The Demolition Continues: Forgiveness Edition

Within a minute of getting home, I knew what I had to do: hole myself up in my room until he left. It was the safest option after such a shock. 

The feelings? Surprise, anxiety, and (eventually) anger and resentment.

The cause? Someone from my past (who I had avoided seeing at all costs) having the guts to show up at my home, unannounced, after more than a decade of having no communication with him. Oh, and anger at a neighbor who didn't know the situation and called him back (as he was nearly out of the front gate) when she saw me arriving home. She apologized afterward when she was made aware of why this person is not welcomed at my home.

I hate surprises, especially unpleasant ones. Yet, there I found myself, texting friends and asking them to pray that this person would leave my apartment as quickly as possible. I didn't leave my bedroom until I felt it was safe to do so, leaving my poor mother to do all the entertaining. I couldn't fake cordiality. I felt robbed of my peace and I was angry. Seething angry. It takes a lot for me to get that angry but, goodness, I was.

I won't go into too many details about who he was or what he did but let's just say he caused a lot of damage to not only me but my relationship with my father. It was due to his untruths that my father and I had a strained relationship for a long time; one that remained so until this person was caught in his own lies and my father redirected his anger towards him. After my father's death, he tried to do more damage with untruths but, again, he was caught and that severed any hopes of a relationship.

I honestly thought I had forgiven him over the years; that I no longer held any resentment towards him... until he showed up. He knew I didn't want to see him. My brothers had warned him, repeatedly, over the years. His calls went unanswered for years. Yet, he chose to show up and, basically, try to force me to see and talk to him. Nope. Sorry, buddy. Not happening. I guess I hadn't forgiven him after all.

I don't want to hold grudges against anyone. I want to be able to forgive people. I thought I had forgiven everyone who had hurt me... with the exception of the person who hurt me the most, recently. But that wound is still fresh so it'll take me some time to be able to not flinch when someone mentions them. Still, God has shown me that I haven't forgiven the person who showed up at my home... and that I need to. After all, no one can get to Heaven if they're unforgiving of someone who has done them wrong and I sincerely want to spend all eternity with God in Heaven.

I know it won't be easy. I can see (now that the anger has subsided) that God will use this situation to help me move towards forgiveness. I want to forgive him -- and, God willing, I will -- but I'm going to need a lot of help to do so. Enter: me pleading with God for the grace to do so because I can't on my own.

I was telling my mom (after he left) that I feel like I can forgive him... if I never have to see him again. It sounds so petty and uncharitable but I feel like it would be easier for me to be able to forgive him if I never saw him again. I don't want a relationship with him because of the damage he inflicted on my father and I. I also don't trust him to be honest and I cannot have any type of relationship with someone I don't trust. No, it would be best if I can work on forgiving him without having any contact with him again. 

Before you ask why I thought it was best for me to stay in my room: it was the most charitable thing I could do at that moment. I could've either stayed in my room (which I did) or I could've been incredibly rude because (as any of my friends will attest) I cannot fake what I'm feeling. You can just see what I'm thinking and feeling on my face. 

And, yes, I know that I failed at the Benedictine pillar of being hospitable but I was more concerned with my emotional and mental wellbeing at that moment. Imagine seeing someone who had caused a lot of hurt over the years after more than a decade of having nothing to do with them; after their being told you wanted nothing to do with them and their decision to still try it. Not very pleasant, friends. Thankfully, I had the excuse that I had a deadline and an article to write to make it slightly less rude. It was the truth. I had been planning on getting straight to work after Mass and an errand I needed to take my mom on since the previous night. I did excuse myself -- busying myself, writing the latest article while I waited for him to leave -- so, at least, I was able to speak the (non-angry) truth and not be a total jerk to him.

The kicker is that this all happened on the same day that a Mass was offered for me at my home parish. The Mass, which was requested by an anonymous person, was offered for my health and happiness. Yes, those exact words. And. yes, we attended said Mass. I even found a St. Philomena prayer placard someone had left for parishioners to take before we left, which I got excited over. I'm going to take a guess that it was St. Philomena's way of reminding me of both my vocation discernment and of her help if anything big (like this) happens. 

Hmm, this all happened roughly two hours after the Mass had ended. I don't blame God for it (nor am I angry with Him; no reason to be)... but I don't think it's a coincidence either. Remember the last post in which I said that my heart is yearning to belong solely to God? Perhaps, this is yet another thing I must work on; forgiving others so that my heart can belong more fully to Him. It would make sense. How can I love him if I can't love my worst enemy (and this person is as close as one gets to being considered an enemy of mine)?

I guess the demolition continues. As awful as it was (and it took me hours -- and about half of a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle solved -- afterward for me to feel calm again), I know God will use it for my own benefit. So, let's keep going, God. If You need to keep tearing me down and make me confront unpleasant things so that I can become the woman You want me to be, I won't fight it. I might grumble at first (as it is still the knee-jerk reaction) but I'll accept it and try to learn from it. Your will, not mine.

I'm not sure how long it'll take me to forgive this person but I'm going to try hard. I'm going to take this to prayer and have many, many conversations with God during my time in front of the tabernacle and Blessed Sacrament. I'm going to ask our Blessed Mother and St. Philomena for their help as well. I'm going to do all I can and ask God to help me because I need a boatload of grace to help me reach that goal of forgiveness. After all, anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die; it's just not good for the soul.

Anyway, just another little hiccup that I wanted to share on this journey. Maybe it'll help someone... or have someone share any tips that might've helped them if they were in the same boat. 

Please say a prayer for me as I begin to try to forgive and heal from this massive wound I didn't know I still had.

I hope y'all are having a good week thus far.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless!

P.S. Thank you for the prayers for Mom and I over the weekend. Two major decisions were made after it was clear that they were the best options and we will be acting on them as soon we're able to. 

Dear Dad...

Dear Dad,

How is it possible that you've been gone for 10 years?! I'm writing this a day early since I'll be traveling on your actual anniversary. I had hoped to spend the morning at your grave but I can't put off the trip.

Where to start? I can't seem to find the words to say to you. There so much I wish I could say, but it all fails to come close to what I wish I could express. I guess I'll try.

First, I want to say "thank you." Thank you for everything you did for me.

Thank you for taking care of me for the first 23 years of my life. I know I ended up helping take care of you in the end but you did so much for me. Taking care of you during the last years (and especially months) of your life was an honor.

Thank you for all those sacrifices you made for me. As a young, selfish girl I didn't understand but as a grown woman I appreciate them immensely.

Thank you for teaching me to work hard for what I want and to not stay down when I've been knocked down. You taught me never to give up, no matter how bad things seem. You also taught me to look outside the box for creative solutions when I can and that's saved me several times.

Thank you for showing me what it was to be loved and respected. You were the first person to show me what it meant to be loved unconditionally. You taught me to respect not only myself but others as well.

