Well, we’ve made it to Illinois! Though the move wasn’t too far, mileage speaking, it was far enough that we are having to reset many aspects of our life. In the next few weeks, we will be finding new doctors, dentists, playgrounds… pretty much everything. We keep checking things off the list, but new things get added as well. They all keep telling me it will settled down at some point. And I will choose to believe them. I look forward to the day when all the big stuff is done. But we are here. And that’s a good start.
So here’s a little update on the goings-on of This Catholic Family, now of Illinois.
Donuts After Mass
We think we’ve found a parish! St. Raphael the Archangel. It’s a gorgeous church built of multiple old churches, just a few minutes from our house. I have grown to love beautiful churches so much in the past few years, and this one just felt right for our family, almost as soon as we walked in. The beauty is there, and the history, and the hope of something new. They are still installing the stained glass windows, and have additional work to to in finishing the build of the church so we feel like we are a part of a beautiful beginning, but also something that has roots.
One of the things we were going to miss about moving was our family tradition of donuts after Mass. We would go to O+H Danish Bakery in Racine frequently after Mass for donuts. As we were preparing to move, I looked and couldn’t find a bakery in our area that would quite feel the same. St. Raphael’s, it turns out, offers donuts and fellowship time in the basement of the church each and every Sunday. And you can bet we’ve checked it out! I wish more parishes had something like this, and I am so thankful St. Raphael’s does. It’s helped us get to know a few people already. We are optimistic about joining our family life with the life of this new parish.
Emptiness = Potential
There’s a lot of empty in this house right now. Empty walls, waiting to be painted then filled up with art and pictures. Empty rooms waiting for furniture to arrive. And the emptiness that comes from living in a space you haven’t made many memories in yet, which feels a bit lonely at times. But that kind of emptiness is also filled with potential. The potential for all the memories that we are going to make. It’s been helping me during this transition to pay attention to when a new memory shows up in this new town, in this new home we are forming for ourselves.
A few examples:
When the kids came to the the house for the first time after we moved, they ran and squealed as they went to find their new rooms, and checked out the space. The kids have their own rooms now, but August went right to Felicity and said “My door is always open.” It was so sweet.
There’s one.
A huge rainstorm came through. We can see a lot of sky from our front yard, and when the rain passed, the dark purple rainclouds brushed away to more open skies with streaks of clouds containing every color of the rainbow. The burnt orange sun slipped down toward the horizon, and I stood outside in that salty, warm air, and saw a sunset I would have never been able to see from outside our old house. JP joined me outside and we just stared at it for a while together. I could have looked at that sunset forever.
There’s one.
This weekend we had a family movie night, and watched The Greatest Showman with the kids. At the end credits everyone was dancing and twirling around the family room until we were all pretty dizzy.
There’s one.
Slowly, but surely, this empty house will fill up. With furniture, with kids projects from school, with pictures on the wall. And with memories. This will be the house we think of first when we tell our family’s story. The emptiness of this space has so, so much potential.
And we found a way to still have donuts after Mass. 🙂
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
I think we’ve all seen or heard someone make a joke about “Catholic Guilt” at one point or another.
This article explores what Catholic Guilt is, really. And if it’s actually funny. Or, on the other hand, if it a misrepresentation of something meant for our good.
What is Sin?
It’s important to get on the same page about sin before we even attempt to talk about this issue. Let’s turn to the Catechism to get our definition.
1849Sin is an offense against reason, truth, and right conscience; it is failure in genuine love for God and neighbor caused by a perverse attachment to certain goods. It wounds the nature of man and injures human solidarity. It has been defined as “an utterance, a deed, or a desire contrary to the eternal law.”121
1850 Sin is an offense against God: “Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done that which is evil in your sight.”122Sin sets itself against God’s love for us and turns our hearts away from it.Like the first sin, it is disobedience, a revolt against God through the will to become “like gods,”123 knowing and determining good and evil. Sin is thus “love of oneself even to contempt of God.”124 In this proud self- exaltation, sin is diametrically opposed to the obedience of Jesus, which achieves our salvation.125
(emphasis mine)
Using this definition, I often break down the idea of sin to conclude it is any time where I choose to serve myself rather than another. It’s desiring my perceived good over my actual good. It’s refusing to love. And in refusing love, I am refusing God because God is Love itself.
Sin wounds my relationship with God, because I’m actively rejecting Him. It hurts my soul. It makes me sick.
When I think about sin now, I think about any one of us, if we gave in freely to our own passions, distorted from God’s good intent, might even find ourselves on earth in our own sort of personal hell.
Sin is serious business. But, thankfully, that’s not the end of the story.
My Protestant Practice
Before becoming Catholic, I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the ways I rejected or blocked God (Love) out of my life. Some of the churches I attended would have a moment for such reflections. But it was usually just that, a moment. And, to be honest, in those moments I most often thought “meh- I think I’m doing pretty good, comparatively speaking.” I shake my head at my past self now. And I’m still not exactly sure who I was comparing myself to… those convicted of crimes against humanity? The people in pews beside me, as some sort of holiness version of keeping up with the Joneses? Just the general sense that, in the grand scale of humanity, I was doing okay?
