in the world where one would look for him. The lesson is: divinity is always where you least expect to find it. So the Son of God made man is invited to enter into his own world through a back door.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></blockquote>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our God's captivating Love is beyond my understanding. Through a woman, Mary, He has come down to the earth He created just for us. For <i>me</i>. For you. And He <i>continues to be present</i>, in all the tabernacles of the world, in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and--through communion--in our hearts. The Lord is infinitely greater than we, but He comes out of love for us. Just as no one would expect Jesus to be born in a stable or placed in a manger, where the cattle feed, no one would expect Jesus to come into our hearts. But he was and he does. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My heart is a manger. It's the last place I'd expect Jesus to be. It's riddled with sin, despair, darkness, and depravity. During Advent, I prepare my heart for Jesus. Through tiny good deeds, or difficult but just choices, I can place one piece of hay at a time in my little manger of a heart. There might not be cattle feeding there, but my heart, like a manger, is only good when I've placed enough hay inside. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe my heart-manger isn't soft enough yet for Jesus' birth. Maybe my "manger" will still be fairly empty come Christmas morning. Jesus will come into my heart anyway because he <i>loves. </i></span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I'm still trying to prepare a place for him to lay his head. </span></span><br />
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text Luke-2-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Lord, come into our hearts at Christmas and fill us with Your Joy. </i></span></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-10647881187686608622015-09-29T19:25:00.001-04:002015-12-28T17:18:18.849-05:00Review: The Perfect Blindside<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today I am excited to share with you the very first <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/p/about-onemorecatholic.html">one more catholic</a> book review! <a href="https://twitter.com/paulineauthors">Cathy Knipper</a> of <a href="http://www.pauline.org/">Pauline Media</a> asked me to review <a href="http://lesleawahl.com/">Leslea Wahl</a>'s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Blindside-Leslea-Wahl/dp/0819860131/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1435805449&sr=8-1&keywords=the+perfect+blindside+book">The Perfect Blindside</a></i>, a novel for Catholic teens.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAf57ds8Jwy7EthfxcPdjxMDV2Sw2Y_UONjL7DxOJs4O80ffCCmYazbm4x8iK2i0ffUj2-jZLGToGB2mJzhphlkOZNL72dzdvSN-TQfqUJJSSTKhy5FfoJIV5SdC8adcuCVSm8Iq-DAcz/s400/51sLF9Ae85L.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="266" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Courtesy of <i>lesleawahl.com</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First, I want to applaud Wahl for telling a realistic story, weaving in the Catholic faith artfully without overwhelming her readers or detracting from the plot. When I was a young teenager, many of the Christian teen novels I read frustrated me because they were cheesy; the characters, model Christians in constant inner dialogue with the Lord, lacked depth. With <i>The Perfect Blindside, </i>Leslea Wahl strikes a harmonious balance between the Catholic faith and her moving story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The Perfect Blindside </i>shifts between the first-person voices of characters Sophie and Jake (i.e., every other chapter is Sophie's perspective). Sophie Metcalf, fed up with the antics of arrogant snowboarding prodigy Jake Taylor, sets out to expose his true character. Sophie, a gentle and intelligent high school junior, despises Jake for moving to her small Colorado town. Jake wants only to focus on snowboarding and his newfound Olympic fame. But a series of odd circumstances surrounding an old silver mine forces Jake and Sophie to become partners, amateur sleuths in a puzzling mystery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unlike the empty Christian characters I became accustomed to as a young teenager, Sophie deals with the typical struggles of her teenage life while learning to rely on God. <i>The Perfect Blindside </i>is not about Sophie's prayer life; it is the tale of Sophie and Jake and a perplexing crime. Sophie's quiet, faithful devotion to the Lord adds depth to her character and offers a connection with young readers who are trying to live out their Catholic faith in a secular world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What I love most about <i>The Perfect Blindside </i>is that Sophie and Jake are normal teenagers. They are not young Christian robots, nor are they rebellious teenaged runaways experiencing major conversions. Sophie and Jake are simply teenagers who struggle with relationships, the Catholic faith, listening to their parents, and avoiding risky situations. They deal with crushes and mean girls at school. They use cell phones and shop at the local mall. Young readers can connect with Sophie and Jake. The first-person perspective shifts allow for both girls and boys to relate with the characters. Drama and mystery lurk within each chapter so that the reader never bores. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you, Pauline Media, for allowing me to review <i>The Perfect Blindside. </i>I recommend this book to teens, tweens, and Catholic parents searching for wholesome, intriguing novels for their children! <i>The Perfect Blindside </i>is the book I wish I had read as a young teenager.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You can enter a giveaway for the book <a href="http://lesleawahl.com/2015/09/181/">here</a>. For more reviews, or to purchase <i>The Perfect Blindside, </i>look <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Blindside-Leslea-Wahl/dp/0819860131/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1435805449&sr=8-1&keywords=the+perfect+blindside+book">here</a> and <a href="http://store.pauline.org/english/books/productid/4542.aspx#gsc.tab=0">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.pauline.org/">Pauline Books & Media</a> provided me with a free copy of <i>The Perfect Blindside </i>in exchange for an honest review. </span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-78575548234726964132015-09-25T22:10:00.004-04:002015-12-28T17:18:28.388-05:00Fun with Gifs: The Marian Virtues According to Saint Louis de Montfort<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The 10 Marian Virtues According to Louis de Montfort </b></span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Or "Just for Fun, I Share How I Pictured the Marian Virtues Before I Learned about Them"):</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. Ardent Charity</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTETTmJjDW7Ghzo2ASKCQeC3NnCHkVw0JU1YhKpQ1VENg7vfVVW3O9DambS9Dr9A7Jtxntgcu41hCOXvMxePxjhjYXwsPJaVTZ8A9lOG70T7p41I-xaAUWgLdIUeuMpF-xtstGjTZiGXJK/s1600/481291a0-2827-0133-4715-0a2ca390b447.