The Lent of St. Michael Begins Tomorrow

© Pedro A. Guerrero (aka my big brother).

Has anyone heard of the Lent of St. Michael which begins tomorrow (on the Assumption) and ends of the feast of St. Michael Archangel? I hadn't until today when a long-time online friend (who inspires major mama and vocation goals) said she was going to partake in it. As I am a very curious person, I asked her what it was about and she sent me this link.

For the tl;dr crowd: the gist is that this devotion was started by St. Francis of Assisi since he had a special devotion to both Our Lady and St. Michael Archangel. Since there are 40 days (excluding Sundays) between the feast of the Assumption and Sr. Michael's feast, it became like a second Lent. Just like the regular Lenten time, you pray and fast, only this time you do it in honor of Our Lady and St. Michael. During this time you "... are made mindful of the facts of our own resurrection on the Last Day and also of our subsequent Judgment" since St. Michael will be the one who will awaken the dead on the Last Day (Judgment Day).

As I am personally going through some confusing times and am trying to get my spiritual life back on track, I think this will be good for me. I don't know what I'm going to "fast" from quite yet but I still have a couple of hours to think about it. With the state of this country (and, really, the world in general) perhaps some of you will also be interested in partaking in this.

Anyway, just a heads up for y'all. Please let me know if you're going to do it as well. It wouldn't hurt, especially if you feel as if you need a "second chance" like I do.

I have less than two weeks to finish my novel and I still have to flesh it out a bit so... back to work!

I hope you're all having a lovely start of the week!

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

I Have an Angelic Question

St. Michael Archangel Catholic Church in Miguel Auza, Zac. Mexico.
Copyright Pedro Aguilar. That's my big brother to y'all.

The feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael has always been of interest to me. My older brother (who passed away before I was born) would've celebrated his birthday tomorrow. Growing up, Mom used to say that he was a little angel looking out for me since he died when he was 11 months old and therefore had committed no sins. I always remember him and the angels today and tomorrow.

After my father died, the day became more interesting because St. Michael the Archangel was his patron. I think I still have the picture of St. Michael that hung in front of his bed towards the end of his life. The paternal side of family comes from a town named Miguel Auza, Zacatecas in Mexico. (fun fact: I've been able to trace the family lineage to that town as far as the 1700s.) The town was founded today and was originally named after, surprise, St. Michael the Archangel by a Spanish captain. The name was later renamed Miguel Auza during the time of the Cristero War / anti-Catholicism. Still, to this day they celebrate the feast of St. Michael in a big way. I've never personally experienced it (we always visited during the summer) but Dad used to share stories of how gorgeous the celebrations were. I hope to experience this for myself one day.

I've personally had St. Michael (thanks to my dad) and St. Raphael on my prayer intentions call list several times. I love the novena to St. Raphael, which ended yesterday. Of course, having been sick since my reversion a decade ago, St. Raphael is an old chum of mine. ;) I wish I could say that I knew more about St. Gabriel but I don't. I remember him during the first decade of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary but, besides that, I don't go to him for any intercessions. I should look up what he's the patron of.

After my car accident almost a year ago (on October 13; the anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun) made me even more curious about angels and archangels. You'll have to read the blog post for that day to find out why. ;) I've been doing the chaplet of St. Michael Archangel (as well as the prayer to St. Michael) on an almost daily basis for a long time but I haven't really read much about the angels. We sort of touched on it when I was at JP Catholic but it wasn't enough for me. I feel like there's still a lot that I need to learn.

I think there are a lot misconceptions about angels so I really want to learn from legitimate sources... and today seems like a good day to start that research. I already have a small booklet on St. Raphael (which I'll be re-reading today) but I want to learn about angels from a more theological and philosophical POV. Oh, I'm sorry, is my wannabe lay Dominican side showing? ;) Does anyone have any recommendations for websites, books, audiobooks, podcasts, etc which would help me for the research I want to do? Thanks for the suggestions in advance.

Anyway, I just wanted to ask while I took a study break. I don't think I'm going to do anything big for today's feast day (I didn't get a chance to prepare this year) but I know Michaelmas celebrations are a thing and I hope to learn for next year. :D

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

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

The Dreams in Which I Fight Evil; Music Monday

I have nothing productive to write so I'll share the dreams I've been having... because they involve an ongoing fight with the evil one.