Thank you for your last words to me: that you trusted my judgment. I can still remember when you told Pedro that you trusted my judgment. I hope I've made you proud thus far.

Thank you for teaching me my own worth; to not settle for anything less than I deserved. Not in a manner that would make my haughty, but in a way that gave me confidence and self-respect.

Thank you for the memories you left behind, which are priceless. I can't remember what your voice sounded like. I barely remember the arguments we had. I do, however, remember all the good times. I will have random memories that will pop up when I least expect them and they make me smile.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me graduate from college... and having gone after two additional degrees after that. I know just how important my education was to you. If people only knew how much you sacrificed to make sure I had the education you wish you'd had yourself.

I'm sorry you missed witnessing me getting my driver's license and learning how to fix basic car things. It sounds like a silly little thing to others but they don't know how much you loved cars, especially fixing them. Oh, and thank you for teaching me how to parallel park like a boss.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me become a published author and start a career as a writer. I bet you wouldn't have been surprised because I was always writing; notebook and pen almost always in my hand from the moment I could write.

I'm sorry you missed seeing me grow into my woman I've become in the last 10 years. I like to think you'd be proud of the decisions I've made in my life so far. I bet you would've been surprised I became an Oblate novice. Or maybe not. Me making that solo trip would have surprised you, though.

I'm sorry you'll miss seeing me get married one day. I still have that chapel veil you got me a few months before you passed. I'm saving it for that special day. I hope my future husband will be the man you would've approved of; the man you would've gladly given your blessing to. (side note: don't worry, I'm sure Pedro will interrogate him in the future, lol.)

I'm sorry you'll miss meeting any children God may bless me with. I know how much you loved children -- and how fitting it was that you were buried only a few feet from the area set aside for burials of babies. They'll only hear about the wonderful memories I have of their maternal grandfather.

I'm sorry you'll miss all other milestones I've yet to envision; things God will surprise me with. I know you would've been with me through them all if you could've been.

Mom said you were worried about leaving me; about not being around when I needed you. I still have moments when I do miss you terribly; when I feel like I do need you. I break down in tears because you were the only one who made certain situations better. But then I remember what you taught me. You taught me to have courage; to be strong. You did that! You gave me the confidence in myself and the fiery stubbornness that makes me muster up all the courage I have to face obstacles as fearlessly as I can.

I hope I continue to grow into the person you would've proudly introduced as your little girl (no matter how old I am). Everyone says that I've grown up to be just like grandma -- your own mom! Okay, so I'm like 8 inches taller than she was and I didn't inherit her blue-grey eyes but still! I bet you would've loved to have seen me become more like her because you loved her so much.

I hope I become the kind of mother that reflects the kind of love she experienced from her father; the kind that, when she's gone, her children will have nothing but beautiful memories of.

I hope and pray that you're in Heaven, forever in the presence of our Heavenly Father, because I cannot imagine a better eternity for anyone especially a wonderful, loving father like you.

What else is there to say?

Thank you.

I miss you.

I love you.

I hope we're one day reunited in Heaven.

Sincerely,
Meli

Sometimes a Girl Needs Her Dad...

I saw the cemetery as I was driving home from where I had a meeting this morning. I wasn't planning on stopping... but something nudged me to make a detour. Without thinking twice, I pushed the turn signal down and went in through the cemetery gates.

Now, before any of you think this is a weird start to the post -- especially those of you who are new to this blog -- let me explain something: this is the cemetery where my father is buried. He died a little over 9 years ago from colon cancer that eventually metastasized and spread to other vital organs. I will occasionally go visit him on my own but I usually go with my mom... and it's almost always planned.

I knew, driving to the spot near where he's buried, that there was something greater at work with my split-second decision. I've driven by the cemetery (only a couple of miles from where we live) several times recently and I always do the Sign of the Cross but I haven't stopped by. Today, I just knew I couldn't do that.

The cemetery was empty. I was very well aware of that as I drove through the cemetery and even more so as I was walking to Dad's grave. There is a somber peace about an empty cemetery. It will make you really have a Memento Mori moment.

I'll admit that I started crying before I even made it to my father's grave. The second I reached it, I broke down in a full-blown sob.

I was always very much a "daddy's girl." When I was growing up, it was just my daddy and I. My mother always worked during the day and he worked the graveyard shift so I spent most of my waking hours with him. Whenever he would grab his car keys, I would grab my dolls and get ready to leave with him. Sure, there were (naturally) a couple of tense years during my teens and even more so when I reverted to the Faith, but I always loved my dad. He was overprotective and strict but I know he was that way because he wanted to protect me.

Lately, I've been feeling overwhelmed and stressed out about circumstances beyond my control. It's when I feel this way that I miss him the most. He always made me feel better; always made me feel loved. So when I reached his grave, the first words out of my mouth were, "Daddy, I miss you... and I'm feeling overwhelmed."

Logically, I knew that he wasn't physically there. Yes, what's left of his earthly body may still be there but I know his soul is elsewhere. Still, I had a "chat" with him because sometimes a girl just needs her dad. I unburdened my heart and my troubles. I know that, wherever he is, he knows exactly what I'm talking about; that he might've had similar experiences with the same person who has been causing a lot of problems in my life now.

I sobbed the entire time I was there. I asked that, if he was already in Heaven, he pray for me. I prayed for his soul and promised to return to his grave soon. I like to decorate his grave marker with marigolds so I'll be back to do it next week. I walked away, feeling both lighter and also very sad.

I don't think I will ever "get over" his death. He was the first person who told me I was worthy of respect; that I was worth being loved. He fought hard and sacrificed to make sure I got a good education. Though he used to grumble and we used to argue about my wanting to go to Mass and confession frequently -- he was away from the Church for 40+ years before his reversion a few months before he passed -- he made sure I was in a better place, spiritually, than he was.

All of this also made me reflect on how I also still have my Heavenly Father. I usually go to our Blessed Mother when I find myself in tears but I know I can go to God and talk to Him. I have, but not for a long time. Perhaps I should carve out some time in my crazy busy schedule and just have a chat with Him as well.

Sometimes a girl needs her Dad... and I'm so blessed and fortunate to have had an earthly one that taught me my own worth and showed me so much love in the first 24 years of my life... and a heavenly One Who has always shown me so much love throughout my life, even when I haven't been at my best.

Anyway, just some ponderings since I had little free time today. :)

I hope you all had a lovely weekend!

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

Oh! Hi, 1000th Blog Post!

Hello and welcome to my 1,000th blog post.

"Whaaaat?" That was my reaction when I posted the last blog post and saw that it was the last one in the triple digits. I can't believe I've written a thousand posts in the span of 9 years and (almost) 5 months. Crazy! Honestly, I can't believe I've kept this blog this long. I thought I would keep it for a couple of months or no more than maybe 2 years, tops but, here I am... still writing.