And then the service would move on and I would move on and I continue along my merry way. I knew I could ask God for forgiveness, but as someone who had come from a Once Saved, Always Saved tradition (for much of my life), I didn’t have an ingrained sense that my confession mattered. I had ‘invited Jesus into my heart’ as a child. And if you are Once Saved, Always Saved, then the moment you say that prayer, it’s a done deal.
Now, you can read more about how I learned that perspective didn’t fit with my actual life experience in my Coming Home Network conversion story by clicking here, but suffice it to say, I had accepted Jesus as a child, then possibly crossed over into rejecting Him as a young adult before I made my way back through the Catholic Church.
I learned through that journey that my choices do matter. They have eternal impact. And yes, everything good I do is by the grace of God, but I’m not an automaton. God can work through me to show his love and healing to this world, but He needs my yes to do it.
And so I’d better pay attention to the areas in my life where I’m letting Love in, and also to the areas in my life where I’m not.
The Value in Examining Our Conscience
I worry about the fading of the concept of confession in general as the trees of Christian separation continue to branch farther and farther away from their historical roots. And I have personally found immense value in examining my conscience on a regular basis, followed by a good Confession.
But first, what is an Examination of Conscience?
An Examination of Conscience is a beautiful exercise we do as Catholics, where we take stock of our lives and our heart. We spend time praying about and thinking about the areas where we are letting God (Love) lead the way, and the areas where we are turning from Him (Love) and choosing to serve ourselves first. We take an honest look at where we are being selfish, or prideful, or fearful, or careless, or impatient, or any number of things.
There are many ways to examine our conscience. Click here for a link to some excellent resources that walk you straight through the entire process.
But we don’t just leave it there when we’re done. We aren’t meant to just acknowledge our shortcomings and sit around feeling bad about ourselves. We know we have the ability to make a change. We can grow in virtue and holiness. We can turn our “No” to God, into a resounding “Yes.”
Once we have examined ourselves, we are ready to make a Confession.
Confession is so many things. But one thing it is not. It is not a rote recital of our wrongs just for the sake of checking an item off a list.
It is a Healing Sacrament. And for good reason.
When we go to Confession, we sit before a Priest, who is standing in place of Jesus for us. We share with him those struggles we identified in ourselves. And we receive, not only God’s forgiveness to us, but we also receive penance, our medicine to help heal the wounds created by our sin.
We leave Confession with the Grace of God to continue to say yes to Him. And if and when we fail, we know Confession is always there, to help us right our path. To help us to learn to love others better than we could on our own. To help sanctify us, and to flood us with God’s Amazing Grace so we can effectively live as His hands and feet.
Back to Catholic Guilt
Nothing about the Catholic Church desires for us to hobble around, eternally burdened by our shortcomings. And long story short, anyone who has been haunted by Catholic Guilt in their life, has taken these beautiful practices meant for our own good, for our own healing, and for whatever reason, allowed them to become distorted.
When I’m carrying some burdens inside my heart, I might know it’s time to go to Confession. So I just set up a time and go. I know I want to let as much of God (Love) into my life as possible, and if I can be honest with myself about when I’m not doing that, then I can experience healing and let His Grace help me make different choices.
There’s a huge difference between the conviction we need to make something right, and then doing something to heal what we’ve broken, and the notion of “Catholic Guilt.” Guilt, when left to its own devices and void of the connection to healing, can turn us inward and makes us focus dangerously on ourselves. And when we focus on ourselves, we are entering a realm that is unhealthy for our souls. We are entering the realm of sin.
So, no, Catholic Guilt isn’t funny. It’s actually probably a sign that someone has experienced pain in some form or another inside the Church, and have not yet found their way to the healing. If we know people who struggle with this, or who have left the Church because of it, it is so vital that we live Grace in our own lives. Forgiveness in our own lives. The joy of healing in our own lives.
We have the opportunity to be an example to those who misunderstand our faith, to those who are seeking, and to those who might be confused. Let us be an example of the Church’s beauty as we seek, more and more each and every day, to choose Love.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
It’s been a bit quiet over here on the blog for the past few weeks. A great sadness entered into my family’s life on February 4th, and it’s taken me a while to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. It didn’t seem right to write about anything else besides this, and I felt stuck until I could find the words. But I think I might have some now.
I had a very cool aunt named Jeannine. She used to live in New York City. She was 47 years old. And, due to a very tragic mixture of difficult circumstances and struggles, my very cool aunt chose to end her life on the evening of February 4th.
There has been an ocean of sadness as our family copes with this loss. I have never been so closely touched by suicide, and I hope to never experience this pain again. I know in time the acuteness of the suffering will fade, but the struggle and sadness from this loss will last a lifetime.