I've been having these dreams quite often (they are now averaging twice a week) and it's always the same struggle -- I am fighting with the evil one and the darkness that surrounds him. The person who is with me (or whose prayer helps me) varies but it's mostly St. Benedict of Nursia followed by St. Michael Archangel and the Blessed Virgin Mary. While the dreams are usually different, the basics are always the same: I see a literal darkness wherever I am, I always end up with some kind of light in my hands (this can range from blessed candles, candles in general, or a ray of light that I am holding in my hand), and I fearlessly (dream Emmy is a fighter) go forth and into battle. Sometimes I have a saint's physical presence there with me. In past dreams I've even had the Infant of Prague smile at me, encouraging me to go on, before I tackle whatever it is that I'm fighting. Sometimes it's St. Benedict standing next to me and sometimes it's just a prayer of a saint (like reciting the "Ave Maria") that helps me.

While these dreams aren't strange for me (I've been having saint dreams since my reversion -- many of which you can find on this blog), the frequency hasn't been typical. It's only been over the past month or so that they've been coming with frequency. I don't do anything out of the ordinary. I mean, I pray the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary before bed but I've prayed before bed before. I'm not going to say that there is a supernatural significance to them but I think it's something. Whether that something is my subconscious wrestling with my anxiety, whether it's because I feel like I currently have no clue as to what God wants me to do (call it a post-grad slump), or whether it's actually something I should look into as a sign from God, I don't know. All I know is that I have these dreams... and I often wake up tired from them.

I've been thinking that I need to step up my studying of the faith. I feel like there is still so much I haven't learned or properly explored yet. I was so poorly Catechized that I need to educate myself before I can help other. Maybe that is the reason why I'm having these kinds of dreams; maybe I need to arm myself with knowledge so I can help fight the religious apathy that has a grip on my generation. God knows His plans for me and I welcome them with open arms and an open heart. Anyway, just rambling on for a bit while my anxiety was going loco.

Oh! Since it's Monday, I'll share a song that's really hit close to home lately. I'm still trying to get into Catholic artists (don't shoot me, I'm getting there; hey, at least Hunter Hayes is Catholic and I've been a fan of his for a year now :-P) and Audrey Assad is the first one I've really loved. Her song, "The House You're Building" is one that, I feel, really represents where I am in my life right now... and one that I am sure a lot of young Catholics can relate to. The part that I love is "I'm a broken stone / So lay me down in the house you're building..."



If you want to watch Audrey explaining the inspiration behind the song, watch this video:


Alright, I really should get those two book reviews done. I wish I could say that I had all four but I cannot get The Hobbit done. It's because I've gotten busy with other things... and I am not completely invested in the story so it feels like a chore to read it. In fact, I haven't read it in days... almost a week.

I hope you all have a fantastic week. If you have any prayer requests, please let me know. :D

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

Mean Girls and "Girl World"

When I first watched the movie Mean Girls, I'll admit I laughed out loud. While it may (at first) seem like an exaggerated version of "girl world", I've come to find that not only is it tame compared to the stuff a majority of us women go through (even as adults) but it's actually dead on underneath the humor. Trust me on this, I've lived through MUCH worse thanks to the cattiness and constant "power struggle" within the so-called girl world.

It wasn't until I found myself some really amazing girlfriends (a majority devout Christians of various denominations and Catholics) that I realized that it was possible to never set foot into the scary "girl world" that is alive and well in most parts of the world. So called Queen Bees are truly scary. Heck, I'll be 25 on Sunday and they still scare me. lol. While I can certainly defend myself, I often choose to simply turn the other cheek. It's much easier and more Christian than plotting my revenge against. Plus, I avoid drama like the plague; I absolutely loathe it. Things had been good for me for the past couple of years until someone pulled me (whether she meant to or not) back into the girl world I try so hard to avoid. If you haven't guessed it, a guy is (of course) at the center of this "fight."

I normally don't talk about my romantic relationships because I feel like it's just between the person I'm dating (or interested in) and myself. I'm still not saying much but I feel like this needs to be said because I haven't really seen this discussed in young women's blogs (at least not the Catholic ones.)

