My Heart is Bursting with Joy!

"Oh no," I sighed as I looked at my mom. "I'm starting to feel sick... and the physical pains are worsening. My back and my legs are starting to hurt and cramp up."
"Do you want us to stay home?" she asked.
"No. I'll just take generic Tylenol and an extra water bottle in case I need them. We have to go..."

That's how our trip to a local parish for Mass and confession began. Two months was enough... I needed to go to Mass and confession. I've been feeling physically off for most of this past week -- falling asleep often and having weird physical pains -- but I was determined to go. After reading The Benedict Option by Rod Dreher and starting Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales this week, I felt even more courage than usual to, at least, attempt the drive.

"Let's try for confession and we'll stay for Mass if I feel okay," I told Mom.

We got in line half an hour later than usual and there a couple of people in front of us. The priest was running late and we would only have half an hour before confession time ended. I thought there wouldn't be enough time for all of us to get into the confessional, especially since we were last in line. "It's okay," I reminded myself. "At least I'm here and I'm trying."

As we waited for the priest to show up, the youngest daughter of the woman in front of us (in line) came to my pew (we all sat in pews while we waited) and gave me the biggest smile. She was maybe 2 years old. She would go back to her Mom and would wander around the church with a sibling trailing after her but she came back to my pew with the biggest smile a couple more times before her family left. There was something reflecting from her little face that struck me. It was a sense of overwhelming joy. I even thought to myself "it's almost as I'm seeing God's happiness through her little face; as if He were showing me that He's happy that I'm here."

Since I had a long list of things to confess -- things I had somehow remembered from my years away from the Church; big things that I don't think I ever confessed but needed to from when I was 18-20 years old -- I had everyone in line go before me. Though I knew there was a chance I wouldn't go in but I didn't want them to miss out because of the time I might be in the confessional.

I obviously won't say what I confessed nor what the priest said but let's just say that I wept. I cried because I felt the weight and the shame of my sins and then I cried thinking about God's love and mercy and how I had been forgiven, unworthy as I may be. The priest said something things that I could've easily imagined God saying to me through Him. Fear would be defeated and replaced by courage and trust, both gifts from God.

Though it wasn't our preferred Latin Mass, we still stayed for the Saturday Vigil Mass in case we can't make it to Latin Mass tomorrow. Yes, I'm going to try to go to that Mass as well. Oh, what a gift of tears I was given; I couldn't stop myself from tearing up during Mass. In the middle of the tears, I had an interesting observation and thought pop into my mind. As I looked up at the crucifix at the altar, I noticed how pale crucified Christ looked in comparison to all the other saint statues around the parish. The thought "He looks just like me; pale and weak. Yet it is through our weakness that we find strength" came into my mind, completely unprompted, and it surprised me. It's something I will ponder the rest of this weekend.

Though I wasn't able to receive the Eucharist (the last time I tried a regular gluten host, I was in physical pain for about a week or two; I have to wait to go to Latin Mass where they give low-gluten hosts for Celiacs), I made an act of spiritual communion in the pew while Mom went to receive the Eucharist. Cue more tears. lol.

My heart is bursting with joy! I'm grateful for the chance to go to confession and Mass. I'm grateful for the friends who prayed that I would go to Mass... and prayed that I would make it through both this evening. I'm grateful for the gift of courage that I was given, despite being in actual physical pain as we were leaving the house. I'm grateful that I felt well enough to make it through both confession and Mass, though I felt a bit off in line and then broke out in a sweat that made me feel like I was weak and being slightly suffocated prior to receiving absolution for my sins.

I don't think I'll ever be able to attend Mass or confession the same again. In a weird way, I'm grateful that I didn't go to Mass or confession for those two months because it made me appreciate the beauty of the sacrament and Mass in a way that I had forgotten. I'll never take either of them for granted again.

Anyway, that's it for now. I have a couple more lecture videos and some reviewing to do before I attempt this week's exam. The exam is due on Tuesday but I hope to do it either tonight or tomorrow night so I can finish my research paper (which due on Friday) on time as well. :)

I hope you all have a blessed Laetare Sunday tomorrow (or today if you're in Europe or read this on Sunday). :)

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Forgiving the Worst Offenses Ever Done to Me

It's quite interesting that during World Youth Day -- the theme this year is mercy ("Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy" Mt 5:7) -- I've had to face the two biggest offenses ever done to me. These two things happened during my childhood and have been crosses I've had to bear and work through in therapy (as they have been causes for the development of my anxiety disorder) and were a bit unexpected.