We’re left with so many unanswered questions. We know she struggled with addiction, and mental distress, and that she searched for good, but lost herself sometimes along the way. We just never in a million years would have expected it to come to this. We will deeply miss the beautiful person she was, and mourn the memories that will never be made.
Right now, I’m thankful for the moments of good. The snuggles from my kids. An evening eating chocolate and watching a TV show and talking with my husband. A moment at work where I am helpful to a teacher. Writing words.
But in it all, I have not felt close to God. And I think it’s important to be honest about that, because it is the reality of my current situation.
How odd this is all happening during Lent. I told a friend recently that I identify more with Jesus’ 40 days in the desert now than I ever have. Lent feels like a desert to me. Dry and barren and merciless. I see mirages in the distance. Moments when I forget this happened, and imagine my aunt is still out there, somewhere I could visit or give her a call. But, like mirages, the moments fade and in the sunlight, our new reality is blindingly clear.
I may not feel like God is near, I may not feel close to Him. But that doesn’t mean He isn’t there. God doesn’t exist or not exist depending on me.
So, right now, I’m going to Mass. I’m saying prayers. And none of this is because I feel it is true. It’s because I believe it is true regardless of how I feel.
I look forward to the day when I’ve emerged from these tumultuous seas. But it’s a process. And I trust my God is patient. And there. Whether I feel Him or not.
He doesn’t change like I do. And I know He won’t let me go.
On Easter Vigil, I will be at Mass, standing with my mother as her sponsor as she is confirmed into the Catholic Church.
And oh, I hope and pray that the power of Easter Sunday breaks through me. That it finds its way past the numbness and the anger and the pain. That the power of the hope of all things one day being made right will reverberate inside me and settle in my soul. For my aunt, and for us all. The hope that she is at peace, tucked safely in the arms of Love Itself. And that those of us left reeling from this loss will find our way back there as well.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
There is a disease rampant in our world today. A disease called “What’s Best for Me.”
Entertainment programs are filled with tips on how to make our lives better. How to get the best deal. How to make ourselves look good. How to advance in our careers. How to make more money. How to improve our existence.
And we absorb that culture, particularly if we live in a part of the world where we are saturated with it. Unless we actively counteract the messages we receive, they absorb into us, and we end up reflecting the approach of the world instead of the approach of our faith. Unlike what we see and read and hear every day, happiness isn’t found in improving our lives and seeking our benefit. The Catholic Church teaches that happiness is found in seeking to improve the lives of others, through a sacrificial donation of self.
If we are married, love is to will the good of our spouse. If we are parents, to love is to will their good too. Whatever phase of life, to love is to will the good of those we encounter.
It rings so true when we hear it, but it’s so different from the culture we live in! And it is less easy to apply to our relationships each and every day than it seems. But if we live our faith, if we put our energies into absorbing the truths the Catholic Church teaches, living as gift becomes more and more natural, more and more a part of how we function and view the world. Our lives become all the more beautiful for it.
Being Gift in Choosing Life
Our parish Knights of Columbus just distributed baby bottles for us to collect change in, and that will go towards Right to Life causes. The tragedy of abortion is great in our world, and this is another example of where so many have bought into the lie of What’s Best for Me so much, that they are willing to support the legal right to end a human life.
The reality is that women have this awesome opportunity to live our lives as gift in a way unique from men. We give our bodies as a sacrifice to grow and nurture life. And pregnancy and raising children is, indeed, a big sacrifice.
But we have an amazing example of bodily donation as gift for another in Jesus.
Jesus lived as the ultimate and perfect self-gift. His own words, which we hear at each and every Mass, are: “This is my body, given for you.” He gave his whole self for us, and it’s a beautiful parallel to what happens when a woman sets aside her own comfort to bring life into the world.
“This is my body” is such a popular phrase in pro-choice culture. But they distort the beautiful meaning of the phrase. Those who fight for legal abortion say, “This is my body, and I get to do what I want with it. No one has the right to stop me.” Jesus says, “This is my body, and I am going to give of myself fully to turn the power of sin on its head and to heal the world.”
There is a clear winner between the two uses of that phrase. In goodness, in beauty, and in the truth of what our bodies are meant to be.
Living as Gift is life-giving. Living for self is life-taking, sometimes in the very real and literal sense in issues like abortion. But also, in the sense that each time we choose self over another, we take the essence of life – truth, beauty, love, from those we wound with our sin.
Living as Gift within Marriage
I spent more years than I’m proud of watching the popular TV show, The Bachelor.
That show sends the message that love is meant to make us feel good. That it’s exciting and thrilling. There is the unspoken belief that love will be like that forever. Like a fairy tale, it will make me feel good forever.
It sets up extremely unrealistic, unhealthy expectations. Nothing about even the concept of that show is willing the good of the other – one person dating upwards of 20 men or women at one time is not good for anyone involved. That’s one of the reasons I won’t watch the show anymore.
It’s distorted. It’s sending a lie about love. It perpetuates a belief that I can do what’s best for me, no matter how many people get hurt in the process.
