Let’s imagine, a world in which the unimaginable has happened:

Scientists and doctors prove (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that bacon – real pork bacon, not turkey or tofu “bacon” – real bacon is healthy for us.  They reveal that not only is bacon healthy, but it actually prevents diseases, like cancer and heart disease and MS and MD and all manner of debilitating, fatal diseases that still plague our world despite the best efforts of medical technology.  So scientists and doctors go to great lengths to show us that eating a piece of bacon every day will prevent these diseases.  They create lively, dynamic commercials promoting bacon and its wonderful medicinal properties.  Independent researchers produce reams and reams of studies proving the medicinal effects of pork bacon.  Thus as demand for bacon rises, so too does the price.  Regular people struggle to afford their daily ration of bacon, prescribed by doctors.  So the government proposes a solution.  Instead of putting the burden of paying for pork bacon, with all its medicinal properties, on the people, place it on the organizations and companies for whom the people work.  A law is signed requiring all employers to provide employees with a daily ration of pork bacon.

Anyone see a problem with this “solution”?  What about the Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists for whom eating bacon violates their religious beliefs?  Can the government really force them to purchase a product which violates their right to the free exercise of religion?  So they petition the president, and point out the obvious flaw in his plan.  The president responds (essentially) by saying that no one is forcing individual Jews, Muslims, Hindus or Buddhists to actually consume pork bacon, they just have to purchase it if they do not primarily employee and serve people of the same faith.

Anyone see a problem with this response?  I think (hope) everyone would agree, even the most ardent bacon-lovers, that it is unreasonable to require an individual or organization to purchase a product which violates their religious beliefs.  No one walks into a kosher deli expecting to get a ham and cheese sandwich.  Nor does anyone feel that the kosher deli is in anyway violating their rights by not providing the full range of sandwich meats.  Why?  Because in the United States we believe in the free exercise of religion – that the state does not have the right to either promote or to regulate a particular religion.

And yet, that is exactly what President Obama is doing today.  Re-read by blog post, replacing “pork bacon” with “artificial contraceptives;” “Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists,” with “Catholics and other Christians who believe that life begins at conception”; and “diseases” with “pregnancy.”  Do you see the problem?

Whether you are a good Catholic or staunchly anti-Catholic, whether agree or disagree with the Catholic Church’s teaching on artificial contraception, you must be able to see that forcing an individual or a religious organization to purchase a product which violates their religious beliefs is inherently wrong and a violation of our constitutional rights.

So if you do agree that forcing people to buy products which violate their religious beliefs is unconstitutional then sign this petition: http://wh.gov/kl3

You didn’t really think this was a post about bacon did you?

In my last 5 months as a library, I’ve been asked many questions that begin with “Do you know…”   And I have been happy to answer each and every one of them, often swelling with pride, because while I do not know everything, I do know how to find information on just about everything.

So today when a student came into the library, stopped in front of the desk, looked at me very seriously and asked, in a tone that suggested her question was of the utmost importance, “Do you know how to get a zipper unstuck?”, I couldn’t help laughing.  She immediately plopped her backpack down on the reference desk to show me the zipper in question, and sure enough it was stuck.

I pulled and jerked at it for about 30 seconds before it came unstuck.  Then the student looked at me in complete astonishment, and exclaimed, “How did you do that?!”  I smiled and said, “You have to know these things when you’re a librarian.”

A few years ago when I was working as a first grade assistant at a small Catholic school, I began to get a cold – not surprising as it was the middle of February and I was working with kids for 8 hours a day.  Unfortunately I was a little stubborn both about going to the doctor and about taking sick days.  So for a couple weeks I tried to self-medicate with Dayquil and lots of vitamin C, but it only got worse.  When I finally did call in sick to work, I could barely get out of bed to get dressed.  So my mom had to take me to the doctor.  I had a fever; my head ached; my body ached; I could barely breathe without coughing.  While we were sitting in the waiting room, a young girl in pajamas came in with her mom.  The girl looked about as sick as I felt, but she had brought a flannel blanket with her.  She wrapped herself in it and the laid her head in her mother’s lap.  I was more than a little jealous.  That little girl had come prepared to wait.  And I hadn’t even had my morning coffee.

There was something truly humbling about being sick in that waiting room.  There I was an adult and my mom had to take me to the doctor.  The nurses looked at me with pity, and the healthy people looked at me with fear, hoping that whatever I had was not transmutable through air.  And what’s worse was that I knew it was my own fault that I had let myself get that sick.  So there I was waiting, and I realized that despite how miserable I felt, there was a little glimmer of hope – hope that the doctor would know what was wrong with me and give me medicine – hope that within the next few days my fever would break, my head and body would stop aching and I would be able to breathe freely through both nostrils.

Advent reminds me of that waiting room.  Here we are sick and weak usually through our own stubbornness or pride – waiting – waiting with a glimmer of hope for Christ to come and heal our souls.

Happy Advent!