As some of you longtime readers may remember, I've talked about how, when I was a little girl (4 years old or so), I used to be locked in the bathroom by an older half-brother and my sister-in-law for hours while my parents worked. This seems to be the root cause of my fear of being enclosed in small spaces; of being trapped without a way of getting out. I still have the memory of having a little pink chair next to the door, where I sat until I was let out before my parents came home. I was also underfed. I think what finally tipped my parents off (from what I was told) was that they found me standing on top of a stool, over the stove, trying to heat some tortillas to eat because they (bro and SIL) didn't feed me very well. I actually have some fuzzy memories of this; definitely remember when my parents caught me heating tortillas because I was hungry. Again, I was 4 years-old. My guardian angel definitely kept me safe from harm because I could have burnt myself in the process.

This week (Wednesday through Thursday), my brother and SIL came to visit. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle seeing them (I hadn't seen them in years) so I asked my friends to pray for me. I was sure that would need both strength and charity. I wasn't sure if the wounds had been healed and was worried that they hadn't been. I've been working with both therapists and spiritual directors over the years to help forgive and let go but it was never put to the test by having the people who hurt me in front of me after I'd worked through the hurt. I was nervous until they came to visit and then I saw something unexpected: the hurt and anger were gone.

The visit wasn't completely hiccup free. My sister-in-law spoke through my brother in the first couple of minutes they were here (which I thought was a bit rude since my questions were addressed to her) but it quickly went away. I was able to talk to both of them as if I were talking to anyone else. Before they left, they took my car and found me a mechanic to fix the a/c in the car. My brother even paid for part of the repairs, which I was not expecting. I felt so at peace that I hugged my SIL as they left and thanked them for everything. That hug was a release and a wonderful moment for me. I was grateful for the opportunity to put that awful experience (one that triggered a lifetime of fear in me) behind and to know that the wounds had been healed. Later that night, my mother said that my SIL looked and spoke to me in a way that showed that she was ashamed of what she did when I was a little girl. Now it's my turn to pray for her so that she may forgive herself.

The second experience happened today. I'm going to have to be super vague about this one because I'm not ready to open up this part of my life but let's just say it's the one thing that has plagued me for most of my life. It also happened during childhood (shortly after what happened with my bro and SIL) and it also instilled a lot of fear and anger in me. This one, unlike my brother's visit, was a surprise. The person who committed the offense called me and wanted to help get my car fixed since my brother had mentioned it (and given that person my number, apparently.) I told them my car was getting fixed and that I didn't need help. I tried to be as civil as possible and, thankfully, the call didn't last for more than 2-3 minutes.

When we hung up, I called my mom and told her what happened. She told me not to be angry with my brother (I'm not and wasn't then either) because he was only trying to help. I then texted one of my best friends and let it out so I wouldn't bottle anything up. It wasn't until I said everything on my mind that I cried. Hello, gift of tears. Part of the reason for those tears was because it was unexpected and it scared me a little bit. I was unprepared to talk to the person who'd inflicted the most pain on me. The other reason for the tears was (I believe) because I didn't feel the anger I'd felt in the past. In fact, I felt no anger or any of the negative emotions I'd felt in the past. There was actually some confusion because I didn't know what to make of it all and the anger wasn't coming out like it had in the past. I wasn't exactly at peace since the call rattled me a bit, but I had no ill will towards the person. Do I want to talk to or see them again in the future? No. Not because I haven't forgiven them -- I think I've finally gotten to the point where I have forgiven them and have moved forward -- but because, for my own mental health, it would be best that I don't have a constant reminder of the past in front of me. The past is the past and I refuse to let what happened in the past keep me an emotional and psychological prisoner.

I've been following WYD events closely and I had the prayer vigil on the TV when all of this happened today. After I talked to my mom and my friend, I looked up at the TV (watching it on EWTN) and the skit about forgiveness began. Two actors acted out Pope St. John Paul II forgiving his would-be assassin in the jail cell. I began sobbing because, obviously, it hit so close to home. I asked God to help me forgive if I hadn't forgiven them but it felt like I have and I've moved on. I also felt as if this week has happened because God wants to show me that I've moved forward and have healed from those unfortunate events in my life. The tears didn't last long because I began to feel, deep down, that God allowed for these things to happen this week because He's preparing me for a new chapter in my life.

This past summer has been one big deja vu moment. As I've written before, it feels like God is giving me a second chance to do everything with more wisdom, more faith, and more peace. I've already spent a week in and out of the ER like I did the summer I reverted. God has opened my eyes to many things that have hurt my relationship with Him as well as my own well being, including things have been detrimental to me in various ways (physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual, etc).

Just like I did 10 years ago, I've begun the process of cutting out toxic people from my life. My academic (and general) plans have changed quite suddenly. I've learned how to best take care of myself according to my introverted nature. Now I've learned that the biggest wounds in my life have been healed, not through anything I might've done by myself but thanks to His love for me. What a wonderful gift from God on the 10 year anniversary of my reversion.

