Reflections on Mercy

In this is mercy: that our suffering is not wasted if we unite it to Christ's. There is always reason for it, be it our own purification or the reparation of sins - ours or those of another.

We are never left abandoned to suffering without recourse. God is always present and always provides the grace necessary to carry the cross in union with His Son. Perhaps this is why so many crosses, so many sorrows, in my own life have occured around these great feasts - the Sacred and Immaculate Hearts - because there is abundant grace available to those who venerate the two Hearts.

"I will comfort them in their trials," the Lord says of those who are devoted to His Most Sacred Heart. And in the Diary of Divine Mercy He speaks words of comfort, reminding me that He alone is the Savior: "My daughter, let nothing frighten or disconcert you. Remain deeply at peace. Everything is in My Hands."

The Gift of a Penny

Because I'm a Catholic nerd and my housemate is a Catholic nerd, one of the items on our summer bucket list is to visit every parish within a twenty mile radius of our house. (At this point, we've been to Mass at six of them.)

This past Sunday, we went to Mass at Blessed Sacrament parish. Bry was driving, so I didn't bother to bring anything along with me and blissfully walked out of the house - purse, key, and cell phone free. When we reached the stop sign at the end of the block, I realized that because I hadn't brought my purse, I didn't have my wallet. Which meant that I couldn't tithe. I had no money.

I was disappointed in myself. Earlier in the week I was thinking about the fact that I want to get back into the habit of tithing (the Biblical concept of giving ten percent of your income to the Lord) now that I get a regular paycheck. But I forgot.

When we arrived at the church and knelt down in the pew, I noticed something shiny on the floor, so I bent to pick it up. It was a brand new penny. God provided me with one little penny to put in the offering basket. I placed the penny on the bench beside me to wait until the offertory. As I placed the nearly worthless coin into the basket, I felt like the widow in the Gospel who put all that she had into the Temple offering. It was a humbling experience.

This penny was a sign to me that my Father was pleased with the desire of my heart to give Him a gift. And when I had nothing to give Him, He provided me with the gift. Truly, He will not be outdone in generosity!

"His blessing covers the dry land like a river, and drenches it like a flood."

-Sirach 39:22

Adventures - Part One

Spending your summer in the same city as your university, a city that pretends to be a college town but really isn’t and that is known only by one of two things—your university or the rape case that made national news—doesn’t sound very promising. But really, it’s not that bad. There are adventures to be had here…

At the beginning, the small adventures of starting utilities, paying rent, and figuring out how much food to buy at the grocery store were enough to keep me occupied and overwhelmed for a week or two. Now that these grown-up adventures are a regular part of the schedule of work, eat, and sleep, I’ve had some time to realize that the best adventures so far have come not from being an adult, but simply from being young, wild, and free with plenty of time and very little money on my hands.

A local hiking trail in a West Virginia state park has become one of my favorite refuges, and although I’ve only ever walked to the mile and a half point—a swimming hole in the next-door creek—I fully intend to walk further down the trail before the end of the summer.

Or sometimes when Bry, my housemate, and I get restless and neither of us feels like driving the seven minutes to the trail, we will drive three minutes to one of the nearby cemeteries and go walking or jogging there. “It’s so weird to me that cemeteries are something beautiful to walk through around here,” she says. Apparently Southern Californian cemeteries lack the beauty of small town Ohio cemeteries.

I laugh at Bry’s comment and soak up the beauty of the peach-colored sunset between three sentinel oak trees that are probably older than the town itself. The cemetery is enchanting in the dim dusk-light and I can almost imagine little fairies dancing in the woods over there or hear goblin men’s footsteps as they come to hawk their fruits.

But the “scope for imagination” isn’t why I like coming here. No. It’s a fondness for thinking about the people who are buried here and whispering a small and childish prayer that they are sleeping peacefully. I read their names, turning them over like a hard strawberry candy in my mouth, and the joyful hope rises in my chest that one day I will meet them all, that I will see their beautiful and ugly faces, and that I will hear their stories of life and the road to heaven. When I’m here they seem very near to me. It’s like visiting long-lost friends.

Of A Lack of TP and Other Nonsense

Yesterday I discovered the one thing that has the ability to make me grumpy first thing in the morning: a complete toilet paper deficiency in my house. It wasn't just a toilet paper shortage. No. There was not one sheet of TP in the entire house. I can live without coffee or in grave circumstances, even breakfast. But yesterday morning I would not endure living without toilet paper, so I promptly took myself across town to the local Wal-Mart.

Now we have toilet paper again and I have enough dryer sheets to last me for a year. They're hypoallergenic. Yeah yeah…big deal.

In other news, I'm beginning to think that I may never need to water my plants this summer. It rains here, on average, every twenty-four hours. Three of my six tomato plants started to blossom this week, and the pepper plants are getting nice and tall. Hooray! Fresh vegetables will soon be appearing in my own backyard.

Since I don't have to take time out of my day (or evening) to worry about watering the plants, I can spend more time perfecting my Dutch Blitz skillz. I think Dutch Blitz is the most addictive card game ever, but maybe that's just because I can never beat my housemate when I play against her…

When Dutch Blitz stresses me out too much (or when there's nobody to play it with), I usually pick up a book and start reading. As a kid I devoured books, probably finishing two or three every week. I remember always going to the library during the summertime and checking out a nice healthy stack of books (approximately 5-8). My efficacy as an avid summertime book reader has greatly diminished. I have only finished one book so far this summer, even though I've started at least five. (Well, I guess I've finished two books if you count the one I had to read for work.) But the loss of my book-ravaging has come with a gain - the desire to spend more time with what I'm reading and to really understand it.