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTETTmJjDW7Ghzo2ASKCQeC3NnCHkVw0JU1YhKpQ1VENg7vfVVW3O9DambS9Dr9A7Jtxntgcu41hCOXvMxePxjhjYXwsPJaVTZ8A9lOG70T7p41I-xaAUWgLdIUeuMpF-xtstGjTZiGXJK/s320/481291a0-2827-0133-4715-0a2ca390b447.gif" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via bustle.com</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. Profound Humility</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmXbMciPasG3nw_Rq2z3fZ_n3QgMIbkFpXh_2_iHKZU8GM3MUENKsIfr0lvCdEWDJPgOjS0-lbBnawioqp-XSrgtmixw-2gNMf97-NZP1WrRhkSoigIqDDgCrQ4B6NmYfcMtu51s2NCfp/s1600/giphy-3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmXbMciPasG3nw_Rq2z3fZ_n3QgMIbkFpXh_2_iHKZU8GM3MUENKsIfr0lvCdEWDJPgOjS0-lbBnawioqp-XSrgtmixw-2gNMf97-NZP1WrRhkSoigIqDDgCrQ4B6NmYfcMtu51s2NCfp/s400/giphy-3.gif" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via Giphy.com</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">3. Universal Mortification</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdf-aURloduPZQSGg4WpNz8WQW-7PHEnoZYcZAvRCpni-ZW3qorKaawFkYgC5CqBVoeplwOmtqu1YRhg5jjuGTFSwDgV6rHcCdaLgjl7RPJx30oY_Jj9R90Q2P2avD39n7tCwejIy6BhM/s1600/giphy-4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdf-aURloduPZQSGg4WpNz8WQW-7PHEnoZYcZAvRCpni-ZW3qorKaawFkYgC5CqBVoeplwOmtqu1YRhg5jjuGTFSwDgV6rHcCdaLgjl7RPJx30oY_Jj9R90Q2P2avD39n7tCwejIy6BhM/s400/giphy-4.gif" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via Giphy.com</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Constant Mental Prayer</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XVHxWOaWteFnmuIsememiPbX8ai6rmF1f1PgjHl-CXDdYSh2eURtos8P_YNtTklhFViBWnxkzZi_0o-EAt15nH54ZDBi8G_V2mIy2eeSkZ1DzG1Madh_r0_JsHydr552HUUa-It3H3Jj/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-05-29+at+10.33.01+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XVHxWOaWteFnmuIsememiPbX8ai6rmF1f1PgjHl-CXDdYSh2eURtos8P_YNtTklhFViBWnxkzZi_0o-EAt15nH54ZDBi8G_V2mIy2eeSkZ1DzG1Madh_r0_JsHydr552HUUa-It3H3Jj/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-05-29+at+10.33.01+AM.png" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via Netflix</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">5. Blind Obedience</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qMXCO1u1AjBmEiSVcpoTWyiQhiobdZKtaVi0b5biabWsJRBjo74fNIDJT7tk_aY4rV9f6HbwlBD-SeiNxFVgGNSg1yknQDkcTJD0q1GAMOOGRVp39WRBfhwTXdEAY3UcoTyv-DUlipp4/s1600/tumblr_n3f9kaVKGi1s5tknvo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qMXCO1u1AjBmEiSVcpoTWyiQhiobdZKtaVi0b5biabWsJRBjo74fNIDJT7tk_aY4rV9f6HbwlBD-SeiNxFVgGNSg1yknQDkcTJD0q1GAMOOGRVp39WRBfhwTXdEAY3UcoTyv-DUlipp4/s400/tumblr_n3f9kaVKGi1s5tknvo1_500.gif" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via tumblr</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">6. Divine Wisdom </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh33XkwvCktncQMjbvJaJPnicwjAKwp5IgyoeWEh60UUicWSbsgcG4fSlv9Yrvh5Do9oVXRIHxrvDtcTObdy-xyi8DzhKIUr6DCskVvxuT17uRM_0XEYwkHeu_2GKoeCUTvZT-8P5OgH0/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o2_r1_250.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh33XkwvCktncQMjbvJaJPnicwjAKwp5IgyoeWEh60UUicWSbsgcG4fSlv9Yrvh5Do9oVXRIHxrvDtcTObdy-xyi8DzhKIUr6DCskVvxuT17uRM_0XEYwkHeu_2GKoeCUTvZT-8P5OgH0/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o2_r1_250.gif" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkG0RaZH07g0VaJWB1YzA6Tj3w4hEKynHjhzBim8UlgMb0rBP3ncH6myFMLKwBhKntP9DaWOZ-WPa2dXIJ79XzrxaO4zx0NxV0yltkM-x0xb1j_JmKPqUqhRaXjx6eCqevMiuMNkQ0UgS/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o1_r1_250.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkG0RaZH07g0VaJWB1YzA6Tj3w4hEKynHjhzBim8UlgMb0rBP3ncH6myFMLKwBhKntP9DaWOZ-WPa2dXIJ79XzrxaO4zx0NxV0yltkM-x0xb1j_JmKPqUqhRaXjx6eCqevMiuMNkQ0UgS/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o1_r1_250.gif" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDGSteUIcbd6HHby6gOxj7LHpUkbIPXjZTKK1DiN2Sy_TKwvw9vja5-ohP_GD4LyTje-4Vv1b9wrwFThB-gujytioDGDtVkNP1K2a5bW4eLuMI1IxVNFgHUalBYJ6HIczDIkhwHVa5QYF/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o3_r1_250.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHDGSteUIcbd6HHby6gOxj7LHpUkbIPXjZTKK1DiN2Sy_TKwvw9vja5-ohP_GD4LyTje-4Vv1b9wrwFThB-gujytioDGDtVkNP1K2a5bW4eLuMI1IxVNFgHUalBYJ6HIczDIkhwHVa5QYF/s1600/tumblr_maz03nuvHz1rejsa3o3_r1_250.gif" /></span></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The English major in me wants to correct his pronoun usage. </span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via tumblr.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">7. Surpassing Purity</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vj45p5BOvNVq9dfjJIQxDzYYFhEActxhSSFSwPFCV1zv8iKECmGnDggdUNMc61Pv_M5cvwH7TSO5FBKs9m9KlX1bqcD7t9pY_0SgCHO2bwBxjzxpiLzgExF-HSefSksyfnjWgpk9V2tI/s1600/tumblr_nmea0yXMLC1rsjmzqo1_400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vj45p5BOvNVq9dfjJIQxDzYYFhEActxhSSFSwPFCV1zv8iKECmGnDggdUNMc61Pv_M5cvwH7TSO5FBKs9m9KlX1bqcD7t9pY_0SgCHO2bwBxjzxpiLzgExF-HSefSksyfnjWgpk9V2tI/s320/tumblr_nmea0yXMLC1rsjmzqo1_400.gif" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via nkayesel.com</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">8. Angelic Sweetness</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbN5CyVKKCf-xQabfNBbSYI6Wz-ldlPW60lUz_trQmApsxdM1D-0x2o5wXABOOyXdMyORGtdPt8khtjoIT8xQMRZuzf6eNo5fZEFlRpuIWszLYId5HJ7cSuUvYBG-Mdu6O4BLyGsHf9wwh/s1600/tumblr_mi2puaqEvF1rmpnrlo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbN5CyVKKCf-xQabfNBbSYI6Wz-ldlPW60lUz_trQmApsxdM1D-0x2o5wXABOOyXdMyORGtdPt8khtjoIT8xQMRZuzf6eNo5fZEFlRpuIWszLYId5HJ7cSuUvYBG-Mdu6O4BLyGsHf9wwh/s400/tumblr_mi2puaqEvF1rmpnrlo1_500.gif" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via tumblr.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">9. Lively Faith</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Hwu93jiEO2uSnHddrPWFbD2TRaZUDmJBRBd4bc5j5tCvzEfKPPBsckiQ59PTq2j25EjM_MHsgXFKW0fD8jXh3fxhAwQVUdWfUkHahFbNCLrND_K7UuHHVTyfo3eBSbGbuY10zesiNWW/s1600/tumblr_mgew31082I1rxtdxuo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Hwu93jiEO2uSnHddrPWFbD2TRaZUDmJBRBd4bc5j5tCvzEfKPPBsckiQ59PTq2j25EjM_MHsgXFKW0fD8jXh3fxhAwQVUdWfUkHahFbNCLrND_K7UuHHVTyfo3eBSbGbuY10zesiNWW/s400/tumblr_mgew31082I1rxtdxuo1_500.gif" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Via tumblr.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">10. Heroic Patience </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-YIwFuTOAhOqOvl7-e6uCZPN0d2Dm1VdiWxP4XaEeREVBd8F53nZ7FnvjU8m3_1JSF9mjow4dfjUN8bX0RBr4rmWC8QM6hEC_dlzj4iWZlr2Mloul0EI4_BACoVgN-4PLMs3dC5lFcKX/s1600/giphy-2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-YIwFuTOAhOqOvl7-e6uCZPN0d2Dm1VdiWxP4XaEeREVBd8F53nZ7FnvjU8m3_1JSF9mjow4dfjUN8bX0RBr4rmWC8QM6hEC_dlzj4iWZlr2Mloul0EI4_BACoVgN-4PLMs3dC5lFcKX/s320/giphy-2.gif" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Keep praying for Pope Francis as he travels to Philadelphia from New York, and stay tuned for more on the Marian virtues. My good friend Abby and I will be sharing our Marian Virtue Project with you shortly!</i></span></div>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-16701535596843116282015-09-20T23:40:00.001-04:002015-12-28T17:18:39.338-05:00My Nagging Mother<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I love my mom. I always have. But when she quit dyeing her hair while I was in high school, letting it grow out to gray, I was mortified. Selfishly, I couldn't see why she would give up dyeing her hair other than to embarrass me. Mom had other reasons, of course, but I thought she existed solely to ruin my life. Throughout my high school years, she drove me to school in a large white delivery-type van, unashamedly conversed with cute boys my age without consulting me, wore hideous frameless glasses and ankle-length skirts, and sang opera-style at church. I used to hide and blush and cry "Mooooom!" at her embarrassing antics. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometime around my junior year of high school, however, I realized that my mom wasn't going away. I loved her then as I do now, so I resolved to stick by her instead of fearing that someone might figure out we were related. For so long, my mother annoyed me. But it took those years of annoyance to foster personal growth. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My mom wasn't going to change simply because I (or any one of my sisters) was ashamed of her. She stood by us even when we complained, argued, cried, made fun of her, disobeyed, and pushed her away. She continued to be herself. She did our laundry and made dinner and cleaned the house and worked so that we could go to college and washed the dishes and fed the dog. Mom waited for us to come around. More accurately, she ignored our embarrassment and continued to be our mother. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You may be wondering why I'm telling you about my mother. Well, this summer, I consecrated myself to Jesus through Mary according to Saint Louis de Montfort's Marian Consecration. The consecration involves a 33-day preparation period of prayer before the day of consecration, usually a Marian feast day (mine is the Assumption). The consecrated then devotes him- or herself to prayer, especially inviting the Blessed Mother to reside in his/her heart. de Montfort suggests wearing a "consecration chain" around the neck or wrist. On August 15, I prepared for my consecration by having a priest bless my consecration chain and eagerly sealed it around my wrist with pliers. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsH-MP0l8_0yBguCGZrd36Ekg9_x8FwAD6Ma_KX2A15Dy8xzPMrlmfvEYM7L-34m7bXf6SMObmKjfbsMFjg4ovBzZQ0_GuZu4AyqiES306zN2BBp1so5FkG6wlNhufyz6dcYQMdv-odfa/s1600/IMG_9688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsH-MP0l8_0yBguCGZrd36Ekg9_x8FwAD6Ma_KX2A15Dy8xzPMrlmfvEYM7L-34m7bXf6SMObmKjfbsMFjg4ovBzZQ0_GuZu4AyqiES306zN2BBp1so5FkG6wlNhufyz6dcYQMdv-odfa/s320/IMG_9688.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Excited to have an outward reminder of my devotion, I promptly forgot that the chain was permanent. Night after night, I attempted to peel the chain off my wrist as I would a bracelet. I grew increasingly annoyed with the chain, but I promised myself I would not remove it. The chain annoyed me, but my awareness of it was a constant reminder of my obligation to Our Lady. The purpose of a consecration chain is to remind the consecrated of her slavery to Mary, and mine was doing just that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like my mom, Mary annoyed me. Her chain on my wrist alerts me of my slavery and my promise to her--but it is also a constant reminder of her love for me. My mom annoyed me in high school, but I came to realize that she loved me just the same. It took a while then for me to come around, and it took a while more recently for me to realize that Mary was not trying to annoy me, but rather asking for me to draw near to her Son! What a loving mother she is to annoy me so much. Each time I become hyper-aware of the chain, I try to focus my attention on our Blessed Mother rather than my own exasperation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's tough. I'm working on it. Mom's holding me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Am I not here, I, who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need anything more? Let nothing else worry you, disturb you.</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYwACVQt5hq6ptu6QySygkqEBugibgToY0koetYDlCxgTXYdqpeDeTafRXWP0NH0qTZ1MQ6eRRXJWQ8MGYZbSb7GDPeaOsuhuwO1Akyjsm1tgMctoArwGvWQnK7e4smf7DDQGkr6tEQPE/s1600/ctourladyofguadalupe2250.homestead.com.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYwACVQt5hq6ptu6QySygkqEBugibgToY0koetYDlCxgTXYdqpeDeTafRXWP0NH0qTZ1MQ6eRRXJWQ8MGYZbSb7GDPeaOsuhuwO1Akyjsm1tgMctoArwGvWQnK7e4smf7DDQGkr6tEQPE/s400/ctourladyofguadalupe2250.homestead.com.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">ctourladyofguadalupe2250.homestead.com</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Stay tuned to </i>one more catholic<i> for more on Marian consecration, Marian devotion, and the Marian virtues! </i></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-40405756125627478812015-09-03T21:28:00.003-04:002015-12-28T17:18:51.422-05:00All Who Are Weak<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I rushed from the library to my dorm, I remembered I still had an unfinished Rosary hanging over my head. Still, I galloped past the chapel, mentally turning over the half-dozen tasks I needed to complete. <i>Later</i>, I told myself, stifling my desire to pray with a reminder of the long to-do list awaiting me. But then I slowed my pace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Did I not have ten minutes to offer the Lord in between homework and working out? Did I not owe the Blessed Mother thirty "I-love-yous" that made up the last three Glorious Mysteries? The Catholic guilt catching up with me, I pivoted on my heel and crept in to the chapel, almost sulking. <i>I have too much to do. I can pray later</i>, I thought, my interior warring with itself as I slipped into the back pew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then the tabernacle came into view. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Any tiny regret I had about entering into this prayerful place was banished immediately. In that moment, I realized that the Lord was calling me there, waiting patiently for me. He seemed to be beckoning, urging me to <i>s</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>it. Stay a while</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wanted to apologize for my behavior a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">s a foolish child recognizing the authority of her parents</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. My resistance to prayer, you see, is not unusual. I tend to squeeze prayer into my daily routine rather than making it a central component of my day. Far too often, I fail to recognize that even ten minutes with the Lord feeds my ravenous soul. I ignore my</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> hunger. I squirmed in the pew that evening, uncomfortable with my own impatience. The Lord patiently gazed back at me. He loved me then. He loves me now. He loves us all so much as to wait for us each day, to come to us humbly in the form of bread and wine and then to subject Himself to constant rejection. We certainly owe Him more than a few minutes of prayer, but sometimes that is all we can manage, and in His mercy He loves us nonetheless. Saint Francis de Sales teaches:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He who truly loves prayer loves it for the love of God, and he who loves it for the love of God wishes to experience in it nothing but what God is pleased to send him. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You tell me that you cannot pray well. But what better prayer could there be than to represent to God again and again, as you are doing, your nothingness and misery. The most touching appeal that beggars can make is to merely expose to us their deformities and necessities. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am nothing more than a beggar. Even that day, I did not finish my Rosary in the chapel. I did, however, slow my pace just enough to feel the irresistible tug of Jesus' love. And, oddly enough, I did not regret spending ten minutes in prayer. I wish that I spent <i>more</i> time with Jesus that evening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When the Lord tells me to slow down, I tend to hear Him and ignore Him. When we don't think we have time to pray, it is then that we need to pray. The Lord is waiting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sit down. Stay a while. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Christ the King Chapel at Franciscan (spring 2015)</span></td></tr>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-37152220956047965132015-08-22T21:57:00.001-04:002015-12-28T17:19:07.092-05:00Reasons to Write Letters<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">As many of my friends know, I enjoy writing letters. Though email, texting, and a host of other media are instantaneous and easy ways to contact friends and family, I've put together a list of reasons why good old-fashioned letter-writing is my preferred method of communication. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the letters I've received over the past year</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>The wait is exciting.</b> There might be weeks or months between letters. Yet I still check the mailbox every day in anticipation of a reply, because I know it's coming. Corresponding by mail can be an exercise in patience, but what a glorious day when that little envelope arrives!</span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>It shows that you care.</b> Writing and mailing a letter takes time. You're telling the recipient, "I spent time, effort, and forty-nine cents to get in touch with you. You matter." When<a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/08/corn-cattle-and-catholicism.html"> I got back from Kansas</a>, I had three handwritten letters awaiting my return, and I felt incredibly loved.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>It's a great way to keep in touch. </b>I'm a fan of Skype, and I enjoy making and receiving calls, but with jobs, events, and time zone differences, they are often difficult to coordinate. Letters can be written at your leisure. You can start a letter, then drive the soccer carpool and do the dishes, and pick up the pen later when things are less hectic.