Why is it that when two young women are interested in the same guy, there is sudden competition? Not only that, some get downright vindictive if they feel you're threatening to take men's attention from her. Why? I don't get it. It's definitely worse when two girls are after the same guy. Usually they try to "one-up" each other, making themselves seem like the perfect girl to the guy and trashing the other in the process. It's absolutely sickening... and I refuse to ever take part in that sort of thing. If you think Christian women are saved, you are wrong my friends. Some so-called Christian women do things more... how can I say this?... sneakily? Is that even a word? Well, anyway, I've seen these women use theology and Christianity to get ahead in the "competition." Really? Seriously? How low can we go, ladies? Using God to get a guy to like you? Lord help us all! Not only that, the more we get into these "fights" and "competitions" the happier you're making the evil one. Is that what you really want?

Of course I don't think I have to remind y'all that not only is this type of thing just insane but it's actually extremely sinful. I can think of at least one big mortal sin that you commit while doing this. We definitely get tempted to do a lot of really stupid things just to "win" the guy. And, unfortunately, not many stop to think about what they're doing until it's way too late and the drama has erupted into a full on war. I am woman enough to admit that I've often been tempted to also "step up my game" when I've seen a girl trying to win over my crush by force (oh the tactics I can list...) but I've managed to do well thus far.

Like I said in my Friendship and Jealousy post, I firmly believe that what is meant to happen will happen. Lately, I've allowed my "competition" to do as she pleases -- doing things I'd never do to get a guy to like me -- because I know that if it's meant to be it will be. I am not going to stress myself over this. If the guy falls for the tricks he's being played, not my fault. I'm not going to say anything because that's her deal with him. Just like I don't like people butting into my affairs (trying to have a say in the outcome of it just because they can't resist), I am not going to mess with the other girl's deal. To me, it's not worth it. I'm going to be myself and if the guy doesn't realize who I am and what I can bring to the relationship, it's not my fault. I refuse to throw myself at him. I refuse to change myself for him. I refuse to enter "girl world" drama for anything, especially a guy. I'm just going to leave it up to God and, if necessary, ask St. Raymond Nonnatus (patron against gossip) or St. Margaret of Cortona for their intercession because I can only handle so much. If you feel yourself getting tempted by these or any temptations, feel free to ask St. Michael the Archangel, St. Benedict of Nursia, or St. Catherine of Siena for their intercessions -- I have great faith in them, especially since they are some of the patrons against temptations. :)

Alright, my dears, I will now focus on school. I've been wasting too much time online and I think all these happenings are a sign that I should get offline more often and focus on my finals. I think I'm getting to complacent -- I know I can finish all the work quickly so I procrastinate. I will try to update soon but don't be surprised if I don't until after Sunday. It is, after all, a big weekend for me. :D

I hope everyone is well and that all you lovely young ladies are having it easier than I have/am at the moment. :)

As always, thanks for reading and God Bless.

Still Fighting Temptations

This Lent has been HARD for me because I've been fighting all kinds of temptations to do really stupid things. Of course, I think that because it is Lent I am having a really hard time. You-know-who is trying hiss hardest to make me slip, and I almost have a couple of times. I haven't experienced this during Lent... or in a long time, really. I'm usually cautious but I've had really bad urges to do some reckless things. It's very unlike myself. A big reason why I have been trying to focus on my schoolwork (to the point where it consumes a majority of my time) is because it'll distract my mind from wandering elsewhere. I have also been trying to work on the novel and baking different kinds of goods I've never tried to make in attempt to thwart any urges that may come. It's all really frustrating!

I haven't really asked St. Michael the Archangel for many intercessions (just twice, if memory serves me right) but I think I may have to because this is all getting ridiculous. I refuse to let these things alter my life. If anyone can spare a prayer intention, I'd appreciate it. I'm going really nuts here. I can't even imagine how bad my confession this week will be. *shudders*

Anyone else having a hard Lent or am I only one? Maybe there should be some sort of support group during this time of the year -- just to make sure none of us slip in a banana peel placed by the enemy.

Alright, I'm going to try to figure out what to do. :-/

Until next time, thanks for reading and God Bless!