If we understand what the Church teaches about love and Catholic marriage, the idea of Gift is one of the keys to living a marriage that stands as witness to God’s love for humanity. This occurs when the husband and wife are living as Gift to each other in all areas of the marriage.
When we encounter any situation with our spouse, and we ask the question “Am I doing this for his/her good?” we are letting God into our decision with our spouse. Before we say that sharp word, before we lose our patience, before we assume the worst, we can think about our partner’s good.
This applies in a special and beautiful way to our sexuality, too. Catholic teaching on sexuality isn’t meant to be repressive, and it isn’t without reason. The things we are not allowed to use/do in Catholic marriage – contraception, climax without intercourse, pornography, etc., are all forms of believing the “What’s Best for Me” lie. Contraception says “I’m going to give myself to you, but I’m not going to give myself fully.” Climax without intercourse says “I’m going to take from you, rather than give myself to you.” And pornography says “I’m going to take pleasure without giving anything at all.”
But when we live as Gift, when we respect the whole person of our spouse, including our fertility, when we give mutually and fully to each other, each and every time, that is where the beauty lies. The joy of sex isn’t in finding the best way to feel good for ourselves. It’s in mutually seeking the good of the other in an all-encompassing and powerful way. A way that mirrors the life of the Trinity and foreshadows heaven.
A Disease of Humanity and the Cure
Reaching for goals and working to improve are all positive things. But when those things are distorted, and we start pursuing our own betterment even when it is to the detriment of others, then we do have a problem. When we seek our own comfort first, or own best first, when we forget to be Gift to those around us, then we have become sick.
If we live with a What’s Best for Me mindset, we will never be as happy as we could be. We will never have the peace we could have. We will never find the joy. We weren’t meant to be satisfied with the things of this world. We were meant to be satisfied with God. It follows that living life as God intended will bring us the greatest true fulfillment.
The ultimate way we can serve God is by living our lives as a gift in gratitude to our Creator. All of the above examples help to lead us in that direction. The realization that our lives are, ultimately, not our own, that each and every day is a gift from God helps us release any false control we have tried to cling to. None of this is ours. Life is gift from God. It’s meant to be lived as Gift to God and others.
The Me First disease is more than just an American problem. It’s a humanity problem. A result of original sin, when Adam and Eve were the first to believe the lie that eating the fruit was what was best for them and their own personal goals and advancement.
But the Church gives us this beautiful remedy to the sickness. The remedy for the poison that is What’s Best for Me is a firm commitment to What’s Best for You, to living life as Gift. It turns selfishness to selflessness, greed to generosity, and taking to giving. Living life as gift reverses the darkness of sin and let’s God’s light shine through. That is a powerful witness to a world that has absorbed a dangerous lie.
For more information on living life as “Gift,” please see John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, or check out Theology of the Body for Beginners by Christopher West.
Note: This article was originally published on Catholic Stand.
Things I thought would happen after I told people I was becoming Catholic:
People would ask “why,” then sit, leaning forward, eyes wide as I told the whole story. The story of all my misconceptions, and all the truth and beauty I’d found. They’d ask questions to better understand, and they’d start seeking answers for themselves.
Lines would form outside RCIA.
Things would be said. Things like: “Wait, that’s actually what the Catholic Church believes? That’s nothing like I thought. That sounds awesome. How can I learn more?”
The Reality
Well… as excited as I was… things didn’t happen like I dreamed. I laugh about it now. Things didn’t even come close.
Things were said. Words were used like ‘concern,’ ‘different gospel,’ and ‘not Christian.’ The occasional, and very welcome ‘I’m happy for you” was said as well.
But few people asked ‘why.’ Very few people were curious to hear the story of how I’d come to this place. It was a story I wanted so badly to tell.
I wanted to share with everyone all the answers I had found to questions that had burned inside me for years.
I was so excited. But how would I tell my story? And to whom? I would be lying if I said I wasn’t discouraged at that time. I finally had something I wanted to shout from the rooftops. But at times it felt like there was no one around for miles and miles.
So, I changed my proverbial tune.
I started the Protestant Interrupted blog to document the process, and to process the process as I went through it. I had JP’s family, and some of my own, as a sounding board. But a lot of the journey was walked through relatively alone, for both JP and I.
I love writing. And I found I loved writing about my faith. So, after Confirmation, I continued to write. We transitioned to this blog and I shared my story in snippets over the course of several months. At first to a couple of dozen people, give or take. Then, to a few more.
I tried to find local avenues to share my story. But the doors there didn’t open like I had hoped. So I continued to write about my faith.
And I stopped worrying about it. I developed something akin to patience (at least in this area), and I just wrote what was on my heart, when my heart needed to share. There was a lot of peace in that as I began to trust God to use my words in whatever way he chose.
An Unexpected Roof
But then, I received an unexpected email. It was The Coming Home Network gauging my interest in being a guest on the EWTN program The Journey Home. I sent back an email, and waited a couple of months. The CHN was publishing my written conversion story in their newsletter at the end of the year. That was cool in and of itself. It was a way for me to share my story with others who were following or had followed a similar road.