Again, I feel as if God is allowing me to see that I've matured and I'm ready for whatever new and exciting adventures He has in store for me. While I might've felt weak, unprepared, too fragile, and/or incapable of moving forward in the past, I don't feel that way anymore. Things that I felt kept me from doing anything no longer feel like obstacles. I feel like I now have the tools to unpause my life because, honestly, it feels like I've been completely stagnant for the past decade. Now? I'm all set, I think. I feel like I'm finally doing what I wanted to do in my 20s. All in God's time, right? I hope that everything I've gone through this summer (thus far) means that my time to do everything I've felt called to do will finally happen. I'm ready, Lord.

Anyway, I've written way too much so I'm going to go do something else. Perhaps I'll go clean the apartment while I wait for the mechanic to call about my car. I'm sooo ready for a/c in the car because I've been trapped in the house when temperatures have gotten over 85 degrees... which has been almost all day, every day.

I hope y'all are having a lovely weekend thus far.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

The Baby, the Nun, and the Weird Noise During the Canon of the Mass

I've been wanting to write about my experience at Mass last Saturday night since Saturday night but since I've been busy, I'm writing it now. I don't think I've ever experienced so much joy and so much... weirdness... during one Mass. I guess I'll start with the good, go to the weird, and go back to some goodness.

The Baby
There is a little 3 month old baby girl whose family usually sits in the front pew or in a pew close to us. She's a gorgeous little sweetheart who loves to smile whenever I wave at her... which is often at least twice during Mass because she likes to look around. She just started smiling at strangers (though I've gotten her to smile for me every time I've seen her) so it's the sweetest thing to see during Mass. I don't think she's a distraction as some may think. While I wait to be blessed with children of my own, I am able to look at her and thank God for the gift of life and the blessing her family has received by her birth. She also reminds me of how important it is to teach children to love and venerate the Church from a young age. I sometimes look at her and my heart says "this is what your vocation will be one day", which brings great joy and peace.

The Nun
This past Saturday, we had nuns in the front pews which made this fangirl squee since we've only seen them during the 6:45 a.m. Sunday Mass. I still have trouble distinguishing orders by their habits so I cannot tell you which order they were. They were in their habits, though, and it made me happy. Anyway, while we were in line to receive communion, one of the older nuns saw the baby girl in her mother's arms and she couldn't stop smiling. When the mother noticed, she turned the baby in order for the nun to say "hello" to her... and the reactions were priceless. The baby girl lit up like I'd never seen her before. She was smiling and laughing and was just radiating joy at seeing the nun. Likewise, the nun had a great smile on her face and was herself radiating happiness. It was the most beautiful sight I've seen in a long time.

The Weird Noise During the Canon of the Mass
The weird part came during the Canon of the Mass. My Spiritual Director (who was celebrating the Mass) was reciting the Eucharistic Prayer when, all of a sudden, I heard a woman sort of humming in an almost taunting tone. It sounded like it came from somewhere near the front of the church but I am not sure. Anyway, it was so weird and so inappropriate that Fr. G looked up and around trying to figure out what it came from. If you know my SD, you know how difficult it is to distract him during the Mass so you know it was odd. After Mass I asked mom if she had heard the noise and she said she had but she heard it as if Fr. G had dropped the paten (which he hadn't), not a humming/taunting sound. Either way, it was a weird noise that had at least three of us heard. *shrugs*

Bonus: The Gift of Tears
As most of you know, I had not been able to receive the Eucharist since the first weekend in June because of stomach issues/restricted diet. Since the doctor told me that I do not have a gluten intolerance, I've been counting down the days until I could receive the Eucharist... which finally happened this weekend. I teared up as soon as Mass started... while I was walking down the aisle to receive communion... while I received it (cue: flood of tears of joy)... and while I was kneeling and praying after receiving it. Words cannot express how ecstatic I was. I just cried and I thanked God for everything He'd done for me up to that point. I felt as if my heart could burst from how happy I was in that moment. When I was finally ready to dry my tears, I looked up and saw that the baby girl was looking at me very closely. It was as if in that moment three things became clear. First, that I became aware of just how much I loved God (even more so than I had previously thought). Second, how much I wanted to receive the Eucharist daily. Third, how much I truly believe, in my heart, that my vocation is of wife and mother... and how much I look forward to teaching my future children about the beauty and love of God and the Church.

So, there you have it. It was quite an interesting Mass and I really wanted to share my experience with y'all. :D

And now I need to go to do some research about Catholicism in England for... something. No spoilers just yet. lol.

I hope y'all are having a great week thus far. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D