Those who've been reading this blog since the beginning (or, at least, within the first year of its inception), have gone through so much growth with me. When I started this blog, I was involved with someone whom I still in keep in touch with on occasion but is no longer one of the most important people in my life. I haven't really talked about my personal life since and have vowed not to until there's a wedding looming.

You've read about my struggles as an undergraduate, as a graduate student, and now in my academic limbo state. You've read about what I suffered when I was at the CINO college (now university) -- how much the professors made me cry for having an orthodox and "traditional" view of Catholicism. You've read my indecision about what to study; where to study.

You've been with me through my father's final cancer diagnosis... through the last months of his life... through his reversion to the faith (his 24th birthday present to me) two months before his death... through his death and burial... and through that first year in which I was emotionally numb...

You've been with me through illnesses and financial difficulties... through my lowest points... through my car accident... through my bouts of spiritual dryness (which I am currently undergoing again)... the craziness that was most of my 20s (I started this blog when I was 22!) into my early 30s (I turn 32 at the end of this month)...

You've also seen me at my best. You've read the joy it was to graduate from college after years of putting it off to help take care of my father (or myself)... the first time I was published in a Catholic publication... when I started my freelance writing career... when my first (and second) novel was published... when I was accepted to all three of my top graduate program choices...

We're going on 9 and a half years of this adventure together. Some of you have been reading since the beginning. Some of you have joined later on. Some of you are still new to this blog. It doesn't matter when you started following, you're still a part of this journey with me.

I still don't understand why anyone would want to read what I have to write. I'm no one extraordinary. I'm actually quite boring. I'm just your average gal who decided, on Christmas Day 2007, to write about her life and her journey through learning about Catholicism. I'm still learning. I'm actually going through sort of re-reversion period right now. I promise to explain this, and thoroughly, at some point in the future because it's a long story.

I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your prayers and support throughout the years/months/weeks/days. I've come to close to shutting down this blog but, somehow, someone always seems to message me and encourage me to keep going so I do.

I have a lot of really, really, really exciting things coming up in my life in the near future. I will give y'all clues: London. Writing. Career. Discernment. Vocation/Relationship. Reversion. Travel. Possibly another degree. Rediscovery. Faith. I will write about these things at some point; most likely as I'm about to embark on them or when I'm deep enough into it that I can talk about it.

Stick around because I'm apparently not done writing yet. I'm sorry. lol. Oh, the writer in me. ;)

That's it for now. I have a lot of things to do today but I wanted to take a little break to write this post.  My 1,000th post. Nope, it hasn't sunk in yet. lol.

Oh! Before I go, I was wondering if I could bother y'all for some prayers. As I've shared before, I've had pancytopenia (low red and white blood cells as well as low platelets) on-and-off for years and tomorrow I'll have 18 (!) vials of blood drawn for the most thorough blood work they've ever done on me. They're testing everything -- vitamins, minerals, complete CBC, bone marrow, clotting, lupus, and seemingly any and all tests to rule things out a blood disorder or the presence of antibodies in my system. Thankfully, I won't have to fast but it's still a lot of blood. I've been feeling a little more weak/fatigued than usual lately so I'm a little worried about all the vials that will be taken. I would greatly appreciate any prayers you can spare. I just don't pass out or have any complications from the blood draw. I also hope for good news with the results because I'm tired of always feeling tired because of the anemia. Thank you in advance!

Alright, I gotta go do errands and try to find some good carne asada because I need to really prepare for tomorrow. All the iron-rich foods! lol. ;)

I hope y'all are having a lovely week thus far!

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

Childhood Memories of Faith

Taken by me from the pews of my childhood parish.

While I wait for my downstairs neighbors to quit making noise (so I can study; file this under "apartment resident problems"), I thought I'd share something that came to mind while I was praying the Rosary a couple of days ago.

Does anyone remember what their faith was like when you were a child? Did you pray with your family? Did you pray before going to sleep? How about praying before and/or after every meal? How was your attention span during Mass? I'm so very curious as to how others experienced their faith as a child.

As for me, we (Mom and I have) have joked about how I "born to be a Catholic." Some of my earliest memories include being completely transfixed on the priest and what he did during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, especially during the consecration. I remember little 6-7-year-old me in the front pew (I always wanted to be in the front), eyes glued to the priest and what was going on at the altar. I didn't understand what was going on but I knew it was important. I think I even used to sigh happily during it. I knew it was about Jesus but didn't know much beyond that. Did I mention I was about 6 or 7? No one had told me about what happened during Mass. I knew the prayers because my parents taught them to me and I knew little things but nothing deeper than that, of course. I know my little mind wouldn't have been able to grasp the concept as much as I did when I reverted. Still, I loved going to Mass as a child.

I used to say that I wanted to be a nun when I grew up. I think I was particularly attracted to the Carmelite nuns. Those memories are a little fuzzy but I remember that I loved their habits and used to say "I'm going to be a nun when I grow up." Obviously, that didn't happen though St. Teresa of Avila was one of the first saints I admired when I returned to the Church as a 21-year-old.

I also remember that I once called a Catholic company that used to send free crosses to any child who was in catechism and wanted one. I don't remember what their name was (all I remember is that they were based in Maryland around 1993) but I remember how excited I was when it arrived. It was a small, white plastic cross that read "I love Jesus" in golden letters. I took it to school with me, unashamed of my love of my faith. I think I was about 8 around this time since I was in catechism to make my First Communion (which took place in 1994, a couple of days before I turned 9).

My parents taped a holy card of a Guardian Angel helping a child cross a river on the headboard of my bed so I was the first and last thing I saw. I also remember being completely scared of a picture my parents had in my room of two roads -- one leading to Heaven and another leading to Hell. The Hell part scared the crumbs out of me and I hated it. I must've been about 5 years old (yes, I have memories that young) and I think that scarred me a little. lol.

I also remember that I was basically on my own when it came to my faith. My parents took me to Mass sporadically growing up. I went nearly every Sunday (I think) while I was in catechism classes but as soon as my First Communion and then Confirmation (which happened when I was 13 years-old) were celebrated, they felt like it was enough. In fact, that was part of the reason why I unintentionally/unofficially left the Church during my teens until I was 21.

Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if my parents had had a stronger relationship with God. Would I have never left the Church? I won't lament it. I know that both of my parents were also poorly catechized and that both were away from the Church for decades. My father went 40+ years without going to confession or receiving the Eucharist (his return was my 24th birthday gift two months before he passed away) and my mother returned shortly before his death as well. I'm grateful that God has used me to help get them back -- especially my father; my biggest fear was that he would pass without returning to the Church -- and that, through the help of the Holy Spirit, I'm still able to clarify a few faith-related things to my mom. Our theological conversations make me happy and have increased over the years.