I felt so thankful for that. Those stories were huge for me on my own journey, and I hoped my path would be an encouragement to others as well.
But then I got another email. The Coming Home Network wanted to set up a date for me to fly out and film the show. We filmed in December and the episode aired December 18, 2017.
How This Happened
Let me be very clear. None of this is because of me.
It’s because I trusted God and didn’t push things when the timing wasn’t right. I wasn’t scrambling, I wasn’t stressed, I wasn’t pushing any doors open that weren’t meant for me.
It’s because God’s timing is better than my own. He had something in mind for my story, that I couldn’t have even imagined.
It’s because God knew it would be wise to let me settle into the faith a bit, as the distance and time helped give me perspective on all that happened, and to be better able to reflect. To see that I wasn’t actually ever alone. God was in it every step of the way, from my infancy and on into forever.
And so here I sit, in awe and in gratitude that He chose to use my story in any way at all.
Better This Way
And it was better this way.
I received the opportunity to tell my story to those to whom God desired for me to tell it, in His timing.
To a number of people I still can hardly wrap my head around.
Many people have reached out and responded in ways and in numbers I never thought I would hear.
It’s helped solidify a person’s decision to be confirmed this Easter.
It’s laid lingering questions to rest.
It’s encouraged lifelong Catholics who love learning more about their faith.
It’s brought hope to those who have family separated from the Church.
I take this as a lesson to be frustrated less and trust more (and faster) in the future. With, like, everything.
For me this was a lesson in patience, and in getting over myself as quickly as possible so God can do his thing. Even if The Journey Home had never happened, I know God would have used my story any way he saw fit, and that it would have been good. It would have been good if the only people to hear it were my kids, and it built up their faith as they grew. It would have been good if it encouraged one person in RCIA at some point in the future through the blog. It would have been good if the blog was just a gift from God to me, a way to thank Him for all He’s done.
With God, nothing is wasted.
Open Hands
This whole process has helped me continue onward with open hands. Open to however God wants to use me, in whatever way He sees fit. Maybe I’ll teach CCD next year. Maybe I’ll be a guest from time to time at our parish RCIA. Maybe I’ll get a few more emails from people who have a question about the faith. I will for certain continue to write.
And I’ll do it all in peace because I will continue to trust in God to lead the way. For His timing is perfect, and His blessings abound.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
You guys, Advent was going to be so much fun! I was excited, and wrote this Very Catholic Mom Post about all the cool Advent family traditions we were going to start this year.
Now, before I write any further, I still am very excited for these traditions we (attempted) to start. They are concrete ways our kids can understand the season, and they are ways we as a family can come closer together and anticipate Jesus’ birth.
But… this Advent, almost nothing went as planned. But the toughest part was the health issues we dealt with as a family over the past two weeks.
Our Sunday Advent family dinners were interrupted Week 2, when Felicity (age 6) had a stomach bug. Several of the rest of us went down with a mild virus that week, which included several changes of sheets #ifyouknowwhatImean.
Our Sunday Advent family dinners were interrupted Week 3, when Mary got sick in her high chair. And the rest of us battled a stronger stomach bug through the first half of the week.
But then things took a scary turn. We had a hard time getting Mary’s fever down for over a day, her breathing was rapid, and she was not looking well. So I took her into the ER.
She was diagnosed with RSV and Pneumonia, and we were admitted for what would turn out to be a two night hospital stay.
Let me tell you… anyone who has ever had a sick child… you know. And my prayers are with anyone whose kiddo has a longer, more harrowing hospital stay than ours did. Because…
It broke me.
She’s so little. She can’t talk. She can’t explain how she’s feeling. She can’t fully understand. She was hooked up to fluids and an oxygen monitor, and poked and prodded and given medication.
Through that first night as her levels dropped, I stayed up holding an oxygen mask on the face of my sleeping child. As she worked hard to breathe, and fought to fight fever, I held her so she knew her mother was near.
There we were. Work, and school, and plans aside. Spending the some of the final days of Advent…
Taking care of a helpless baby that we love more than our own lives.
I would have traded places with her if I could. I wanted her back stressing me out by climbing on the coffee table, and on chairs, and finding hazardous things and otherwise keeping me on my toes.
Advents Past
In Advents Past, I have thought about Mary, heavy laden with child, preparing to give birth. That’s what I had hoped to do this Advent as well.
But, as the fluorescent hospital lights filtered through the blinds onto my chair where my baby slept, I thought of a different Mary.
A Mary who saw her baby suffer. Who stayed by his side. Who knew the anguish of watching her child in pain.
Sometimes knowing you aren’t alone helps. But I also knew I had someone who understood who could pray for me while I could barely summon the words to pray myself.
And it’s all connected, really, isn’t it?
Welcome To Our World
There’s a song by Chris Rice called Welcome to Our World that I watched with Mary on Praise Baby Christmas while she was sick, but before we took her in to the hospital.