“Let us be who we are and be that well, in order to bring honor to the Master Craftsman whose handiwork we are.” –St. Francis de Sales

The Catholic high school where I began working in August is under the patronage of St. Francis de Sales.  The school tries to integrate Salesian spirituality into all aspects of school life.  So I over the past couple months, I have learn a lot about St. Francis de Sales.  First and most importantly to me at least, he is also the patron saint of writers.  (Clearly, God knows I need St. Francis’ intercession in my writing.  I’d also like to take this moment to beg the forgiveness of my 2 readers who have been daily checking my blog for updates for over a month.  The only excuse I can is that working with high school kids is much more emotionally draining than I ever imagined.  Pray for your high school teachers!)

St. Francis de Sales taught that everyone is called to holiness.  The quote above is the motto for the school, and as teachers we are encouraged to help the students learn who they are.  Be who are you are and be that well.  It sounds so simple, but in practice being who you are can be difficult.  I remember when I was a junior in high school, my religion teacher made us all write a couple paragraphs in response to the question, “Who are you?”  In the end I think my answer was something like “I don’t know yet.”

It’s been almost ten years since I answered that question in high school, and only now am I really learning how to be who am (and trying really hard to be that well).  However, it’s the second part of this quote that really strikes me – “in order to bring honor to the Master Craftsman whose handiwork we are.”  We have to have a purpose.  It’s difficult to be who we are, especially in a culture in which we are constantly bombarded with ads telling us we’re not good enough as we are so we need product x to make us better.  So it’s difficult, but not impossible, in fact when our purpose is to honor God, all things are possible, even being who you are.

I don’t expect an answer on my blog, but when you have a moment to yourself, see if you can answer that question, “Who are you?”

This morning I literally rolled myself out of bed at 6 am and began to get ready for work.  It was still dark outside.  And it was still raining, as it has been for the last three days without ceasing.  When I got in my car and turned on the radio, I heard that Fairfax County schools were closed due to flooding, and vaguely remembered that the Catholic school where I work followed Fairfax County school closing for snow days; however, as I didn’t see any flooding while driving, the school is on top of hill, and I was half-way there already, I drove the rest of the way to find an empty parking lot and a dark school building.

As I was driving home, I mentally added “excess rain” to the list of natural weather occurrences that the DC metro area is completely incapable of handling, along with moderate earthquakes, small hurricanes, snow, thunderstorms, a strong breeze, etc.

Anyways as I was regretting drinking my strong cup of coffee that would now prevent me from crawling back into bed, I was reminded of a conversation, I had with a friend the other night.  She was telling me about a game she played with a childhood friend, in which they each had to describe their faith life in 6 words.  Naturally, curiosity spurred me on to ask her what her 6 words were.  She told me.  Then she turned the question on me.

I hesitated for moment.  Thought about it. Counted the words on my fingers.  Internally debated with myself whether or not to really say it.  Then the words just came out of my mouth:  “Attempting total abandonment to God’s will.”

“Attempting” is the keyword there I think.  Anyways, as it is apparently God’s will that I not go to work today, I can think of nothing more useful to do than to turn the question on you.  How would you describe your faith life in 6 words?

As a self-professed bibliophile, I thought it was about time to write a little book review.  While in Guyana, one of the sisters pulled this book, He Leadeth Me, off the shelf of their library and began going on and on about this Jesuit priest, Father Ciszek, who spent 20 years in a Soviet prison.  Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I decided that I just had to read this book before I left Guyana, so I did (well tried to at least).

First, some background on Father Ciszek: He was a Jesuit priest, who in the 1930s volunteered to go to Russia as a missionary.  He was sent to Rome to study Russian and the Eastern Rite.  Finally in 1940, he entered the Soviet Union.  Less than a year later, he was arrested as a Vatican spy and placed in solitary confinement for 5 years in the “dreaded”  Lubianka prison.  During that time he was often pulled in for interrogations, some of which lasted for 48 hours without a break.  Eventually he was sentenced to 15 years in a Siberian work camp.  In the camp, he and thousands of other “criminals” spent 12-14 hours a day doing manual labor in freezing weather.  Each worker had to meet a certain quota in order to receive meals.  If a worker failed to meet his quota, he didn’t eat.  If he surpassed his quota, he received extra food; however, if he surpassed his quota too often, then his quota would be raised, forcing him to work more for less food.  Despite the degrading living conditions and long work days, Father Ciszek continued to hear confessions and say mass, having to distribute the hosts secretly.   When he was finally released from the work camp, he was told that he was still not allowed to leave Russia and was sent to Norlisk.

So if I haven’t piqued your interest yet…the book contains an incredibly moving account of his spiritual journey through all these hardships and difficulties.  It’s about his constant struggle to abandon his will to God’s even when he suffering the worst of human indignities.  Written with the humility of a saint, the book is a powerful testament of finding inner peace through total and complete trust in God.

During my first week in Guyana, we were busy preparing for Girls Camp.  Every year the sisters take about 50 girls from the 9 communities camping for a week.  The sisters beg for donations of food and other supplies so that the girls can go camping for the low price of 0 dollars.  So early Monday morning of my second week in Guyana we loaded up a truck and drove out to Hot and Cold Lake.