These Darn Temptations

I have been tempted to do a lot of really stupid things lately. I can't even remember the last time I had these kinds of temptations either. The closest thing was probably a couple years ago, which I think I wrote about in one of the earliest blog posts. I am not quite sure how or why I am getting these sort of feelings but I am. It's taking a lot of will power to not give into these things, but I've slipped once or twice. Some of the temptations aren't actually that bad; venial sins at most because I sometimes don't realize what I'm saying or doing until it's too late. Others are really, really, really bad. I can justify them and make them not seem bad but deep down, I know it's really, really, really bad. The kind that both disgust me and make me want to ask St. Michael the Archangel to help me out because I don't want to submit to that kind of temptation. I'm sorry for the vagueness but I don't want to say what some of these temptations are. I will say that some are like little white lies, which I hate because I loathe lying. Other things are little hiccups of not so nice words (not exactly curse words but getting there). Like I said, I'll slip but I immediately feel really bad.

I was just wondering what you guys did when you get tempted to do or say something that is horrible. I don't get tempted to do stupid things that easily (I could give you a list of names of people who've tried to get me to do everything from doing illegal things to throwing away my purity like it was nothing special) but the enemy is really working hard to get me to slip. Is it because it'll amuse the enemy more if I slip during Lent? Is it because I've had a pretty clean slate and can go weeks without confessing anything? I don't know... all I know is that I have got to find a way to get rid of these darn things because they're bugging the living daylights out of me.

Btw, speaking of temptations, please know that if for some reason you slip (and don't do it consciously saying "well, I can confess it this weekend"), you can always ask God for forgiveness and go to confession. There is no better time to go to confession than during Lent. I go weekly (or twice a month) even if all I have to confess is one tiny little venial sin. Priests tell me I'm too hard on myself but I can't help it. I want my conscience clean, okay? lol.

Alright, I should try to get everything done before I can have some free time. Free time... I hardly knew ye. lol. :)

As always, thanks for reading and God Bless.

Saying Goodbye To Dad.

This picture is of dad and I when I was about 4 years old. He was always there when I truly needed him the most.

I know, I haven't posted anything in 2 weeks. If you are following me on twitter, you know why it's taken me this long to post anything new... my father passed away almost two weeks ago, on July 11th. In an ironic twist, dad went downhill (and FAST!) the evening I wrote my last blog post. The words I wrote, "At this point, I just want him to stop suffering" are going to haunt me for a while. It all happened so fast, I don't think I really got a chance to process everything.

That evening, Thursday, July 9, we got a call from the convalescent hospital that his blood pressure had drop to 50 while he was doing his dialysis. It had gone up to 70-something by the end of the night, but it was still very worrisome. I fought with the nurses (with the help of my brother) to have him transported to the E.R. and do whatever they could for him. They were refusing to take him anywhere but we signed a paper saying that they HAD TO take him to the E.R. if he got critically sick so in the end they took him. They also had to find elsewhere to send him because his own doctor refused to see him and said that they should just let him die there. (I had a few choice words to say to the doctor, which I did not say but I thought... and have to go to confessions for.) Later that night, we were told his blood pressure had gone up to the 80s-90s, which made us worry less. We thought he'd be okay.

The next day, Friday, July 10th, I got a call around 10 a.m. that we had to go to the hospital immediately, that my father would not make it through the night. He was in the ICU. We had to go sign paperwork and get everything done quickly. Dad was still conscious and he was able to get a couple of things signed to make sure all loose ends were tied. We didn't tell him that he was dying; we just told him that it would be better to have things in order in case we needed to fix 'em while he was at the hospital. At that point, I still thought he was going to pull through. He was looking good and he was still up for joking around with me... though I did have to leave twice so he wouldn't see me cry. We were told to go home at 8 p.m. and I told them to contact us if anything happened.