One of the verses strikes that connection in a powerful way.
“Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born”
-Chris Rice, Welcome to Our World
That little baby was going to grow into a man who would right all that is wrong. Who would heal us. Whose suffering would bring about our ultimate redemption.
And as Mary now sleeps peacefully in her own crib, there is so much to be thankful for. We’ve had a rough couple of weeks, but we are overall healthy, and we will heal. We have time together as a family coming up through the end of the year, so we can enjoy each other’s company. We have years to build our family traditions together. And so much more.
So whether our Advent is filled with family traditions that help us joyfully anticipate His arrival, or whether we have fallen upon some harder times, let us give thanks.
He is coming.
He is coming to fix all that is broken.
Come Lord Jesus.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
When I was growing up in various Protestant churches, and in all the Protestant churches of my adulthood, one of the few symbols on display in each church was an empty cross. Usually inside the sanctuary, front and center.
This type of image is familiar to many, but it hasn’t always made the most sense to me.
Catholic churches, as most probably know, are known for their use of the Crucifix. This practice is odd to some, and unacceptable to others outside of the Catholic faith.
This is why I have embraced the Crucifix.
What’s Missing In The Empty Cross
To start, I would like to share why I’ve come to the conclusion that the empty cross is a less-than-ideal representation of our faith. I’ve been told a few reasons why Protestant churches display only the empty cross. One reason is the idea that Catholics leave Jesus on the cross because we for some reason don’t focus on His resurrection… and that Protestants do focus on his resurrection, hence not leaving Jesus hanging up there. And another reason is that the idea of making “graven images” is clearly forbidden in scripture.
I remember even as a little girl, thinking that the empty cross didn’t make a lot of sense to represent our belief in and focus on the resurrection. Namely, the fact that when Jesus was taken down off the cross, and the cross was indeed empty … he was dead. It feels like to me, wherever there is an empty cross, we are basically displaying an empty instrument of torture. The cross was used to execute many, many people over the ages, including 2 others at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion itself. The cross is how Jesus died, but apart from Jesus being on it, it is an execution device upon which many others died as well.
I always thought that some sort of symbol of the empty tomb, or the stone rolled away from the door would be more appropriate to represent the resurrection. If we want to reflect Jesus risen, let’s make a symbol of the place He rose from, right?! No one else rose from the dead under His own divine power like Jesus did. Lazarus, too, rose, but it was only under the power of Jesus that he did that. So the idea of the empty tomb symbolizing Christ’s resurrection, if that is the ultimate aim of those who leave Jesus off the cross, would probably be a better fit.
Graven Images
And then there is the graven images argument. In my new life as a Catholic, I am so enjoying learning about the Old Testament and how Judaism points to The Gospel in so many different ways. But, as I’ve learned, when one looks specifically about God commanding the Israelites not to make graven images in Exodus, he’s telling them not to make graven images to worship. Not that they can’t make images ever. In fact, shortly after issuing that command, God tells the Israelites to construct two statues of angels for either side of the tabernacle. The Israelites were to make statues, or images of angels. They just couldn’t, and shouldn’t worship them.
Similarly, Catholics don’t worship the crucifix. What a crucifix does is help us focus our minds on Christ, and the love that he poured out for us in his redemptive suffering. Worship is reserved for God alone.
Love in Action
While I still like the idea of the empty tomb, I believe a cross depicting Jesus on it helps remind us of how great the cost of our salvation was, and how great God’s love is for humanity at the same time. Especially in America, we are generally so comfortable. Many, though not all, of us don’t have a context for extreme suffering. And the cost for our salvation was so, very great. Every time I look at a crucifix I see the love of my Savior and I am so thankful.
And, honestly speaking, sometimes, also, the Crucifix is hard for me to look at. I don’t like picturing Jesus up there on the cross and knowing that he needed to do that because of my sin. I also believe that just because it’s difficult to look at doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be Mary, seeing her Son up there, dying, and staying by his side. Not even all the disciples were there with Jesus at the cross. I wonder if I would have had the strength to stay. When I pray through the Sorrowful Mysteries on the Rosary, the crucifixion is by far the most difficult decade for me to meditate on. But I also take comfort that Peter, who denied Jesus 3 times and likely was not at the crucifixion, was still the man God called to be the first Pope of the Church.
Even though it is difficult to look at, the Crucifix reminds me of the abundant grace of God then, and now, and forever. Seeing the Crucifix enables me to raise up my eyes and be willing to carry whatever cross I have before me during any particular moment of any particular day. It helps me think on God more. And it helps me grow in my faith and joy at what was accomplished on Calvary and 3 days later. All good, faith building and life giving things.
Embracing the Crucifix has been another of the gifts of my Catholic faith.
-Lorelei
Note: This article appeared in its original form on my conversion blog, ProtestantInterrupted, in April 2016, and has been updated for This Catholic Family in November 2017.