The sisters split the girls up into 4 teams which would compete for points throughout the week.  Points were given for winning sports games and contests as well as demonstrating virtues, like generosity, determination, fortitude, etc.  I was a team leader for the yellow team, with St. Francis Cabrini as our patron.   The other teams: red team with St. Therese of Lisieux as their patron, blue team with Blessed Mother Theresa, and green team with Blessed Marianne Cope.  The theme for Girls Camp, Guyana, 2011 was “Go out to all the world and tell the good news.”  And our patron saints, all missionaries, certainly lived that theme when they were here on earth.

Girls Camp was the most fun and the most exhausting week.  It was non-stop games and sports and swimming and cheering and singing and skits.  Every day one of the priests came out to the lake to say mass for us.  Some days we had mass in the morning and others at sunset.  Getting to celebrate the mass outside in front of this beautiful lake was an amazingly peaceful experience.  And after a long day of running and playing sports, it was such a blessing for all of us to come together to celebrate the mass.

I was so blessed to really get to know some of the girls, as throughout the week they became less and less shy.  Some of the girls really opened up to me, and it was so wonderful to get know them better.

I recently returned from my month long adventure in living in a convent in the little village of Charity on the Essequibo Coast, Guyana.  It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  Every moment there was a blessing from God.  And I’m so excited to share some of what I experienced there.

I arrived in Georgetown, Guyana at 6 am after taking a red-eye out of JFK.  After getting through an 11/2 hour customs line, I was greeted by Mother J and Sister A who had been patiently waiting for me.  Then, we took a taxi to the Essequibo River (about an hour away).  Then we took a boat to the other side of the river, got in another taxi for another hour drive to Charity.  Along the way Mother J talked to me about Guyana and the mission and some of the challenges they face.

Right now, the Sisters’ apostolate work is supporting the parish, teaching catechism, youth group, visiting the sick, etc.  The parish, however, includes 9 communities spread out along the Essequibo Coast and along the Pomeroon River.  And there are only 2 priests for this parish, which means each community can only hear mass once or twice a month.  Each community has a couple very dedicated individuals who lead service on Sundays and take responsibility for the maintenance and upkeep of the church itself.  Their commitment to the church and the community was truly touching.  After working all week, some would spend their Saturdays cleaning the church and cutting the bush grass around the church which grew “fast fast.”

Besides a serious priest shortage, many of the children the sisters minister to come from broken families.  Mother J. remarked that on house visits, I might notice that the men of the family were absent.  This is because for many families the best way to earn money is for the husbands and older sons to work in the mines in the interior.  They will be away for several months at time, coming home for 1 or 2 weeks at a time, if they come back at all.  Perhaps as a result of this, most of the children, especially the girls are very shy.

We arrived at the convent just in time for siesta, after which I got to go with one of the sisters to make house visits and take Holy Communion to the sick.  This ministry was one of my favorites.  It was so humbling to see how the people welcomed us into their homes.  Many of the women would greet me, a complete stranger, with a hug or a kiss on the cheek.  I was there with the sisters, so they saw me as a friend and welcomed me into their homes.

More to come soon…

I was a little slack about taking pictures, but here's one showing the path we took for a house visit.

I’m leaving for Guyana today, and surprisingly have not had a “freak-out moment” yet. I tried to pack light and for hot, humid weather. However, according to Weather.com, the heat index in Guyana is about the same as Charleston, so I should feel right at home!

I’m going to try my best to keep my blog updated with lots of pictures of course, but  I have no idea how often I’ll have access to the internet.

St. Raphael the Archangel (patron of travelers), pray for us!

 

From the time I was about 3 or 4 until I was 13 years old, a large portion of my free time was spent doing gymnastics.  I was never particularly great at the sport, but I loved it and was willing to work hard to gain new skills.  I remember when I was about 7 or 8 years old, my team hosted a small meet.  It was so small that there were only two other girls (both my teammates) in my level and age bracket to compete against.  And that was always one of the odd things about gymnastics – more often than not, you were competing against your friends and teammates.

So when I got 3^rd place in every event including the balance beam which was my most favorite and best event, I was a little disappointed.  Third place.  There were only three competitors, and I was third.    It was all I could do to smile for my teammates and congratulate them, when I was inwardly very upset.  I wanted to win.  I wanted to be first.

I thought about that incident, yesterday morning at mass when a seminarian gave the homily.  He was talking about the Gospel reading on the greatest commandment and shared with us a mantra of sorts among a group of Catholic athletes:  “I am third.”

God is first.
Others are second.
I am third.

I was blown away. “I am third.”  It’s such a powerful statement, and so countercultural.  How many times as a young athlete did I think about winning that 1^st place medal?  And how proud was I the few times I did win a first place medal?  And how many times was I disappointed in myself when I did not win that first place medal?  I wanted to go back in time and tell my 7 year-old self  “see being third isn’t so bad.”  But I doubt she would have listened.  Like every other young girl on my team, I wanted to win.

So it made me wonder how other athletes and former athletes feel about “I am third.”  Have you heard of this saying before?  If not do you think it would have helped you though all the successes and failures in whatever sport you did?