The next morning, Saturday, July 11th, we were happy that they hadn't called us. We thought, "hey, maybe they are wrong again... like they were last month." At 8:34 a.m. I got on my cell phone... we had to go in THAT MINUTE because dad was in his final moments. Luckily we only live 10 minutes from the hospital AND my cousin had stayed overnight with us so we were able to get there right away. We got there and we could see that dad was in his final moments. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever gone through in the 24 years I've been alive. He couldn't breathe (his breaths were VERY labored and forced). He could understand what we were saying but he couldn't speak... or even move. Mom lost it and dad began to get agitated by the sounds of her crying. I had to ask my mom to let me stay at his side because I am able to hold in my tears a bit more. I would go to the side he was facing (his eyes half opened) and I would say "Just relax daddy, it's okay. I am not going anywhere. They're going to have to drag me away, kicking and screaming, if they want me to move." That seemed to calm him down and he began to concentrate on his breathing. Mom would again come to his side and again would start to sob, upsetting dad. I would ask her to go to his other side until she calmed down a bit and she eventually did. I stayed in dad's room the entire hour and a half we were there. My niece, Adriana, was the only other person in the room when dad was giving his final breaths. As soon as I began to see that the charts were reading "zero" I had her rush to get my mom. who'd stepped out.

I was at dad's side when he passed away. At that point, I couldn't hold in the tears anymore and I sobbed as I said my final goodbyes. I asked him to forgive me if I ever did anything that upset him, and told him that I knew he would forgive me if he could say it. I told him not to worry about mom and I, that we were going to be there for each other. I promised I would finish school (at least a B.A.) and do all he wanted me to achieve. I promised to become a woman he would be proud of. I read him Psalm 23, his favorite. I asked St. Joseph to please help dad go as peacefully as he could. I asked St. Michael Archangel (dad's patron saint) to protect him in his final moments. Mom came in literally 5 seconds before dad passed away. He gave his final breath and then went to sleep. My prayers had been answered; he went, as peacefully as possible, at 10:15 a.m... on St. Benedict of Nursia's feast day (he's a patron saint of those who are dying). Both of my Rosaries also broke at that time... which means I have no Rosary at the moment; I have to use the virtual one on my iPod touch.

I won't lie and say that I didn't fall apart at that moment; I did. I nearly fainted. I had to be rushed to the seat and given water. The entire right side of my body went numb. I was dizzy and lightheaded and barely managed to ask for rubbing alcohol or smelling salts in case I did faint. I sobbed when I was able to control my panic/anxiety attack. We stayed at the hospital until 5 p.m. when they transferred him to the morgue. My brothers and sister, along with cousins and my uncle (the eldest of the family), arrived shortly before dad was taken. Hearing my brothers break down and cry was the third hardest thing I've ever experienced (first being dad's death, second being my mom falling apart in front of my eyes). I was the last person in the family to see dad before yesterday's funeral. (Side note: before I go on, let me mention that as soon as we got home from the hospital and I sat down, I smelled one of Beckham's colognes -- the last gift I ever gave dad -- coming down on me. I knew that it was my dad's way of letting me know he was still with me since I associated that scent with dad... and because Beckham was one of dad's favorite soccer players. Mom couldn't smell the cologne... and I later couldn't smell the roses she said she smelled after reading the Bible.)

The next week was heck on earth for me. I ended up getting VERY sick (pharyngitis) and was stuck in bed for most of the week. My temperature went up to 104 on Wednesday (the 15th) and it was a miracle I didn't feel as horrible as I was. The fever was around 101-103 for the next couple of days. It was another miracle that I didn't get a panic attack, because I usually do when I get that sick. I wasn't the only one. Mom ended up getting bronchitis and nearly got pneumonia. She, along with my niece Adriana, and I were the first to get sick... and the only family members in the room when dad died. From there, one of my brothers (the one who sobbed the most) ended up getting very sick. Those who took dad's death the hardest were the ones who got very sick and were in bed for nearly a week. We're all okay now, except for the grandson of one of my cousins, who's still at the L.A. Children's Hospital with pneumonia. (btw, please pray for him. He's 6 years old but he was born blind and mute, and a bunch of other complications.) All the rest of us have are stubborn coughs that won't go away.