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
My kids, well the ones old enough to talk, talk to God like he’s a friend. They just tell him what they hope for in their own lives, and who they want to intercede for. Felicity for the longest time prayed for her preschool teacher who had a bothersome tooth. Auggie prays for his baby teeth to come out, which I think is his three-year-old way to tell God he longs to be bigger and more grown up. He’s had to show a lot of patience while waiting to be big enough for things like a big boy bike, and to be old enough to play soccer, and to be able to occasionally skip nap. They just lay it out, no holds barred.
Then we have our family prayers. Our kids know The Angel Prayer, where they ask their guardian angel to watch over them, The Lord’s Prayer, Good Night Dear Lord, and a few others, including the Hail Mary.
The Blessing of Continuity
And, though I never in a million years thought I’d send my kids to Catholic schools (particularly in my pre-Catholic days,) we have been so blessed by St. Lucy’s Catholic School, and our kids have only been going there for 3 months. Particularly, I’m loving the continuity between our home life, church life, and school life.
And a couple weeks back our kids came home with a mini rosary. Ten beads strung on pipe cleaners and twisted together at the end. That simple little tool has added a whole new layer to our family prayers at the end of many days.
Felicity leads us in the decade, holding on to each bead as she prays, and we join in. I watch the ease with which she asks for Mary to pray for us. I feel peace wash over me as it so often does when praying a prayer I was once so afraid to pray. In the prayers of my child we settle in as a family and draw nearer to Jesus.
Unity At Last
It is such a visible, tangible, audible reminder of the unity of our family in faith. Ten years ago I didn’t know how we would handle our different faith traditions when we had children. I didn’t have much reason to believe that this level of unity would one day be a part of our lives. But I hoped and prayed for it as JP and I found our way.
And, as I listen to the simple and pure prayers of my children, I realize just how deeply that desperate prayer has been answered. And it is such a beautiful thing.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
(The article below originally appeared on Catholic Stand. Click here to read.)
Letters To God
While sorting through a bin of items from my childhood, I came across several pages of prayer journals. In different phases of my life, I would write my prayers to God in letter form. The letters are written in such familiar language, as though I was writing a letter to a best friend. They made me smile. Some of my letters were written during normal times where nothing extraordinary or desperate was happening. Others were written during relatively difficult periods of time. But they were all very honest and trusting. They were also all handwritten, which means I made the effort to steal away and share my heart with my God.
In particular, these letters reminded me that I am currently far from the place where make such a concerted effort to pray. I pray, yes. But they are shorter, more fleeting prayers: praying with the kids before bed, praying a Hail Mary during the day. There is a place for those prayers inserted into the daily routine, to be sure. But there is also, I think, a need and a place to slow ourselves down and let the world melt away and connect with our Creator on a more intentional level.
How Quickly We Forget
I have to smile and shake my head a bit at how, despite all the changes in technology and industry and convenience, human nature really changes very little. For example, the Israelites witnessed God parting an entire sea to save them from the pursuit of Pharaoh and sustained them with manna. They so soon forgot, however, and built idols made of gold. Similarly, I forget so easily the balance, peace, and joy that is in my life when I intentionally spend time with God.
I know, historically, that the times where I am the most peaceful, the most grounded, and have the most perspective are the times in my life when I make time to pray. There was the summer I babysat several days a week and, while the kids napped, I would spend the time in devotion. There was the spring I went through a break-up and met God daily in my sorrow. There were many times when nothing in particular was going on, and I just acknowledged it was important and made the time.
But then I get comfortable. I let my priorities subtly, yet consistently shift. In those phases of life, when fleeting prayers are all that sustains me, something significant is out of balance. I am quicker to anger. I am more easily burdened by the stressors of life. I lose perspective on what is truly important. The Israelites and I? We have more in common than I’d like to think.
Making God Time A Priority
I am always going to be busy, though as the years go on the business takes on different forms. In high school, it was extracurriculars, and calculus homework. In early married life it was graduate school and learning how to be a teacher. Now, it’s three children aged five and under who are always hungry and who leave a trail of toy wreckage in their wake.
My husband recently (and gently) pointed out that I have many Martha-like tendencies. I spin many plates. Most of them necessary. I spin the plates of meal planning, house-keeping, playing with the kids, writing, and planning ahead so our family has what we need. Anxiety doesn’t rule my life, but there is more of it that I’d prefer when I am always focusing on the plates I spin, instead of looking up beyond the plates, to the One who created these gifts in my life. The gifts of food to eat, and a home to keep, and children to love, and a brain that loves to create and plan.
Amidst the business, there must still be time for God. Yes, he is there with us in the chaos. But he is also there, waiting for us to spend time with Him. He is there, in the quiet of our bedroom, or backyard, or coffee shop. He is there, in the Eucharist at each and every Catholic parish. He waits for us there in a full and real and tangible way.
Finding Adoration
Prior to becoming Catholic, I had access to God in many beautiful ways and many beautiful places through my Christian faith.