I also oftentimes think about how I will want to raise my future children (if God blesses me with any). I know that I want them to develop their relationship with God as soon as they can understand it. Of course, I'll take them to Mass and I'll teach them prayers as they're growing up. Since I didn't experience any prayers before or after meals (until a few years ago when I started doing it on my own) or even with my family (I can't recall ever praying with my parents outside of Mass), I know it'll be a huge learning experience for me but I look forward to it.

Oh! One more question: if you grew up with a strong sense of the faith and if your parents were religious, do you think it helped (or didn't help) your own faith formation growing up? I'm very curious and would love to hear any stories you may like to share. :D

Alright, it sounds like my neighbors have lowered down the noise level enough for me to be able to concentrate on some lecture videos. I have two exams next week and I need ALL the study time I can get. And prayers, if you can spare them. Please and thank you in advance. :)

I hope y'all are having a lovely start of week thus far!

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

In Sickness and In Health?

Tiny violin. Get it? lol.

I'm just going to say it: sometimes I worry that no man will want to marry me because of all the health issues I've been through in recent years. There. I said it. It's out in the open.

If you're wondering what prompted this blog post and admission, it's been a number of things. The combination of reading vocation stories, having my own (future) vocation reaffirmed, and the fact that I've finally stopped making excuses to avoid dating and being open to dating has all been building up over the past couple of months.

"If you're worried about not finding someone who will want to be with you while you're sick, why even date?" Why go to school? Why get up in the morning? Why make plans? All for the same reason: I'm very optimistic that I'll get healthier before I know it. Why do I keep studying even though the medical conditions I have right now (which are reversible, thank goodness) make it difficult to memorize and concentrate? Again, because I don't plan on being sick forever. Furthermore, I don't want to stay stagnant. I feel like I've wasted so many years of my life just staying in the same place, not moving forward, because I let the obstacles that are in my way give me an excuse to be selfish and put a pause on things. I'm tired of doing that so forward I must go.

"If you're sure about your vocation, why are you worried about not finding someone?" Because I'm human. I worry about things I have no control over because that's how I am. My poor father (may he rest in peace) worried about everything and he was superstitious as a result so guess who I learned those terrible habits from. I try to stay positive but sometimes I get overwhelmed and these thoughts pop into my mind. I worry that I discern my vocation wrong and maybe this is all a sign that I'm meant to stay single. You hear that? That's 4 years of being sick without relief. If it's not one thing, it's another.

"But you have to trust God." Who says I don't? I trust God. I definitely don't do a good job at it 24/7 but I try. I'm learning to trust that He will send relief if it's His will. If not, I pray (and trust) that He will send me the courage to endure it. Do you trust God 24/7? Truly and honestly, 100% of the time? Let's be honest, we all have our moments in which trusting God is hard. Maybe not with health issues but financial, familial, career, etc? We've all had our moments. It doesn't mean that we love Him any less, it just means that we have a lot to work on.

One of the reoccurring thoughts that has kept popping up in my mind lately has been "this is all a test of trust." Whether I'm right or wrong, only God knows but I feel like it may be. I say I trust Him, but do I trust Him enough? Nope. It's become so obvious that I don't. This has been heightened with my recent health issues. New symptom? Worry. Heart rate slowing down, taking sharp drops while I sleep? Panic. Often, the "this is all a test of trust" light will flicker on, helping me to relax and not fall into the spiral of self-predicting doom. I'm getting better at it but I still have a long way to go.

I'll be the first to admit that I didn't grow up surrounded by happy marriages. Most women who talked to me and gave me "man advice" growing up were bitter and jaded for one reason or another. One reason I heard was because either the woman got sick and the man left or vice versa. Most of their advice was to establish a career that I could fall back on in case the man I married was a deadbeat who would eventually abandon me for someone else... because "most men are like that." No joke. I heard that advice about 95% of the time when someone older talked to me about getting married in the future. In fact, I still hear it though now it's accompanied by "oh, but you're 31 now. You're educated. You'll be fine either way." Sometimes I feel like they want to add that I'm too sick to even think about it... or have one huge stipulation (that I stay close to my mother since her memory is slowly failing as she gets older) that will make things impossible in the marriage department.

If you're wondering why I'm so open about this and why I'm doing it on such a public forum: because we don't read about it. Ever. In my nearly 10 years as a blogger and blog reader, I've never seen another blogger -- Catholic or otherwise -- talk about their fears regarding their vocation as a future spouse. Maybe I'm the only one that feels like this way but I have a feeling there are others out there who have similar thoughts. Maybe not health issues but another cross that they worry no one will want to help them carry. I'm not ashamed of what I've written because it's my reality. I write what I feel, even if it's not pretty and/or occasionally pessimistic.

Don't worry, I'm not a regular Marvin, the Paranoid Android. I'm not pessimistic all the time. In fact, most of the time I'm quite optimistic about the future and things in general. Still, I have my occasional moments of doubt. I'm sharing what usually goes on in my mind during those moments because I have a doctor's appointment (which is coming up at 6:30 p.m. PST) today and I wanted to blog so this topic came to mind.

That's all I have to say about this topic for now. Just putting it out there. I'm sure my close friends will now keep reminding me that I'm being silly, which is fine. :)

I hope my next post (tomorrow, maybe?) will be much happier. I'm off of social media for the week. I hope. We'll see. I am weak when it comes to posting updates. No, sharing links directly from Catholic websites onto Twitter does not count; I mean actual "I'm bored; this is what's going on with me" posts. ;)

Anyway, I'm going to try to walk around my apartment because I don't want to fall asleep less than an hour before I have to leave for my appointment. Did I mention I only got a little more than 4.5 hours of sleep last night/this morning? Yep. I need to talk to the doctor this evening (not my regular doctor as far as I know) about not being able to fall asleep. Hopefully, that'll help keep me alert for a little while. Don't worry, my mother is coming with me to the appointment so I won't be driving by myself. Yes, I'll also try to avoid heavy traffic by using side streets. :)

I hope y'all had a lovely weekend and have a great start of 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

Dear Dad...

Today is the 7th anniversary of your death. I still can't wrap my mind around it being that long. It both does and doesn't feel like much time has passed. I haven't forgotten what you look like but I occasionally forget what your voice sounded like. I guess that's normal since it's been so long.

I started playing the guitar again. This time, it's a little more regularly. I stopped playing after you died. It took me a good 5-6 years to really find any interest in it again. You promised me a guitar shortly before you died which still occasionally hurts. No, getting the guitar doesn't matter; it's the fact that you promised something that will never be fulfilled that got me down. It's a constant reminder that there were things we planned that will never get fulfilled. Every time I picked the guitar up, I was reminded of you and that promise. I remember all those times you drove me to my lessons as well as the times you drove me to get my first two guitars (and how you picked out the first one I ever owned). I think it was quite funny that the only thing that cheered me up this weekend was picking up my acoustic guitar and playing, followed by singing. There's more music in the house, like you liked when you were alive.