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>You can get creative with them. </b>Experiment with fun stickers, different stamps, and coordinating stationery. Tuck in prayer cards or other small gifts. I've received a rosary, origami birds, an Advent calendar, and Disney princess stickers along with letters. Recently, my friend Paige sealed her letter to me with wax! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>It's much more romantic than a good-morning text. </b>Taking into account all of the above, sending a letter to your beloved requires time, effort, creativity, and care. A letter captures one's attention. Think of all the love stories where letters between romantic partners come into play. Marius' <a href="http://www.online-literature.com/victor_hugo/les_miserables/247/">love letter to Cosette</a> in <i>Les Miserables</i> moved her deeply:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">"Each one of these mysterious lines shone before her eyes and inundated her heart with a strange radiance. [...] This manuscript of fifteen pages suddenly and sweetly revealed to her all of love, sorrow, destiny, life, eternity, the beginning, the end. It was as if a hand had opened and suddenly flung upon her a handful of rays of light. In these few lines she felt a passionate, ardent, generous, honest nature, a sacred will, an immense sorrow, and an immense despair, a suffering heart, an ecstasy fully expanded. What was this manuscript? A letter."</span> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me know if you can think of any more reasons to write letters! In the meantime, I need to finish packing. I head back to Steubenville for school tomorrow morning. Anyway, writing this post reminded me of a song by Jackie Francois, so feel free to listen to that below. God bless! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-40797947233800212792015-08-13T19:16:00.001-04:002015-12-28T17:19:15.112-05:00Corn, Cattle, and Catholicism<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I went to Kansas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought about it for a while beforehand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I told myself I didn't need to go, that there was nothing to do in Kansas, and that I had seen it already (while passing through on a road trip to Yellowstone). But the pull of Kansas was just too strong, so l</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ast week, I packed my bags and flew into Wichita, where I surprised some friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And let me tell you, Kansas is fabulous. (With that sentence, I have given my sisters license to make fun of me for the next sixteen years, approximately.) I'll start by saying that yes, there are a lot of cornfields. And cattle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remembered only corn from my last trip through Kansas. "There's nothing but corn in Kansas," I insisted. My friends tried to convince me otherwise. "We have sunflowers! And wheat!" Well, I do not believe them. Here is a helpful chart from my trip (numbers are approximate):</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">SUNFLOWER FIELD COUNT: 0</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">WHEAT FIELD COUNT: 0</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">CORNFIELD COUNT: 16,293</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My friends claimed that sunflowers and wheat were "out of season." Sure, guys. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, once I got past the corn, I realized that Kansas actually has a lot to offer. There are more stars in the sky than I've ever seen. The sunsets are stunning, free from obstruction. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And Kansas boasts incredible lightning storms. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought I might be killed by the lightning, but it was still fun to watch.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I think what I love most about Kansas is the Catholic community. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Wichita, KS</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is vibrant, young, and alive! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spiritual Life Center, Bel Aire, KS</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While I was in Wichita, I attended the Midwest Catholic Family Conference, which you can read about <a href="http://marianninja.blogspot.com/2015/07/12-reasons-why-you-should-consider.html">here</a>. I met many Catholics from the area, heard talks, went to Mass, and visited with religious sisters. As a part of the conference, Matt Maher put on a concert, which was incredible.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So close!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In addition to the conference, I attended a <a href="http://www.wichitaadore.com/">Wichita Adore</a> event. Basically, I went to Eucharistic Adoration with hundreds of other Catholics. Wichita Adore Ministries puts on events throughout the Wichita area, bringing people together for adoration and fellowship. After the event I attended, there was a dance in the parish hall. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There were plenty of opportunities to attend adoration. The greater Wichita area contains more Perpetual Adoration chapels than the entire state of Connecticut, so I was just giddy. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Michael's, Mulvane, KS</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The availability of the Eucharist is probably one of the reasons that the Wichita Diocese has dozens of seminarians, and plenty of young men and women discerning a call to the religious life. Even the daily Masses were extremely well-attended. I rejoiced in the fact that I was <i>not</i> one of the few Mass-goers under twenty-five. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcDi2OsxBExvEK7KprWj0X7FlFmWmcOQuokP12GBN5ZqKihTjc3lWtSqtdtgjfJ_SRgGrF3NyaTuMln_l3_6QfJWI7QHD9igsaHT8-eOmIdRJvz65-6yXOF16FKJeIYMCcgrStoOZuemg/s1600/IMG_9244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcDi2OsxBExvEK7KprWj0X7FlFmWmcOQuokP12GBN5ZqKihTjc3lWtSqtdtgjfJ_SRgGrF3NyaTuMln_l3_6QfJWI7QHD9igsaHT8-eOmIdRJvz65-6yXOF16FKJeIYMCcgrStoOZuemg/s320/IMG_9244.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, Wichita, KS</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2BktUtfN8sI_bLKR7YTrZ4GV2ruTXTRHVvIh2lr-RT3xObkVWsPNUvGwjgaTzhK6h6MgFyvqBflPi-yIuMaefNhGKllt-kZQ7RzYvgJX2tDCDc_gOfDCWOFp5xuXUA4dlzl3eukHXHxZ/s1600/IMG_9521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2BktUtfN8sI_bLKR7YTrZ4GV2ruTXTRHVvIh2lr-RT3xObkVWsPNUvGwjgaTzhK6h6MgFyvqBflPi-yIuMaefNhGKllt-kZQ7RzYvgJX2tDCDc_gOfDCWOFp5xuXUA4dlzl3eukHXHxZ/s320/IMG_9521.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Hearts Chapel, Wichita, KS </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All in all, Kansas was great. Yes, Wichita has a lot of cowboys and pickup trucks. Yes, I saw belt buckles as big as my head. Yes, there's a lot of corn. I like Kansas anyway. I almost didn't want to leave.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But after a long, exhausting, wonderful week, I headed home. Though my connecting flight was delayed, I watched an incredible sunset (in Chicago, not Kansas). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Kansas is lovely. But it's good to be home.</span></div>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-50308092072373700832015-08-11T17:13:00.000-04:002015-08-11T17:14:21.069-04:00A Series of Thank-Yous: To the Women<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To my beautiful sisters in Christ, thank you for being you. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women whose gentle example inspires me to become what I was made to be, thank you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women whose subtle admonitions encouraged me to grow, thank you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who cared for me when I was sick, tired, upset, or angry, thank you for your patience and understanding. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who went out of the way to make me feel loved and appreciated, thank you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who stopped by my dorm room to offer cookies (or food of any kind), thanks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who invited me to Mass, to talks, or to share a meal, thank you for thinking of me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who courageously stood outside of the abortion clinic with me, thank you for caring for all women, including the most vulnerable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who approached tedious situations with love, thank you for practicing what you preached. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who admit they aren’t perfect but nonetheless know their identities as daughters of the King, you rock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To my sisters in Christ who model themselves after our Heavenly Mother, model of perfect virtue, it shows. Thank you for your devotion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To all those genuine women, you are beautiful. Thank you for being unabashedly yourselves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who strive to better themselves daily for the glory of God, you inspire me and all those around you to do the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the women who call on the men around them to become true heroes of the faith, thank you a thousand times over. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My sisters, you are lovely because you are loved. Know that I love and appreciate you. Thank you for living your faith. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more noble her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could be written in terms of the level of its women.” </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>—Venerable Fulton Sheen</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This year, the Lord blessed me with the abundant love (agape) and friendship of many holy men and women. This post and </i><i><a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-series-of-thank-yous-to-men.html">a previous one</a> </i><i>are a series of thank-yous to these faithful friends and strangers who have done the work of the Lord without hesitation. </i></span></div>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-21090542018643676672015-08-10T10:09:00.000-04:002015-08-11T17:12:49.101-04:00My Patron, St. Lawrence<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today, I'm celebrating my birthday. It's also the feast day of a saint and martyr, Saint Lawrence!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-JYE74eduu5keS1O6FXKmQhHNafq8fJyICDZBh5DiTRWJJ7xD2KJBc9wRz3tZD43DcIDXkRh4NUKAFDcLvYy1djP2kJRq_BXoaLA2n-m-noM-WJX08eTg4FSYYDvKW7PgFTseHh6mAQN/s1600/st-lawrence-icon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-JYE74eduu5keS1O6FXKmQhHNafq8fJyICDZBh5DiTRWJJ7xD2KJBc9wRz3tZD43DcIDXkRh4NUKAFDcLvYy1djP2kJRq_BXoaLA2n-m-noM-WJX08eTg4FSYYDvKW7PgFTseHh6mAQN/s1600/st-lawrence-icon.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">St. Lawrence, or Lawrence of Rome, was a deacon in the third century. He was charged with the care of material goods in the Church and distribution of alms to the poor. When the Roman persecution of Catholics began, Lawrence knew he would be arrested and likely put to death. He, therefore, quickly distributed the Church's goods among the poor. Tradition dictates that St. Lawrence put aside only the Holy Grail, the chalice Christ used at the Last Supper. Then, seized while assisting with the Mass, St. Lawrence was brought before Roman officials:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Prefect of Rome, a greedy pagan, thought the Church had a great fortune hidden away. So he ordered Lawrence to bring the Church's treasure to him. The Saint said he would, in three days. Then he went through the city and gathered together all the poor and sick people supported by the Church. When he showed them to the Prefect, he said: "This is the Church's treasure!"</span><sup><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4117550104436687993#1" name="top1">1</a></sup></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Prefect of Rome, furious at St. Lawrence's gall, sentenced him to a slow death-by-roasting. St. Lawrence was placed on an iron grill over hot coals. During his painful execution, God granted St. Lawrence incredible strength and peace. Lawrence prayed fervently for the conversion of Rome as he was "cooked" over the coals. Just before his death, St. Lawrence uttered his </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">famous words: "Turn me over, I'm done on this side!"</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dSdmpgqI_5Em1-YDAg6tc-59jkxm17gpafHxdh2G5rsEpZmlBnK3ozQaUXxJLyZ-W1nR0SmTkO1FkmQjuQvxeGmdBlouKjeafl9yrM9LpggKPZLmgA-dM_gSsPC0Q0Eaw7_EOQEPaZUD/s1600/The+Martyrdom+of+Saint+Lawrence+The+J.+Paul+Getty+Museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dSdmpgqI_5Em1-YDAg6tc-59jkxm17gpafHxdh2G5rsEpZmlBnK3ozQaUXxJLyZ-W1nR0SmTkO1FkmQjuQvxeGmdBlouKjeafl9yrM9LpggKPZLmgA-dM_gSsPC0Q0Eaw7_EOQEPaZUD/s400/The+Martyrdom+of+Saint+Lawrence+The+J.+Paul+Getty+Museum.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Martyrdom of Saint Lawrence <br />
The J. Paul Getty Museum</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Accordingly, St. Lawrence is the patron of cooks and the poor. St. Lawrence, pray for us!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking martyrdom like a boss<br />
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<b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4117550104436687993" name="1"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1 </span></a></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-indent: -2em;">"St. Lawrence - Martyr."</span><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-indent: -2em;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-indent: -2em;">Saints & Angels</i><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-indent: -2em;">. Catholic Online, n.d. Web. 29 July 2015. <http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=366#wiki>.</span><span style="background-color: #f2f2f2; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-indent: -2em;"> </span></span><br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-12461664752736846072015-08-02T23:04:00.002-04:002015-08-11T17:13:37.692-04:00A Series of Thank-Yous: To the Men<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To the men who showed me what it means to be a woman of God by their example, calling me on to do His work, thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To the men who saw their sister in Christ struggling to realize her identity as a daughter of God, thank you for listening and loving me through those difficult times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who walked me back to the door of my dorm at night, come hell or high water, I cannot thank you enough. (And if you trudged through the snow to do so, you probably knocked a few years off Purgatory. I'm sanctifying you.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To the men (and the wonderful women) who showed me how to swing dance, you've changed my life for the better. You have given me a confidence I've never before possessed, and for that I thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To the man who listened to his mother and took me to dinner on that first, difficult night of college, thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the man who emailed me encouragement during my first, tough week of college, that meant more than you realize. Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who courageously stood outside of the abortion clinic, praying for the women and children inside, you are incredible witnesses to life. Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the man who dug through the garbage in search of my lost ID, you set the bar sky-high, and the other men can't keep up. Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men whose witness outside of strip clubs changed hearts, thank you for your strength and bravery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who cleared my dishes after every meal, thank you. A special shoutout to the man who picked up my plate when I was eating alone, and so kindly invited me to sit with you, taking the time to speak with me even though you had finished eating and it was your birthday--you know who you are, and know that I am grateful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who shared or gave up their umbrellas in the rain, my hair thanks you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who gave up their jackets for my freezing self, thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who shocked me with their silent witnesses of Christian life, you rock. Thanks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who put my comfort before their own, you make me feel like a princess. I can't thank you enough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who challenged me to grow as a Christian and a woman, I hated you sometimes, but ultimately God used you to bless me abundantly, and I thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who protect my dignity as a woman, you are true warriors of Christ. Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who inspire me to grow as a woman of God, you probably don't know you're doing so. Just keep doing what you're doing. Thank you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To the men who let Our Lady lead them to her Son, Mamma's boys never seemed so cool. Thanks for being you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To all of those men striving to know and do the Will of God, thank you from the bottom of my heart, a thousand times over. Your sister in Christ wants you to know that you are appreciated and loved. Thank you for being men, not boys, and thank you for caring for God's daughters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This year, the Lord blessed me with the abundant love (agape) and friendship of many holy men and women. This post and <a href="http://onemorecatholic.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-series-of-thank-yous-to-women.html">this one</a> to the women are a series of thank-yous to these faithful friends and strangers who have done the work of the Lord without hesitation. </i></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-60442584440961113702015-07-27T20:55:00.000-04:002015-08-03T10:05:51.007-04:00Choosing God<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">July became my fighting month. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After two months of regularly attending daily Mass, I suddenly found it very difficult to drag myself to church in the mornings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">July was the month during which I would wake up and roll over to see that I needed to leave for Mass in twenty minutes. Then I'd lie there for ten trying to decide if I needed to go. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I fought with myself. I fought against my complacent desire for sleep. Each morning, I had to make the conscious decision to go to Mass. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Every single July morning, I made a choice. I chose between sleep and Mass. I chose between me and God. I chose between complacency and lively faith. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not proud to say that there were a handful of days when I made the wrong choice. I lay in bed, blinking at the ceiling, knowing that I could have gotten up and seen my Lord in the Eucharist. Instead, I selfishly chose to remain home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't be the only Catholic who loves counting the days I've been to daily Mass. There is a satisfaction in knowing I've made it to daily Mass eight or nine or twenty days in a row, an unbroken streak. There is also a great comfort in knowing that, each day, I hiked down to Mass to partake in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God and to make communion with him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I love going to Mass. I encounter in Jesus a love that reverberates with every fiber of my being. On this earth, there is nothing greater than Mass. Heaven and Earth meet within the Mass at the moment of consecration, and there Jesus offers himself to us so that we might receive his Body. As Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati tells us, in the Mass we "[f]</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">eed on this Bread of Angels where you will draw all the energy you need to fight inner battles!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If the Eucharist nourishes us with "all the energy" needed to fight the good fight of the faith--if the Eucharist is a glimpse of Heaven in all its glory--if Jesus himself told us (in <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+6%3A32-33&version=NIV">John 6:33</a>) that his Body gives the life of Heaven to the world--then why would we choose to ignore such a gift? Why would we not run to the Eucharistic feast every time we have the chance?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps your excuses hold water. Mine don't. <i>Well</i>, I'll reason, <i>I need more sleep, </i>or<i> my hair is a mess, </i>or<i> I'll be a minute late if I leave right now. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I never regret going to Mass, but I always regret staying home. Oh, my foolish human self, failing to comprehend the Eucharist! Let us never forget that our God is waiting for us to come to His table. Brothers and sisters, draw near to Him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Sweetest Jesus,<br />Body and Blood most Holy,<br />be the delight and pleasure of my soul,<br />my strength and salvation in all temptations,<br />my joy and peace in every trial,<br />my light and guide in every word and deed,<br />and my final protection in death. Amen.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">-St. Thomas Aquinas</span></i>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-72859203908822062922015-07-21T21:26:00.000-04:002015-08-03T10:04:30.962-04:00Praise for the Steubenville Conferences<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Five years ago, I attended my first Steubenville East youth conference, and God rocked my world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was not yet fourteen, preparing for my freshman year in high school. I had braces and primarily wore brand-name clothing because I thought it looked cool. I looked and felt incredibly awkward, at all times, without exception. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My older sister had invited me to our parish's youth group a few months before. I heard about the Steubenville East conference after a holy hour with the youth group. My youth minister bounded up to the podium and delivered an invitation to a conference for Catholic teens. Having experienced Eucharistic Adoration for the first time that night, I felt compelled to learn as much about the faith as I could, to join this "new" community of young Catholics. So I grabbed the forms for Steubenville East and headed home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I anxiously awaited the conference. As much as I was excited, I had hastily signed up without recognizing that I knew very little about the conference. And I ended up rooming with my older sister (it was her first conference as well) because so few teens my age were attending. In retrospect, I am grateful to have had no expectations for Steubenville East, because I (inadvertently) allowed God to have His way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was shocked to find a stadium full of passionately Catholic teens openly proclaiming their love for the Lord. I drank it in heartily. Each talk, each song, each opportunity to experience the sacraments left me elated and thirsty for more. Saturday night, we all spent two hours in Eucharistic Adoration. The priest processed with the monstrance throughout the stadium so that Jesus could gaze upon us and we could adore him. Moved by Jesus' love, I wept. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honestly, my memory fails me now. I know I promised my life to God at that conference, vowing to follow Him without comprehending the weight of that promise. I know I went home, struggling to reconcile the image of God that I knew real and true with that which the world handed me. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I know I doubted my faith and my experience at Steubenville East and the intentions of those practicing Catholicism. I know the next year's conference was the worst I've attended, because I thought the conferences were to be my only source of strength. And I know that slowly, gently, God began to transform my heart, then my life. I know that high school left me questioning and broken and disappointed and angry but that, through the sacraments, God called me back to His Love time and time again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Five years later, God continues to change my life. I attribute much of my spiritual growth to the Steubenville conferences, especially that first one (although I still don't really know what I'm doing. But sometimes I can fool people into thinking I do). That first encounter planted a seed in my heart which God has lovingly--and patiently--cultivated. Since 2010, I have attended five Steubenville East conferences. Each one had a unique theme (The Word Became Flesh, Rooted, The Eighth Day, Chosen, God Is) and each made a distinct mark on my life. Last fall I began studying at Franciscan University of Steubenville, which has been a wonderful adventure so far. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This past weekend, my three youngest sisters had the opportunity to attend Steubenville East at the University of Massachusetts-Lowell. My heart swelled upon their return as the girls tossed around the Mark Hart books they purchased while relating every detail of the conference schedule. I suppressed the urge to cry, "Did Jesus change your life?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Right now, I rejoice because God called them to the conference. I smile because they feel comfortable sharing the details with me. I wait, because I know that they, too, will have questions soon. And I pray that the Holy Spirit works through me and their youth ministers to lead them to the foot of the Cross. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>O God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy his consolations, through Christ Our Lord. Amen.</i></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-12162397385228033882015-07-14T19:24:00.001-04:002015-08-03T10:04:53.345-04:00Death and Resurrection<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Georgia;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The second reading at Mass a few weeks ago struck me. In the first few lines, <a href="http://www.usccb.org/bible/2corinthians/5:14">St. Paul writes</a>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Brothers and sisters: The love of Christ impels us,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">once we have come to the conviction that one died for all;</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">therefore, all have died.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I heard this read aloud at Mass, my brow furrowed. <i>Ah, yes,</i> I thought. <i>There's that Christian joy we desire. We have all died</i>. However, we know as Christians that Christ has conquered death. Why, then, is it necessary for us to die as well? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You see, we do not die <i>in addition to </i>Christ, but <i>alongside </i>Him, united in His sufferings so that we may be raised from the dead as He was. This is directly related to our participation in the Eucharist. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me elaborate a bit. At a retreat last month, Sister Bethany Madonna of the <a href="http://www.sistersoflife.org/about-the-sisters-of-life">Sisters of Life</a> presented a startling truth: "When God looks upon his son, He sees us in the Body of Christ." How beautiful it is that our Father gazes upon all of us when He looks upon the wounds of His Son! We <i>are</i> Christ's Body. We die and rise with Christ because we participate in Him through our reception of the Eucharist in Holy Communion. (There's a great LifeTeen article on our participation in the Body of Christ <a href="http://lifeteen.com/blog/see-you-in-the-eucharist-no-really/?utm_content=buffer5d7b7&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer">here</a>.) We die and rise with Christ because <i>we make up His Body</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Like Christ, we must die to ourselves to complete the Will of the Father. Like Christ, we must die in order to rise. Like Christ, we may choose to be defeated or to trust in the Lord and bring glory to God from the depths of our death.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A priest recently mentioned to me that at the moment of Jesus' defeat, he accomplished everything. However, Jesus' disciples were left in the dark. They hid in fear, while silently, God battled the devil for them and won. He then emerged from death victorious and alive on Easter morning. At Christ's Resurrection, everyone rejoiced all the more because of the suffering and uncertainty they endured prior. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We aren't God. Many times we will not understand suffering, those little "deaths" God has us endure in order to draw ever-closer to Him (though suffering does not come from God). However, though we may be uncertain as to why God allows us to suffer, we can always know with certainty that we will rise with Christ by the grace of God alone. We are called to emulate the suffering and submission of Christ, not seeking death, but dying as He did nonetheless so that we may have life (see <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john+10%3A10&version=NIV">John 10:10</a>).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Christ's death won our salvation. Called to die with Him, we can participate in His victory. We, too, will rise by the grace of God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And that second reading from Mass ends on a note of Christian hope after all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">[W]hoever is in Christ is a new creation:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the old things have passed away;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">behold, new things have come.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Behold, brothers and sisters, new things have come, for we are dying and rising with Christ. Thanks be to God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find the full reading from St. Paul's 2 Corinthians 5:14-17 <a href="http://www.usccb.org/bible/2corinthians/5:14">here.</a></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">*Please pray for Sr. Bethany Madonna and the other Sisters of Life who, in preparation for making their perpetual vows on August 6th, are on a thirty-day retreat!</span></i></div>
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-29529378351486555802015-07-07T16:08:00.001-04:002015-08-03T10:05:03.994-04:00Not Yet Home<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This is not how it's supposed to be, </i>I thought to myself as I processed the latest unfortunate news, still shaking sleep from my eyes as I plodded down the hallway from my bedroom. </span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is not how it's supposed to be.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Worry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Loss.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Evil.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All of these were not meant for us. Man was not made for destruction. Man was made for life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We all know the unfortunate story: Adam and Eve, our first parents, disobeyed God. Sin entered the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The devil brought death into our world, a world unstained by sin and in which man lived as he was meant to live--in perfect communion with God. Death is not of the Lord; it is of the devil. Satan cannot create life, and therefore, in his jealousy, he seeks to attack it. From <a href="http://www.catholicgentleman.net/2015/06/satan-hates-the-family-heres-why/">The Catholic Gentleman</a>: </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.719;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Only God can truly create. Satan cannot. And Satan hates this fact. He is sterile in every sense of the word. He hates the Trinity because he envies its life giving and creative power...