Our king, a baby: Beauty in the weakness

In thinking about Advent, I find it beautiful how Jesus as our King chose to come into the world as a child – one of the most vulnerable stages of life possible.

Our king a babyImage Via (edits added)

Our culture (which values independence and empowerment like crazy) kind of scoffs at the idea of a baby being so utterly powerful. After all, we’re supposed to be fiercely empowered people who know how to be the boss. You know how important those pantsuits are! But the greatest gift of all, the most powerful creature of all, chose to come to us in terms we could see and understand in no other form than a baby.

A baby is helpless. And as many people remind us, babies are completely dependent on their parents. So why would Jesus chose to come into the world so vulnerable? He’s the ultimate boss of life. Why would he submit himself in the guise of a child?

At least for me, I see so much hope in the eyes of a baby. Maybe you like kids. Maybe you don’t. I really do love kids, and one of my favorite things ever is to just be with babies. You just hold them, and they trust you. They haven’t grown to know the hurt of the world yet. And for that moment? Everything is beautiful. You hold this precious itty-bitty life that has so much potential. The possibilities are endless.

On my closet door I have one of those sticky vinyl lettering decorations that reads “Every child is a story yet to be told” with tons of pictures around it from different aspects and times of my life with people I know and love. It reminds me to think about other people, and to remember that we all have a story.

And right now, we only know part of our stories.

When we’re babies, we know even less of the story. The possibilities and hope are there, though. You never know what that person was created to be and do. It’s pretty awe-inspiring when I think about it.

Jesus came into the world not only as probably one of the cutest babies ever, but also to eventually save us. And if you ask me, there probably isn’t a situation that is filled with more hope than that. Let Fulton Sheen illustrate this by saying:

“It was not enough that the Son of God should come down from the heavens and appear as the Son of Man, for then He would have been only a great teacher and a great example, but not a Redeemer. It was more important for Him to fulfill the purpose of the coming, to redeem man from sin while in the likeness of human flesh. Teachers change men by their lives; Our Blessed Lord would change men by His death. The poison of hate, sensuality, and envy which is in the hearts of men could not be healed simply by wise exhortations and social reforms. The wages of sin is death, and therefore it was to be by death that sin would be atoned for.” 

It’s not to be somber necessarily, but to remember the reason why Jesus came in the first place. He came to save us, and accomplished that by first being born of our Blessed Mother.

We’re told that to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must become like children. And that might seem weird because children don’t know much, right? Sure, in a worldly sense maybe they don’t. But kids have an incredible intuition. And much of the time they can figure out who to trust. There’s a beauty in that vulnerability and weakness that our world despises, because it forces us to abandon our selfishness.

And that’s why Jesus coming as a child is so powerful: there is beauty in weakness. Through it, others are changed by helping those who need help. And those who need help are changed by allowing others to do things for them.

Let’s remember this Advent season that it’s okay to lean on other people, and to allow ourselves to become like children in a way.

Jesus did, and I’d be willing to bet he’s a pretty good role model.

To Life,

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For more advent posts, be sure to check out Beth Anne’s link-up!

Failing and daring to give my best

College is an ideal time to develop your character, talents, and beliefs. For me, the last 2.5 years have been the most challenging of my life. My mind has been stretched farther than it ever had been before, and it continues to be blown by what I’m taught by professors and people that I know. Because of that, I’ve also gone through the most intense personal development of my life on many levels: academically, socially, and spiritually to name a few areas.

It’s been full of ups and downs. Sometimes I feel on top of the world. Sometimes I get frustrated that I haven’t truly been striving for excellence. That’s where I’ve been lately.

There is so much to get done on a daily basis. My to-do list is never ending. And things don’t always happen on time. This means I didn’t always give my best effort.

This is not something I’m okay with.

I constantly talk about greatness – finding your cause to fight for in life, the purpose God made you for. But sometimes I feel like I haven’t been giving enough. Sometime in the last month I was mad about something. Disappointed, maybe? I can’t remember. I was kneeling down before mass and just looking up at Jesus on the cross. And it wasn’t like a choir of angels appeared, but very clearly the thought came into my head: “What more I give you?”

There he was on the cross in front of me, this son of God I claim to love so much and live for. He has given the ultimate sacrifice for me. Personally. He would have died for me if I were the only person on Earth.

And here I am procrastinating.

Again.