I've been through heck and back over the last year but I'm still here, thriving despite the setbacks. I still have that fire in me that I inherited from both you and Mom. My health has gone through ups and downs but I'm overall recovering. The car accident didn't feel me down for too long and I've been driving ever since I got my car back from the mechanic. You'd be proud of me for that. I know you were worried about me and my anxiety before you died but it's been better than it's been since I was a teenager. I've had moments of anxiety (and the darn antibiotics brought them back this past week) but I'm not letting it keep me down for long. Your little girl doesn't get easily scared nor does she quit.

Speaking of quitting, despite the academic setbacks, I've not quit that either. I'm returning to the SLP field. I was accepted to Utah State once again over the weekend. I should be graduating early next May. On your deathbed I promised you that I'd take care of Mom and since it's becoming quite clear that she's going to need to retire sooner than later, I've put my dreams of that Theology MA on the backburner in favor of a career as an SLPA. Isn't that what you and Mom taught me; that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for our family? Once I can get that going, I'll return to finish the other degree. I don't regret it nor am I upset at the sudden change of plans. They weren't what I had planned but God knows what He's doing. I know He is helping guide me down this journey of mine and for now I have to focus on this. :)

Not much else to report on. I'm that same content little girl you raised. Things don't always work out as I'd like them to and I do get down for a little while but I bounce back. I'm still incredibly silly when I'm with those whom I trust. I still carry myself the way you and Mom taught me to act. I hope you'd be proud of the woman I've grown up to be. I still feel like I'm growing but I think that's a never ending process.

I'm still single (I'm sure you'd appreciate that since my sister married so young, lol) but I'm happy. I know I have to be happy with myself by myself or else I'm going to place unrealistic expectations on the future fella and future family. I still think it's in the cards for me but not now. For whatever reason, I have to wait a bit longer and that's okay. One of the last things you said to me before you died was that you trusted my judgment when it came to relationships and that's something I continue to carry with me. Don't worry, I've got more than enough people willing to step in and check out (*cough*interrogate*cough*) potential candidates. Thank you for raising me with old fashioned values; it's helped me weed out jerks.

I still think about you all the time and you pop up in my dreams quite often, especially when I have an important decision weighing on my mind. I hope I can continue making you proud. I'll always remember the lessons you taught me (especially how to parallel park like a boss) and make sure I'm the best person I can be.

With love,

Fatherless Father's Day

Every year there are three bittersweet days for me: my father's birthday (March 22nd), the day of his death (July 11th; coincidentally also St. Benedict of Nursia's feast day, patron of the dying), and Father's Day. Sweet because I'm reminding of the father I had and bitter because he's no longer here.

I can't tell you how annoyed I get when stores begin to send me their "Get your father the best gift..." emails. I want to reply "My father died years ago; please stop reminding me." I don't but I certainly think it with every email I get. Best Buy is especially annoying when it comes to that, by the way. I think I received no less than 5 emails about it over the last week or two.

It's so easy to dwell on the pain of no longer having my father here with me. Yes, even though he's been gone for almost 7 years now (7 years in a couple of weeks), it's not easy and it never will be. Though the pain is not as raw as it was years ago, I still miss him terribly. I don't think anyone ever fully "recovers" from their parents' deaths but we can be at peace knowing they're in a better place. My faith has helped me be and stay at peace even during particularly difficult moments.

Though things are hard, I've chosen not to dwell on them. Instead, I give thanks to God for having given me a wonderful father for the first 24 years of my life. I'm thankful that my father (who was notorious for forgetting my birthday every year) returned to the Church the day before my 24th birthday (his birthday gift to me), confessing to a priest and then receiving the Eucharist after being away from the Church for over 40 years. I'm also thankful that, the day before his death (almost exactly 24 hours before), a different kind of Father (a priest) came to administer the Last Rites to my father.

I choose to be thankful for all the men in my life who have been there for me since my father's death. First of all, shout out to God who is my heavenly Father and keeps loving and guiding this imperfect daughter of His. I'm grateful for my "big brother" (an older cousin who is like a brother to me), Pedro, who stepped up and became the "man of the house" in the years following my father's death until Mom and I were able to stand on our own. Seeing him with his own kids reminds me that there are good loving fathers out there. For my friends who became "uncles" and "big brothers" to me (and who have families of their own), who checked in on me (and still do), who've help guide me and have given me guy advice over the guys, I can't thank enough. And, last but certainly not least, to the Fathers (priests) whose guidance has helped both my mother and I grow spiritually in the last couple of years.

Even though I don't have my earthly father living anymore, I'm going to keep celebrating the other men in my life -- family members, those who are like family, my friends who are raising their children up beautiful, my priest friends (and priests in general). I'm going to pray for those who are hurting (those who've lost their fathers like I have), those who never knew their fathers, those who are fathers and are loving fathers to their children, and those who are fathers but don't know how to be fathers to their children's lives for whatever reason. I'm also going to pray for my future husband, that God helps him become the kind of father our future children need.

Maybe I should rethink the title as it seems that I won't have a fatherless Father's Day after all; not with all the wonderful father figures in my life. :)

Anyway, these are my thoughts on the day. To all my readers who are fathers (either biologically or spiritually), thank you for all the hard work and sacrifices you do for your children. I hope you have a lovely Father's Day tomorrow. :D

I hope y'all (men and women) have a great weekend. :D

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

Entrusting My Loneliness to God

First off, I want to say a huge "thank you!" to everyone who prayed for me over the weekend and earlier this week. As I mentioned in my last post, I felt myself going through a metaphorical desert for about a week and a half. I think that all the stress of being pushed and pulled in every direction by well meaning people (or, at least, I'm assuming they were well meaning), seeing my mom being mentally and emotionally bullied at work (please say a prayer for her if you can as it has yet to stop), and having the anniversary of dad's death all in the same week overwhelmed me. Like I said in the previous post, I shut down when I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Lately, I've been feeling lonely. I feel like people take me for granted. I ask for little in return... and when I do ask for that little bit, I'm pushed to the side because no one wants to deal with it. I have been the confidant of so many people. I keep many secrets. I'm asked for advice (sometimes on things beyond my experience or knowledge) and I ask the Holy Spirit to help me say the right words to people, even if that's redirecting them to someone who may be able to better help them. I'm always there for friends when they need to cry, rant, explode with happiness, etc. That means that I've sacrificed sleep, sacrificed doing something for myself (even if it means eating), because I want to be there for my friends. However, lately it's seemed one-sided.