Yesterday was dad's funeral - the final goodbye. I was worried that I wouldn't have anyone there for me since it was during the week and everyone had plans. Luckily one of my best friends was able to change her work schedule and she came with her family. Seeing dad's coffin getting loaded out of the hearse made me cry. To think that it was the last time I would see him, physically, was painful. We had a Rosary said for him before his Mass. During the Mass, my brothers, sister, and I helped. My nephew and I (the youngest family members there) stood at either side of the casket as we Mass ended. Then we took him to his final resting place -- the San Fernando Mission Cemetery, right behind the San Fernando Mission. Thank God, and Fr. Leo, that we were able to bury him there and that the L.A. Archdiocese was able to help us with the costs. I thought it was fitting for someone who'd expressed how much he loved his faith up to his final days.

I thank God for helping me get the strength I needed to get through it all. I am grateful that my friend Eileen was there with me, with her arm around me, as dad was lowered and was buried. That was hard for me to watch and I'm just glad I didn't faint. I am also grateful to everyone who was there for us, physically and through prayer. I'm truly amazed at how much more strength I found within myself. I just hope it resurfaces when I need it.

Although I know that it isn't a final goodbye to dad, it still makes me very emotional. Y'all would be surprised with how sensitive I actually am. I feel things quite deeply. My comfort is knowing that dad is no longer suffering - which he did the last 7 years of his life due to the cancer. I know that there will be moments when I will miss him the most. I know that I'm going to be an emotional wreck if/when I get married because I won't have him to walk me down the aisle... my future husband (whoever he is) won't have the chance to ask him for his permission to marry me and my future children won't get to experience what a warm, loving, generous man their grandfather was. But I know that dad will be there with me, in spirit, through every milestone I will reach for the rest of my life. I also know that one dad we'll be reunited in heaven... especially if it's anything like that dream I had over a year ago. And, if anything, this will only bring me closer to my faith (if that's even possible.)

I get asked often if I curse God for taking my father away from me. The answer is a big NO! In fact, I still attended Mass the day after dad died and the only Mass I missed was last Sunday's when I was still quite sick. As I said in the previous entry, I am grateful for everything God has given me... including a father that, for 24 years, loved me more than words can describe. I am grateful that I was given a father that was there for me through everything. Yes, we had our disagreements and we did not have an easy relationship, but I wouldn't have traded any of those experiences for anything or anyone in the world. And, my father gave me the greatest gift I've ever received... coming back to the Church after 40+ years of being away only a day before my 24th birthday. Thank you, Lord, for giving me a man whom I loved and respected to the very end... a man who taught me so much, including to always put others before myself and to be as generous as I can be. As I promised dad, I also promise God, I will grow up (I still feel like I'm growing up) to be a woman that both my heavenly Father and my earthly father would be proud of. And with that, I am ending my blog.

I hope that I was able to express myself as well as I could. I had a ton of gushing to do on dad, but I will leave that for something else I'm working on. :) I hope to continue blogging regularly for the rest of the summer, especially now that I've got a lot of time on my hands. I do plan on going abroad soon... and I'm taking mom with me for her first trip to Europe. I'll keep y'all updated on that. :)

Thank you all for your prayers... for dad, for the family, etc. Y'all are amazing people. :) As always, thanks for reading and God Bless!

It's (Spiritual) War!

If you are following me on twitter, then you probably saw my angry tweets about disrespected in my own home, a couple of hours ago. Many of you had no idea what I was writing about, so I'll tell you. I engaged in somewhat of a spiritual war.

So what exactly happened? Well, it all started when a friend of my mother's mentioned that there were these people, who were not Catholic, who would want to pray for my father in hopes that he gets better. I had no problem with it because, though they aren't of the same religion, who am I to say "No, you can't pray for my father because you're not Catholic."? That would be dumb. If you want to pray, pray. I have friends who are Jewish, Baptists, Protestants, agnostic, etc. and I pray for them, especially when they ask me to. I have no issues with other religions... as long as the people don't trash mine. So, I cleaned up the house and was determined to be a good host. I was in a great mood... until the house guests arrived.