It’s gotten better throughout college. I haven’t had to stay up until 3:30am writing a paper like I did freshman year! But still, I hate that things don’t always get done as far ahead of time as they should. So I’ve been trying to figure out what to do to remedy this.

We’re told to be strong and independent all the time, but I am so tired of fighting a battle with myself that feels like I’m on a losing streak. It feels like that because I want to do my best, but my best is hard. We’re all called to holiness, but the path to holiness isn’t paved with lollipops. It is born out of blood, sweat, tears, and a heck of a lot of prayer.

I want to be holy. I want to be the light and salt of the world we’re called to be. I want to respond to Jesus in the only way that really makes sense: with gratitude and reckless abandon to his will.

Maybe I just don’t know how.

You know that strong, independent woman CEO we’re supposed to want to be? Guess what I’ve discovered? She doesn’t really exist. In the end we all need each other. We need to slow down and smell the alfalfa, reflect on what really matters, and direct our lives back to our ultimate goal: heaven. It sure doesn’t feel like homework is the way to get to heaven, but for right now I need to give my all to the efforts God has called me to be part of at the moment.

After all, what more can I possibly dare to give back to Jesus than my very best?

How do you deal with stress? Assignments due all at once? A never-ending to-do list? Please keep everyone approaching finals in your prayers as we get through the last couple weeks of school, and know I’ll be praying for you too!

To Life,

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NAS: How do you pray at home?

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How do you pray at home? Do you have a special place in your house? How do you make that area special? Comfy chair? Prayer cards? What suggestions do you have to make a home altar? If you don’t do this, in what ways can you begin?

~

Does my bed count?

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Okay, maybe that’s weird to post a picture of my bed. But isn’t it comfy looking?! The blanket is from my grandma. Moving on to the point:

Most days I say a rosary before bed. Or as I fall asleep. Hence, the picture. The things on the wall are prayers too. One of them is the Litany of Humility which I still haven’t said because it’s kind of terrifying on some level. And rather intense. So it’s staying put as a reminder to actually say it one day. I’d love to add a sort of examination of conscience to my wall for the end of each day!

When I wake up, I try to remember to say a morning offering. Then I go to workout (most of the time, but it’s getting harder with the cold) and try to remember to say the LIFE Runners creed before starting. When I get back, I try to remember to read the daily readings (usually from Blessed is She or Word Among Us).

Two days a week I have a half hour of adoration, but I’m usually there for about an hour each time because of how it fits into my schedule. Adoration isn’t something I remember doing before college, so it’s been nice the last couple years here! After learning more about prayer, I force myself to not bring a book to adoration and just be with Jesus. It’s pretty awesome. I also usually go to a holy hour on Saturdays. Sometimes I journal during part of that time. And sometimes I read the “I Thirst for You” meditation. But mostly I kneel or sit there and try to not think of my to-do list . . . . which can be hard. Seriously. Does anyone else have that problem? I don’t have a list to write things down, so I just focus on praying and then at the end I realize how easy it is to chill out and just be there when you try.

Other than that, I write down prayer intentions throughout the week and pray specifically for them. I started doing this last year, but this year I started asking for intentions on social media after reading the suggestion. It felt kind of weird at first, but I love it so much to be able to pray for people’s specific needs! Also included in my intentions are random requests and situations I see.

I try to offer up a lot of stuff for other people, and I have found that to be extremely powerful to me. Does it count as a type of prayer? I don’t know. But praying for the souls in purgatory or asking God to use something I’m going through to help someone else is something I love so much.

For almost 10 years, I’ve kept a journal off an on. In the beginning it was mostly the boring details of what happened everyday, but now it’s more prayers and thinking about stuff. Writing helps me figure things out, so that’s another way I pray. Sometimes from the beginning to the end of something, I can already see a situation more clearly. Yay!

In my dorm room I have this shelf:

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I don’t kneel there to pray or anything (though I have heard about having altars in your home which sounds cool!). There’s more on the wall too. It’s just a nice reminder. We also did this to our wall (word of Our Lady of Guadalupe) which keeps a nice atmosphere as well:

Prayer is talking with God, and even though I don’t do a whole lot of organized prayer, it’s an important part of my everyday life. At the beginning of this school year we were challenged to give 30 minutes of undivided time to prayer each day, and I want to get better about that. It doesn’t sound that hard, but it has been! Like exercising which keeps our physical muscles in shape, prayer keeps our spiritual muscles in shape. And I need to start pumping more serious spiritual iron.