I needed someone to talk to this past weekend... and I had no one. I understand that my friends were busy and that they have things going on in their own lives. However, when I expressed feeling sad and drained due to the anniversary of my father's death, those I reached out to quickly changed the topic... or asked me if I was going to dwell on it all day. I didn't want much; I just wanted someone to listen to me for 5 minutes about how hard it is not to have my dad, despite his having passed years ago. I needed to tell someone how people are making me feel like I'm not good enough for anyone or anything. 5 minutes of talking to a human being, that's all I require. I don't need any words to be returned, a simple hug or the mention of a possible prayer would've been more than enough. That's all I need to be able to keep my spirits up. What I ended up with was feeling overwhelmingly lonely.

Having the fact that I'm still single shoved in face every single day by (again) well meaning people hurts. I've had to deal with this for the past two months, almost unceasingly. Like the age of 30 -- despite not looking nor feeling that old -- doomed me to a life of old maid (or a nun because it obviously meant that I wasn't meant to marry) if I didn't do anything about it right now. I've expressed not wanting my personal life discussed with frequency... to deaf ears.

I had NO issue with my state in life until it became the sole focus on some people in my life. I was fine being single; happy to be given the time to know myself after having spent my late teens and early 20s helping take care of my father during his last years of life. I didn't feel the "ache of loneliness" (as Jackie Francois once said)... until people kept bringing it up. That coupled with the fact that I felt like I had no one to talk to me made the loneliness seem worse.

My initial reaction to being engulfed with the feeling was to seek something to fill that loneliness... and, in a beautiful moment of clarity (while contemplating a novena to the Immaculate Heart of Mary), I realized that only God could suffice that gaping hole. I'm sure my daily recitation of the Rosary -- though I had to force myself to pray it on some days -- helped me reach that conclusion.

That was the turning point for me. My thoughts lately have been: "alright, God... no human being is going to fulfill that emptiness and loneliness; only You can do that." I said as much to my spiritual director at our meeting this week. When I said it to him, I realized that I was being led out of that desert by Him. I can't express how grateful I feel. I've known people who've felt the same (or greater) amount of loneliness and have sought comfort that ended up being a source of great regret for them. I didn't want to make that same mistake... and it looks like He didn't want me to either. 

I'm not sure how all of this (having Him fill that hole) to be accomplished but I trust Him. I'm going to start a double novena to the Immaculate Heart of Mary and the Sacred Heart of Jesus to entrust my heart to them. I'm going to seek refuge in them, especially during this time when I feel taken for granted, taken advantage of, and, sadly, feeling unloved... which leads to feeling lonely.

I'm sorry this isn't one of those happy blog posts but it's what's going on with me. Though I don't always express my feelings so easily -- and that stems from my desire to not trouble people -- I still feel deeply. Yes, I know that feelings aren't always to be trusted... but I still have them. It's what makes me empathetic (or so I've been told) and what makes me me. I like myself, emotions and all.

I also didn't write this blog post to shame anyone whom I know. My hopes for this blog post are to remind people that sometimes listening to a friend (especially the one whom you normally run to) is all they need and to tell anyone who's in the same boat that they're not alone. I know I'm not the first nor will I be the last. Oh, and to my friends: absolutely no hard feelings. I understand that we can't always be there for everyone. :)

Anyway, that's from me for now. I'm trying to cut my time online (yes, again) as part of my new self-care routine (which I will share in the near future) so I'm going to try to finish everything I need to do.

I hope y'all have a great weekend. :D

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

Thanks for Raising a Lady, Dad

Dear Dad,

I can't believe you passed away 6 years ago tomorrow. I still think about you often and know that you're looking out for me from wherever you are. I smelled your cologne in my room earlier today after returning from the kitchen when I made myself breakfast. It's somewhat comforting because it makes me feel like you're still here for me when thought you won't ever be physically here for me again. Something that mom said earlier today made me even more grateful to have had you as a father... you taught me to be a lady.

Mom told me how you chose to work at night so that she could be here with me at night. She told (and showed me pictures) of how you used to make sure I was always well dressed, well fed, and clean. "By the time I came home, your dad had all the bottles washed, you were (bottle) fed, you were clean, and I had little to do." Furthermore, she told me that you made sure I grew up knowing that I was a lady and that I should behave like one.

We saw a cute baby girl running in her front yard in just her diaper on our way home today. It was cute and innocent but mom automatically said "your father would've never allowed that." She told me how you always had me dressed in my little dresses, tights, and hairdos she could never get the hang of. Despite there being nothing wrong with babies in only diapers during the summertime, I was surprised to hear that he only allowed it at home because you wanted me to me to be respected... even when I was a child.

I know some people will groan at what I've written. If I hear a "Oh, your father was controlling and he... *insert feminist rant*" it won't bother me because I appreciate the fact that you taught me about modesty and how to carry myself with dignity from birth. To this day, I don't like showing too much skin. I never did... and it's because you taught me that I was more than my looks and my body. It's not because you wanted me to be in date-less exile (in fact, I still remember that one of the last things you said to me was that you trusted me to make the right decisions when it came to my relationships), it was because you knew that I deserved to be treated with respect.

I'm in tears as I write this because I never realized how much you continue to influence me (in a positive way) so many years after you passed. July 11, 2009 at 10:15 a.m. you took your last breath at the same hospital where I was born and I cried tears of sorrow. July 10, 2015 at 5:38 p.m., I cry tears of joy and gratitude for the privilege of calling you my father. Thank you, daddy, for everything.

Your little girl,

Bl. Pier Giorgio's Last Days Reminded Me Of My Dad

Do not use without permission.

Originally posted July 5, 2013

"I'm usually a fast reader. My Brother Pier Giorgio: His Last Days was supposed to be an easy read at only 120 pages. I should've finished it in less than 24 hours. How long did it take me? Four days. Why? Because I had to stop more often than anticipated. And why did I stop so often? Because it reminded me way too much of what I went through with my own father. The PTSD kicked in at times, leaving me feeling faint and anxious at times. I don't regret reading it and would gladly endure the PTSD symptoms if it was longer because I truly liked it.

First the quick book review: as I said before, I liked the book. I didn't enjoy reading about Bl. Pier Giorgio's suffering. I didn't enjoy reading about his family's sorrow. What I enjoyed was the intense love for God and our Blessed Mother that Bl. Pier Giorgio had until the end. I won't spoil anything for those of you who want to read it but I will say that I was deeply touched by Bl. Pier Giorgio's devotion and yearning for heaven, even into his last moments on earth. The book is written by his sister, Luciana, and it covers the last couple of days of his short life. She writes with such feeling and detail that I felt as if I personally experienced it with them. If you have yet to read it, I recommend that you do.

Now for the rest: the parallels between Bl. Pier Giorgio's and my father's last days... they hit close to home. If you haven't been a reader of this blog for long (or weren't a reader while I chronicled my father's last months), I'll provide links so you can catch up. Warning: I've been told tissues are necessary in some places.