But one of the many significant gifts I have access to now through being Catholic, is the gift of Adoration. When I am weary, when I am burdened, I can go to my parish, and sit with my Savior. After our Mary/Martha conversation, I knew I was past due for some time sitting at my Savior’s feet.
So I went to Eucharistic Adoration. I entered to the scent of incense, a symbol of the prayers of the people rising up to God. I didn’t go with any specific agenda, or prayer requests in mind. I just wanted to slow down and remember what it felt like to be with God.
Through the brief time I was able to spend in Adoration, I found it was difficult to slow down my ever quickly moving mind. I realized it’s probably pretty tricky for God to get through to me sometimes when my own brain is moving a million miles an hour. I need to remember to slow down. I didn’t have any lightning bolt revelations, or earth-shattering clarity. But I did have rest. How beautiful is it that God is always there waiting for us? He is there in Adoration, in the Eucharist, in all those created in His image, in the world He set into motion in a universe filled with stars, voids, gravity, and light.
He is so patient with us. He finds us where we are, and makes Himself available for us to come to him. Where he veils himself in something so humble as the bread and the wine. Which, when I think about the immensity of God, isn’t that different from when He veiled His glory in the body of a human man.
It humbles. It inspires awe.
And so, I will go again to the feet of my Lord until I remember how to slow down my mind, to sit and to be, and to let Him fill me with his peace and His love. Then, I know, I will be able to accept with peace whatever it is that may come my way. Perhaps next time, I will once again bring a notebook and a pen, and remember what it is to share my ordinary and extraordinary burdens and joys with my God. And then to put the pen down, be still, and remember what it is to listen and to soak in His love for me.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
I have trouble with eye contact. Not during job interviews, not at home with my husband and kids. But definitely in public.
I remember in middle and high school avoiding eye contact with others was a way to deal with my shyness. The subtle yet significant fear that I would look someone in the eyes and they would ignore me. That I would not be seen. So I made the first move, which was to not even try.
A lot of times now, I find myself in a similar boat, except I’m not as much paralyzed by shyness as I am by the fact that I’m wrapped up in my own thoughts about my own life. What I need to do next, what I’m going to write about next, what I need to cook for dinner. The kids, the house, the list of things I need to do.
By doing this, I miss a lot of people, and a lot of potential interactions with other human beings.
In The Image of God
It’s easy for me to look at a baby, or a child, and to see the spark of The Creator inside them. Less so when it’s the person in front of me in line at a busy grocery store, who painstakingly writes out a check a la my grandmother. But instead of noticing that and remembering my grandma fondly, I am mostly irritated I chose this line, and will be delayed a couple of minutes and I have ice cream probably melting in the car from my first stop at Aldi.
The thing is, the lady in front of me, too, bears the mark and the spark of God inside her. And she, therefore, is deserving of a certain and irrevocable level of dignity and respect. So is the slow driver in front of me. The man carrying a 12 pack of beer as he walks home from the liquor store on the corner. The woman on her cell phone waiting for the bus.
Recently, I tried running errands and making an effort to truly look at people. And as I did, to think Image of God every time. There’s still some residual shyness lurking about, and it’s more difficult than I thought it would be. But when I did succeed, when I did pay attention enough to conciously acknowledge someone’s inherent worth. When our eyes met and we smiled. Woah. That was a powerful moment.
People long to be seen. We want to know we have worth.
A Blanket of Woven Saris
I recently hosted a party for a company that sells things made by women survivors of human trafficking. One of the many beautiful aspects of these companies is that women, who once were in a position where they felt they had no choice but to sell their bodies, now make a fair, living wage creating beautiful products for export. In their work, there is now dignity where there once was shame.
I received a handwoven blanket as a thank you for hosting the party. It is made of vintage saris, all beautifully braided together by a woman named Nasima. I know this because she signed the tag. I was able to go onto the website of the company, and to learn a bit about her story, and how her job gives her freedom, and respect.
My beautiful blanket.
The Creativity of God
When we, myself included, forget about the dignity within each and every human, bad things can happen. From the smallest to the oldest among us, we all bear the image of our Creator, and this is the primary source of our immense and intrinsict worth. Any time we mess with that, and start assigning importance or value based upon one’s size, or if they are wanted, or if they can help us get something we want, we forget Imago Dei. And we are all the poorer for it.
I am the first one to say it is my goal to look people in the eyes more. It’s a small step, to be sure, but if you take enough steps you end up at a different destination. I want to look at them and think Imago Dei. I want to offer a smile. I want them to know they are seen. I want to spend more time interacting with these image bearers and less time with the neverending lists inside my head.
As I do this, I hope to grow in awe and wonder at the diversity of souls on this earth and at the dignity of man and the creativity of God.
-Lorelei
Purchase Lorelei’s Books Here:
Lorelei is the author of creepy, magical, hopeful stories for children. Her debut, The Circus of Stolen Dreams, released in 2020. Her second book, a magical retelling of The Secret Garden, released in 2022. Both are available for purchase wherever books are sold.
This Catholic Family: Catholic Womanhood, Family, and Conversion 