Do you have any suggestions for how to make those 30 minutes a habit? Do you pray at specific times of the day? How do you integrate prayer into your life?

To Life,

To Life,

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I’m the boss, so ya’ll can just shut up

Have you seen stuff going around in the last couple months about bossy little girls? This quote definitely had it’s moment in the spotlight getting passed around on social media:

By Sheryl Sandberg

* Cue dramatic music and smiling faces of sassy little girls after reading that quote *

Aren’t you so inspired?

I mean, every little girl who is bossy is obviously a budding leader-in-training! We should encourage them to be the boss and follow their dreams! They should stand up for themselves and take charge! Be ambitious! Be loud and in charge!

Grumpy Cat says it best. When I first started hearing about this whole idea of encouraging bossy girls to embrace their innate leadership capabilities, I was like:

“Why?” you ask. Let’s first take a look at what bossy means:

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Being bossy means I don’t care about about your opinion. It means telling you to do something right this second with no ifs, ands, or buts. It may mean raising my voice to get my point across. It means being powerful in a way, because I can control you. You have no say. It’s treating you as a means to get something done, without respecting your dignity as a person.

And that, my friends, is not okay.

From personal experience (as a person who can be bossy), I can tell you that it hurts people. Everyone deserves to be listened to, and being bossy is the opposite of that by definition. My leadership skills are at their worst when I’m bossy, because it means resorting to my position of authority to get people to do things. But leadership is so much more than that. Having a title is the least important aspect of being a leader, and it becomes wholly unimportant to people who have great leadership capabilities.

Leadership is about being someone people follow – not because they are docile little lambs to fetch you grapes and Italian olives from Venice, but because you have a message they are invested in. You have something to say, maybe something you’re fighting for, and people who have similar motivations are going to join forces with you if you show the ability to take your cause to the next level. Leadership is making a difference and having people lend a hand because they want to, not because you guilt-tripped them into coming, or bribed them with cookies. Believe me, I’ve done that. And it doesn’t work too well because it coerces people to come. It doesn’t empower people to be an integral part of your mission.

When we tell our little princesses that being bossy is okay because it’s just their leadership shining through, we’re telling them a lie. Because, quite frankly, the “light” from bossy people is burning my freaking face off.

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People deserve to be listened to. If I’ve learned anything over the last 1.5 years serving on the leadership team of Ravens Respect Life, this is it (and yes, a lot more). I used to go auto-pilot into “let’s get this done ASAP and since I don’t trust anyone else to do it right I shall do it myself” mode. Nobody told me blatantly to knock it off. Nobody told me it was annoying in all the years of “leadership” throughout high school.

I wish they had.

For years I’ve been a person who doesn’t wait for other people to get things done. Some people would call that ambition or me being a “go-getter”. I certainly am ambitious, but in the last months I’ve realized how messed up this idea of being my big, bad empowered self is. Why? It’s important to make sure people know you value their opinions. Even if you do have the final say, leaders have to let other people contribute to the cause. If they don’t, it becomes a dictatorship: you controlling people, not building a movement together. That doesn’t value other people. It doesn’t build trust. And it certainly doesn’t make anyone a skilled leader.

A skilled leader listens to followers, and you know what? They have amazing ideas . . . things I could never have thought up. They have skills and abilities you are not good at. They just might blow your mind.

The people I’ve worked with have taught me this, and I am so thankful. It’s humbling, and a constant reminder that I am not the boss. And I really don’t want you to shut up. I want to hear your ideas and work with you to make the world a better place. You have ideas I don’t have, and together we can do more than if we went our separate ways.

So, what are we to do about this bossy phenomenon? Instead of praising this attitude of bossiness, let’s teach each other how to value each other (and the people who follow us or we are followers of). Listen. Don’t interrupt. Work together. Read about real leadership: the power to influence other people. Learn how to tell good stories which will inspire people. Be able to empower people to contribute to your cause.

Being a real leader is better than bossing people around. It’s so much more.

To Life,

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The world lost something beautiful

I should really be asleep right now, or working on my 10-page paper due in a few days, but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about Brittany and her family.

A couple weeks ago, talk was that she might postpone her death planned for November 1st since she was still feeling okay. But then she experienced her worst seizure yet after visiting the Grand Canyon. And she took her life on the 1st.

The world lost something beautiful that day.