I became an admirer of Bl. Pier Giorgio's before my father's last cancer diagnosis. When we heard that dad's cancer was terminal, I asked for Bl. Pier Giorgio's intercession. "Please let this be the miracle that you need to be canonized," I pleaded. "Please, help him stop suffering! Please!" I selfishly wanted my father to live. 4 years ago yesterday, I had a Mass dedicated to Bl. Pier Giorgio on his feast day. As you may read, I stayed behind and prayed for his intercession (along with intercessions of other saints for other prayer request I'd received). I went to visit my father after Mass. It was one of the last times he would be able to hold down his food and coffee... just like Bl. Pier Giorgio did. On Bl. PG's feast day, my father savored his favorite drink (coffee) just like Bl. PG did towards the end of his life (as per the book).

A few days later, and two days before his death, I wrote this post about how I was handling the news that my father had a week or so to live. Watching my father looking more and more thin every day (the cancer had spread to his liver and stomach at the end) was hard for me. Luciana, Bl. Pier Giorgio's sister, wrote a similar account with the same feelings I experienced about seeing Bl. PG deteriorate. It was hard but I prayed for a miracle, just like she, their family, and friends did for Bl. PG.

My father died, like Bl. Pier Giorgio, on a Saturday... exactly one week after Bl. PG's feast day. I didn't get the miracle I wanted but I did get the strength I needed to get through the funeral preparations and the funeral itself. A year later Bl. Pier Giorgio would intercede for me in a big way (which I will talk about in a bit). The book reminded me that life is short and precious, how we never know how or when we will go, and how we should try to live a life of the Beatitudes (like Bl. Pier Giorgio did). While my relationship with my father was similar to Bl. PG's with his father, I was reminded that my father died being proud of me as I know Bl. PG's father must have been of him when the word of his good deeds came to light.

Though my intercession plea to Bl. Pier Giorgio didn't happen (as it was not God's will for my father), he did come through for me a few months later when I applied to transfer to that horrid CINO college (seriously, I didn't know how bad it was before I attended). I received the news that I wouldn't need an enormous loan to pay for school. The year that my father died, I was supposed to enter the school with a $20,000+ (per year) loan. I withdrew and reapplied for the next year and received grants and scholarships. I ended up graduating with a small loan of $2,000 (total) for the two years I was there. Through his intercession I was able to graduate (from a $40,000 per school year college) with a savings of over $40,000 (I'm counting some interest there). Thank you for your intercession, Bl. Pier Giorgio!

Anyway, the whole point of this post is that I am incredibly grateful to Bl. Pier Giorgio for everything he's done for me. He (along with St. Therese) was my "heavenly buddy" during my imprisonment (haha!) at the CINO college, as he was before and continues to be to this day. While the book about his last days reminded me (in detail) about my father's last days, it also reminded me (through Luciana's words) that life goes on but that doesn't mean we forget those who have had a great impact on our lives. There is always time to fix any bad habits and strive for a more saintly life.

Okay, I am about two seconds from going into ugly crying face mode so I'm going to stop here. :) Oh! One last thing before I go: I will work hard to get that second miracle Bl. Pier Giorgio needs to become a saint... even if it means spreading the word of his life and his good deeds to people who have never heard of him. He will be declared a saint one day and I hope that it happens in my lifetime. :)"

And that's it for today.

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

Unable to Find the Right Words

This past week (and especially the last couple of days) have been a little strange for me. I've found myself speechless more often than not for a multitude of reasons. The two biggest reasons have something in common -- the potential loss of a parent.

A few days ago, the mother of one of my oldest friends had a hemorrhagic stroke and today the doctors said she was brain dead. Right now the family is waiting for guidance (and/or a miracle) to make the decision on whether or not to "pull the plug." At the same time, the father of another good friend is not doing too well (he has a brain tumor that can't be treated with chemotherapy) and he may have days to live. I've found myself not being able to come up with anything to say other than they're in my prayers (which they are) and that I'm there for them (which I am). I've been in their shoes before but I find myself unable to say the right words.

Are there any right words to say in these types of situations? I had some incredible friends who knew the right things to say 5 years ago while my father was living his last weeks. Other friends gave me my space and I suspect some of them did it because they (like me, right now) didn't know what to say. I feel like everyone says the same thing (or are more eloquent) so all I can say is what I've already mentioned ("you're in my prayers", "call/text me if you need me.")

I know myself well enough to know that if I speak exactly what I feel, I'm going to end up sobbing or making them (unintentionally) cry. I feel things very deeply and I'm sensitive to seeing others in any type of pain. If you don't believe me, read the article I wrote for Envoy Magazine about my experience with my father's death; I've never had so many grown men tell me that my words made them tear up. I'm actually sitting here, trying not to tear up as I type this out. Just knowing that my friends are going through one of the most difficult things (losing a parent) is hard.

I don't live close enough to my friends to be able to physically be there for them. If I could, I would be there, at the hospitals or helping in any way that I could. They're in my heart and on my mind all day. They're in my prayers and in the prayers of my friends whom they don't know. I still hope and pray for miracles but I don't know what else to do. Why don't I feel like that's enough? Before my father's death, I didn't have much experience in this field... and I still haven't had much since. I'm at a loss of what to do. I'm just "typing out loud" at this point.

Can y'all please pray for both of them and their families? I may be unable to find the right words to say but I can, at least, help spread the news so that we can all storm heaven with prayers.

That's it for now. Sorry this post is kind of a bummer but this is what's been on my mind lately.

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

Dear Dad...

Dear Dad,

I can't believe you've been gone exactly 5 years today. It seems like just yesterday that I was sneaking into the hospital to see you. I haven't forgotten what you looked like, even without the aid of pictures. I occasionally forget what your voice sounded like but it eventually comes back to me.

I've kept the promises I made to you minutes before you passed. I'm taking care of mom as best as I can. She hasn't been too happy about it at times (especially when I had to restrict and change her diet when her cholesterol levels came back dangerously high) but she knows I do it for her benefit. Between Pedro and I, she's well taken care of.

Speaking of Pedro, he's stepped up big for mom and I. Up until his move to Texas, he was always here for us whenever we needed him. He would even show up unannounced at times, which was always fun when we had a messy living room. He was there for every academic award I received, for every birthday (until his move), and he was at my graduation ceremony with the boys a couple of years ago. He's still in touch and he's even offered to take mom in if I decided to go out of state for grad school. I most likely won't take him up on it but it's nice of him to offer.

As I promised you, I finished college and am even back for a second degree in a different field. I didn't promise that I would continue beyond the Bachelor of Arts I received from my (awful) alma mater but I know you knew I'd continue to go as far as I could. Your daughter's still an academic nerd, daddy-o. I thank you and mom for instilling the importance of a good education in me.

I've grown up a lot in the last 5 years... and I didn't even notice it until it was pointed out. I know you were worried about how I would do without you here to help me but you'd be proud of what I've accomplished. Mom told me about how you were worried that my anxiety would either get worse or would keep me from reaching my potential, but it hasn't. I've been driving for a couple of years now (yeah, I know... no one thought I would ever get the courage to do that!) and I'm even occasionally sarcastic with some of the drivers who test my patience. I don't let people walk all over me like they used to. Mom says I'm almost exactly like Abuelita Angelita which I know you'd be happy with; I know how much you loved her.