From the minute they set foot in the house, I had a really bad feeling. I tried to shake it off and was cordial when I greeted them. It all started off good, I didn't even say anything when they brought out their Bibles and started "preaching" to us. I am secure enough in my faith that I can listen to others without betraying my own beliefs. Then one of the men started talking about how much he loved his Catholic "brethren" but how we were all misguided and how our religion was a bunch of trash because we "don't really know what the Bible says" and because we "don't know what God's true purpose is for us or for Himself." Evangelist say WHAT?! He had the audacity to come into a Catholic household (and he knew it was Catholic coming in) and then trash our religion. The guy did it to our faces, especially mine, too. Are you flippin' kidding me? If I didn't have self-control and if I wasn't trying, really hard, to continue acting like a lady, I would've given the guy a piece of my mind. So I just stayed quiet, though tweeting at this time, out of respect for my parents. Then he asked my father if he accepted Jesus Christ into his life. My dad, trying to be polite, just nodded. I could understand his apprehension, being Catholic. Then the other guy, his son, started talking about how we were going to hell if we did not accept Jesus in our lives -- according to their beliefs. He used me as an example of someone not accepting God in my life, and therefore, if I'm in a car accident, I won't be saved and I'll be spending eternity in hell. "Oh HECK no!!!!" I thought to myself. That's when the really heavy feeling I had in my chest felt unbearable.

They made my father cry... which made my mother cry. I did not cry. I was too angry to feel anything else. I went off to my room where I thought I was going to have a full blown panic attack. I didn't, thank goodness, but it certainly felt that way. As I said when I started re-telling the ordeal, I had a bad feeling as soon as they got there and that bad feeling felt more and more like a giant elephant was sitting on my chest... and had started to gain weight. I began to pray. That's what I do when I feel angry. I'm usually very mellow and I take things very well but these people pushed all the wrong buttons. It was like the whole situation where my classmate called God a *bleep* in English Lit last Fall semester -- times ten. These guys are lucky that I hate drama, and that I don't want to disrespect my parents by being rude to their guests, 'cause "feisty Emmy" would've come out and I'm very blunt when I'm that upset. I would've used my words carefully but I would've verbally kicked their butts out of my house.

So, as I said, I went into my room, closed the door and began to pray. Mom came into the room twice but I purposely kept myself in prayer because I didn't want to snap at anyone, especially my own mother. The second time she came in, I was kneeling down, under a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe (the same one that's been with me since I was a little girl) and I was saying "Please, help me calm down. If these people mean no harm, please make me understand that." I guess my mom mentioned that I was praying, and was in the middle of an "Our Father", when the guy apparently took my parents and started praying over them. And it wasn't quiet... it was yelling. He was screaming, probably at my mother, to hold on to him and to not let go of him or God... blah, blah, blah. Look, I appreciate you wanting to pray for my daddy but you will NOT disrespect me in my own home, and then yell at the top of your lungs about how my father's illness should get out of his body (and something about burning)... etc, while I'm trying to pray. Grrr. I started getting dressed up, while still saying "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" out loud, trying to drown out the man's yelling, and got ready to leave as soon as they were done. I had the strongest desire to get out of the house asap. I felt like I was trapped. It was horrible. I began asking St. Benedict of Nursia and St. Michael Archangel to get these people out of my house if what they were doing was not good. Soon after that, I heard them starting to leave. After I got upset at my mother for coming into my room and taking money TO PAY THEM, I grabbed my things and I left, telling my parents that I was going out and that I would be coming back "in a little while."

I walked (according to google maps) 0.9 miles, in a rush, to the nearest Catholic Church. I love walking (seriously, just call me Elizabeth Bennett) and I figured that it would help me clear my mind and lower down the unhappy camper feeling I had. I don't like being angry. I loathe it as as I hate lying. Just, ugh. When I got to the parish, I was feeling a bit better. I went to confession and talked to Fr. Peter for a little bit. That alone made me feel a million times better. I prayed a bit before coming back home, and walked that 0.9 miles back home. Though the people are gone, my parents are not happy with me AND there's a weird tension in the house which stinks. These people offended me, made my parents cry, did things short of trying to convert us to their religion, AND left a mess in the house. My feelings are being hurt but, eh, I'm used to that so I can deal with it. Not being able to have the same dynamics with my parents... that I have an issue with. I pray that all the weirdness disappears soon.