In reading articles leading up to her death, I discovered that Brittany’s main motivation for wanting to pursue “death with dignity” was that she didn’t want to lose bodily autonomy as her faculties left through her life naturally coming to an end. Becoming powerless in her suffering, more so than the powerlessness of a child perhaps, was seen as a loss of her worth as a human being.

But I say that no matter what the quality of her life, losing her was losing something beautiful that day.

Many people are applauding her “brave” choice. But bravery isn’t about running away from suffering and dying now to avoid more pain later. Now, I can’t even imagine having a terminal illness, so I can’t speak from experience. No one close to me has died because of a terminal illness either. Regardless of that fact, though, what I do know if that suffering is sanctifying.

Sadly, America has forgotten this.

We’ve forgotten that getting scraped up makes us tougher, running the extra mile gives us more endurance, failing makes us learn how to succeed, and that refusing an extra dessert makes us the boss of our willpower. We’ve forgotten that even when someone’s life is no longer contributing to the economy, it still in infinitely valuable. We’ve forgotten the art of discipline. We’ve forgotten the beauty of the older people in our communities who move slower than they used to.

And because of that, America has lost something beautiful

When we applaud someone for taking her own life to escape suffering, we ignore the fact that trial by fire strengthens us. Maybe she would never have gotten better, but do you realize the sacrificial love Brittany’s family would have experienced caring for her in her last days being unable to care for herself? Do we know the graces she would have received through offering her suffering for someone? Do we know the power of her story if she had “taken up her cross” and let the grace of suffering set her heart on fire looking toward heaven?

Oh, how incredibly could her story of ended! But instead we lost something beautiful with so much potential.

I haven’t experienced anything as drastic as Brittany’s situation, but we’ve all suffered at some point. And I’ve seen people go through incredible amounts of pain. I’ve seen people’s lives forever changed in a single instance. And I’ve cried for them, wanting to do something to alleviate the pain. Watching people walk into abortion clinics and knowing they will never be the same hurts. Hearing their stories is hard. I still remember losing my little brother Robert before he was born, and will never forget that. In the movie For Greater Glory, the little boy who is now Blessed Jose Sanchez (I think that’s his name) was caught by the enemy and forced to stand next to a grave. Told to renounce God, he was threatened with death if he did not comply. Then the enemy brought out his parents to watch as the boy refused. And I just sobbed. Seeing Jose’s mom completely helpless as a mother as her son was brutally killed affected me. I’ve never cried harder that I can remember during a movie.

There’s so much evil in the world – so much sadness, anger, and then countless people who are unhappy with their lives. And now I’m sitting here tearing up on my bed after 1:30am like a crazy person. On any given day, I could give you twenty reasons to be in a stinky mood and mad at God. But what I’ve realized is that this is all a choice. We can choose to be upset with what life brings. Or we can face it and own it.

Brittany chose to run away from the cross she was given. I hope you don’t do that. And I’ve been trying harder to face my own life with a heck of a lot of prayer because we need that to get us through some moments. Thankfully we don’t have to do this thing called life on our own, because we’ve got family, friends, and of course Jesus to lean on.

Know that every second of suffering is not meaningless, but infinitely meaningful. Your life? It’s a precious one-time gift no one can ever replace. Whatever happens in your life, it might not be pretty, but there’s always a purpose. We can’t always see it, and oh my goodness would I help take away your pain if I could. I hate seeing people in pain and being helpless. I wish I could dry your tears and say it’s going to go away, but it might not. I can’t necessarily take away you pain.

But what I can do is offer you is hope.

I’m singing a different song than people who are raving about Brittany’s bravery. Suffering is not something to be feared, but rather an opportunity to be sanctified in. Whether it’s a terminal illness, misbehaving child, or person cutting you off on the road, work on handling these inconveniences with grace. Be the voice of reason that says “even if this isn’t comfortable, it’s something I can’t change, so I’m going to accept it and own it the best I can”. Pray about it. Ask for grace. Let your heart be transformed by the vulnerability suffering makes us experience. Let people love you in those times when you are broken and unable to function normally.

Don’t let us lose you, because you are something beautiful. You are unique and unrepeatable. And even if life isn’t perfect, it’s your life. It can never be lived again, so make the most of it. Have hope. And if you’re going through trial by fire in some sort of suffering right now, know this: you can either melt to pieces or be strengthened through this. It’s your choice.

Choose wisely, because your life might depend on it. And we don’t want to lose another something beautiful.

To Life,

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