As soon as I was officially diagnosed with PTSD, my therapist helped me sort through the things that brought them on. While it's impossible for me not to have a little anxiety now and then, it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be. It hasn't kept me from moving forward... and I have been moving forward.

You taught me to have courage so I've been tapping into that with the help of my spiritual director. I've made big changes in the past year. I bit the bullet and changed careers. The COMD program is very hard but I love it and I'm really happy being a part of it. I'm not afraid of hard work and I know it'll be rewarding in the end. And, surprise, I'm going to end up working with kids... and it won't be teaching in a classroom. ;)

I've recently made a decision in regards to something I've been putting off for years. Yes, it's time. Yes, I know I've had dreams in which you've offered your fatherly advice on the subject but Fr. G told me not to pay too much attention to those dreams for obvious reasons. You helped raise a strong, independent young woman who is a little on the stubborn and feisty side at times so I should be fine whatever the outcome. lol.

As you can see, I'm doing well and I will continue to grow and thrive. I do occasionally cry when I think about the fact that you're not here. I cried on my graduation day and I'll probably cry again at the next one (hopefully) next year. I will more than likely cry every time I reach a major milestone in my life that you're not there for; that will never change. However, the fact that I know you're not suffering and that I'm (hopefully) making you proud keeps me going. I know you'll be there in spirit and that's comforting.

You'll never be forgotten and you'll always be loved. I'll continue trying to make you proud.

Your "little" girl,

7 Quick Takes, Vol.19: Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati Edition

First, I want to wish all my fellow Americans a Happy Independence Day. Be safe and have fun during your celebrations.

Today is the feast day of my favorite soon-to-be saint, Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati. I was actually kind of sad that I ended the novena yesterday because I noticed the difference in my outlook on life during the novena. While the personal intention is private, I will say that it definitely helped me reevaluate certain things that had been on my mind (including a big decision I've had to make). So, in honor of the saint I've adopted as my "spiritual big brother", here's 7 ways Bl. PGF has helped me throughout 20s.

-- 1 --

I first became acquainted with Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati during the 2008 World Youth Day celebrations in Sydney. I didn't personally go to Sydney but I did follow it via the XT3 (when it was still a brand new website; yes, I'm still on it though I don't actively participate as much these days). While it took me a couple of months to actually look up his story, I was immediately impressed with it; so much courage, faith, and love for Christ in such a short time on this earth. It was two years after my reversion and I didn't know how he would help shape the rest of my 20s.

-- 2 --

This was the first year (in years) that I didn't do the Bl. PGF novena on this blog because I knew I wouldn't have the time. I didn't forget to do the novena (I finished it last night) but I also knew that I didn't have the time to either post it every day or even schedule it ahead of time because of how crunched for time I've been with school lately. I'm barely getting time to study for exams (though I do have an hour today... hence this blog post) but I hope to resume the tradition next year. If you've never done the novena, I highly recommend it. I've personally seen the difference in the way I think and act (in a good way) while I do the novena and the effects stay with me for a good, long while. Do it! You'll love it.

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I believe that Bl. PGF helped me during my father's death. As I wrote last year, there was some similarities between Bl. PGF's death and my father's death. One thing that I just realized (while writing this post) is that Bl. PGF died at the age of 24, while I had my father on this earth for the first 24 years of my life. Anyway, I prayed for Bl. PGF's intercession when my father was in the hospital (I even placed a picture of Bl. PGF in front of my dad's bed). On his feast day, 5 years ago today, I asked him for a miracle. We didn't quite get the miracle we wanted but I do feel like Bl. PGF intercede in another way. I believe that through his intercession (as well as the prayers from everyone else), I was able to keep it together. I didn't fall apart, which is what most people probably expect. If you've read the blog post I wrote after my father's funeral, you can see what I mean. This hasn't been the only time Bl. PGF has intercede for me.

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Readers of this blog who've stuck around since either before or while I was at my dreadful alma mater (and I say dreadful because of their CINO ways) know that I was pretty miserable at the school because of the things that were "taught" there. Bl. PGF and St. Therese of Lisieux both helped me during my two years there. St. Therese helped remind me to counter some of the dirty looks I received with love. Bl. PGF helped remind me that I had to fight so that the Truth would be heard by my classmates. While I wasn't unable to speak up during the majority of the lectures (my professors quickly knew where I stood in my beliefs), I was still able to do little things to counter the unorthodox liberation theology we were exposed to.

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Who is responsible for my daily Mass addiction? Take one guess. lol. Over the years I've become a big fan of attending daily Mass. Reading about how much Bl. PGF loved to attend daily Mass and receiving the Eucharist has inspired me to do the same. When my anxiety was worse (years before it was officially diagnosed as PTSD) and I wanted to receive the Eucharist, I would try to imagine him standing next to me, holding me up (with Mama Mary or St. Therese at my other side) when I would feel as if my knees would buckle under me. While it's been a while since I've attended daily Mass (the fatigue I've felt over the last 2-3 months has been intense at times), I've been wanting to renew my daily trips. I hope to do so starting tomorrow. :)

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If you want to learn more about Bl. PGF, I'd recommend reading A Man of the Beatitudes: Pier Giorgio Frassati by his sister Luciana, My Brother Pier Giorgio: His Final Days also by Luciana, and/or Pier Giorgio Frassati: Letters to His Friends and Family edited by Fr. Timothy E. Deeter and Christine M. Wohar. I've read (but not finished all; oops) all three and I highly recommend them. I still have to finish the book on his Letters but it's been so beautiful and encouraging thus far. Oh! Brandon Vogt is giving away the Man of the Beatitudes book AND a DVD on the EWTN special they did on Bl. PGF (which I also own). I thought I'd pass it along if y'all wanted a chance to win. Go. Do it!

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This is my Bl. PGF Tiny Saint that my mom bought me at the Cathedral a few months ago. He goes everywhere with me, along with the Mary Undoer of Knots key chain that Angelica sent me for Christmas. As I continue to discern joining the Dominican lay order (guess who inspired me to look into becoming a Dominican, even though I was originally headed down the Carmelite path), I shall continue to keep my "spiritual big brother" as a role model. It doesn't matter that I am now older than he was while he was on this earth, I know that he will continue to look after me as any big brother would over his little sister. :)

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And that is all the fangirling I have a chance to do at this time. lol. I have lunch to take care of, a mother to pick up from work, and two exams/quizzes to study for. Did I mention that we COMD students don't get holidays off? Working straight until (at least) the end of this month. ;)

I hope y'all are doing well. If you have any prayer requests, send them my way. :D

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