After all the effort I've done for my dad... helping him come back to the Church, asking Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati for his intercession, countless prayers and Rosaries said for my dad during his most difficult moments, etc... having him feel angry at me for not being happy about what happened with those people, and not accepting what they did to him, feels like a giant slap in my face. I'm sure that's not correct but that's what I feel. Regardless, I will continue to pray for my dad and do everything I can for him... because he's my dad and, no matter how crummy he treats me, I love him and I want him to feel better. And, considering that he is NOT going to get chemotherapy, he's going to stick it out and let the Lord take him when He wants, I'm going to have to put all differences aside.

If this all seemed like one big rant, I'm sorry. I was just trying to explain things fully to those of you who asked me what was going on. I hope now you understand why I felt the way I did.

I promise that the next blog will be much chipper and less "arghdghjg". :D I'm blessed with the ability to forgive and forget quite easily... and it's rare when I'm upset for longer than a little while. :) Thanks to all those who prayed for my during this "spiritual war" I had going on.

As always, thanks for reading and God Bless. :)

Scary Dream, Catholic Podcasts, and Let the Planning Begin!

Honestly, not much went on today. I had a finance meeting (oh yeah, I'm getting into taking care of business) which went alright. I'm a bit worried about money issues because my family's been living paycheck-to-paycheck lately and I have to take care of some big expenses. Chaotic but it's good for me to start dealing with these things again because it makes me feel like I did before I got sick. YAY!

One not so good thing -- I had one of the scariest dreams this morning. I woke up saying "Ave Maria Purisima" which roughly means to "Hail Mary, the Purest" in Spanish. It's something one says, in Mexican culture at least, when you get a sense of something evil. My dream was pretty intense, I was actually fighting with the devil (which isn't the first time I've dreamt it) because he was tempting to into doing something completely immoral but my will was too strong for him. Then I felt this strong wind trying to pull me into darkest. As soon as that happened, I started naming saints to help me. I started calling "St. Teresa of Avila... St. Jude Thaddeus... St. Michael Archangel... St. Raphael Archangel..." as soon as I remembered to call on Our Blessed Mother, I woke up... and said Ave Maria Purisima. It's completely scary. Every time I've had dreams that I'm fighting against evil, I've always won... like that time my house was surrounded by darkness and I took a white stone/light in my hands and make the darkness disappear. I believe I wrote an entry about that a few months back. Still, it's scary to dream and I will definitely talk to a priest about this.

Moving onto something nicer... I've been catching up on this awesome Catholic podcast called The Hands and Feet Show. I love that the show is VERY relatable to young people -- especially us in our late teens and 20s. They aren't afraid to tackle any issues, no matter how taboo or controversial, while keeping everything faith related. I definitely recommend it to anyone who doesn't shy away from any topic. You can check them out here (http://sqpn.com/category/talkshows/hands-and-feet/) They're part of SQPN which has a slew of awesome Catholic Podcasts. Definitely recommend all of 'em -- all of Fr. Roderick's podcasts, Rosary Army, the Saint Cast, etc. And, speaking of Fr. Roderick, he's in Rome this week and he's already done a podcast there. It sounds like Rome would be my kind of place... as soon as I get over my anxiety.

We've got it all planned -- as soon as my therapist gives me the thumbs up for traveling to big, crowded cities (that I haven't been to before), I'm visiting them. :D I already have my list of cities (mostly in Europe)... and, to be honest, it's more of me checking them out because I fully intend on living out there in about a year or so. Well, in France or another country in Europe. The idea of living in France popped into my head a few weeks ago. I already understand and speak a tiny bit of French so I need to really learn the basics but otherwise, I'm intrigued. I also heard that someone that doesn't completely repulse me (which is my way of saying "you rock, you big nerd!" hahahaha!) wanted to go and live there I thought "Dude, then let's go!" We always seem to want to end up in the same place at the same time without telling each other. I'm always surprised and think he's reading my mind. If it's not being in New York at the same time (we're both kinda tired and done with NYC now), it's being somewhere else. So, now I'm going to plan -- for myself -- to move out to one of the cities on my list and I won't tell anyone until I'm there... and we'll see what happens. I'm excited though. The planning aspect is awesome. It does mean I will have to learn about 4 different languages ('cause I haven't decided where I want to go) but I'm excited! The travel bug has bitten me again. YES! lol.

Alright, well, I have pretty exhausted -- don't know why -- so it's about time I call it a day. As usual, thanks for reading and God Bless.
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