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were not meant to experience death or any of its terrible consequences. We await the day when we will be united with God in Heaven, free from the chains of earthly exile. <i>This is not how it's supposed to be</i>. God longs for us to dwell with Him in Heaven just as we long for His presence. We suffer because Earth is not our home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Man was not made for death, but life. We have died because of sin. There is good news, however. THE Good News. Christ has died so that we may live. Consequently, the only way we can truly live is through Christ. As <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Galatians+2%3A20&version=NIV">St. Paul writes</a>,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">I have been crucified with Christ</span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29102C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29102C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"> and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.</span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29102D" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29102D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"> </span></span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Christian life is paradoxical. We live only by dying to ourselves--sacrificing ourselves completely to the Lord, joyfully accepting His Divine Will. Our hope lies in Him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Still, suffering is inevitable. Good, I say. Suffering makes saints. Jesus affectionately told Saint Faustina, "</span></span><em>You will save more souls through prayer and suffering than will a missionary through his teachings and sermons alone." </em>Although our ultimate goal is Heaven, God gives us the opportunity to dedicate a short lifetime to the salvation of souls. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">[L]ife on earth is not an "ultimate" but a "penultimate" reality; even so, it remains a sacred reality entrusted to us, to be preserved with a sense of responsibility and brought to perfection in love and in the gift of ourselves to God and to our brothers and sisters. -<i>Saint John Paul II, <a href="http://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-ii_enc_25031995_evangelium-vitae.html">Evangelium Vitae</a></i></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We still have work to do. We're not yet home.</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We find ourselves on this earth as in a tempestuous sea, in a desert, in a vale of tears. </i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now then, Mary is the Star of the Sea, the solace of our desert, the light that guides us towards Heaven. </i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-St. John Bosco</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>May the Divine Assistance remain always with us, and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. </i></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4117550104436687993.post-74186390344077650492015-06-23T20:23:00.000-04:002015-08-03T10:05:13.420-04:00A Still, Small Voice <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Georgia;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060652896?ie=UTF8&tag=theende-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0060652896" target="_blank">The Screwtape Letters</a> </i>by C.S. Lewis. It is a fabulously moving commentary on the folly of man, written from the perspective of the Tempter himself. The book is a collection of fictional letters between a senior devil, Screwtape, and his protégé, Wormwood, a young devil. Screwtape advises Wormwood in the ways of the successful tempter.<b> </b>One passage on noise strikes a chord in my heart each time I read it. Screwtape writes to Wormwood:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in that direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Screwtape readily admits that he does little work to tempt man in evil ways, away from God; rather, he simply promotes noise. See, God’s language is silence. His creation grows in silence—flowers, plants, babies in the womb. Jesus, God Incarnate, was conceived in silence; St. Joseph uttered not one word in the gospels. God speaks to our hearts in silence. When we let ourselves be overcome by noise, we distance ourselves from God. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While on retreat with the <a href="http://www.sistersoflife.org/about-the-sisters-of-life" target="_blank">Sisters of Life</a> recently, I was able to spend much of my time in silence. Upon my return home, I found that the noisiness of life felt quite foreign. Listening to the car radio was suddenly awkward, and temporary silences were anything but. Each time I felt the clumsy noisiness of life overcome me, I ran to silence. In the silence was prayer. There, I heard the whisper of God beckoning me to Him. Though I often struggle with my perceived inability to hear God, I recognized His presence, even in—<i>especially</i> in—quiet. Remember the God’s call to Elijah in the first book of Kings? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And he said, “Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:11-13)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Lord could have chosen to appear to Elijah in any number of ways—in fire, like <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus%203" target="_blank">He appeared to Moses in the burning bush</a>, or in thunder and smoke, like <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=exodus+19%3A16-20&version=NABRE" target="_blank">He appeared to the Israelites on Mount Sinai</a>. But the Lord, who orchestrates the control of every medium on earth, chose to come to Elijah in a whisper. God’s silence is so powerful that it drowns out earthquakes, thunder, fire, and wind. Our Lord possesses a thunderous silence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I try (and repeatedly fail) to remain silent on the drive to morning Mass. Or to Eucharistic Adoration. No radio, no snide comments to my sisters, even as few wandering thoughts as possible. Any time I am visiting my God, I want those ten or twenty minutes before our meeting to be a preparation of my heart as a sacrifice to His. When I come to Mass or adoration prepared to receive Him, I give God the chance to penetrate the busyness of my life to cultivate His peace. It is incredibly difficult. We all understand that, as cell phones and television and work and school and giant Catholic families close in on all sides. Yet there is no single element more important to prayer than silence.<span style="color: #3f4140;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"> </span></span>Blessed Teresa of Calcutta advocated tirelessly for silence, calling it "<span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 16px;">necessary so you can hear God everywhere</span>." Screwtape regards noise as a devil’s greatest weapon against God. We must, therefore, do all we can to combat noise. We must preserve silence, for in doing so we preserve God in our hearts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, not even if your whole world seems upset. If you find that you have wandered away from the shelter of God, lead your heart back to Him quietly and simply. —St. Francis de Sales</span></blockquote>
<i>*For more on Blessed Teresa of Calcutta's thoughts on silence and prayer, as well as practical tips for practicing silence, see <a href="http://www.newworldlibrary.com/NewWorldLibraryUnshelved/tabid/767/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/19/Mother-Teresa-on-Silence.aspx#.VYndulxH3Vp" target="_blank">New World Library</a>. </i>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04390382796536646766noreply@blogger.com2