Mulieris Dignitatem

Another one of those better said than written posts. The only other thing I'm going to say about it is that if you want to respond, please keep it civil.



Friends Are...

...Like bras, close to your heart, and there for support. I apologize to any male reader who may have been grossed out or just plain confused by that. It has a point, I promise. The point is that I love my friends. I know this, and I knew it before the Freshman Retreat, but like many things, I took it for granted. I took for granted that my friends were there to support me and have fun with me, and do crazy things like walk around the monuments in togas, or talk about emotional chastity with Taylor Swift in the background when we were supposed to be doing homework. This weekend solidified our bond with each other. A bond which started off strong, and because we were working together for something bigger than any of us, got a whole lot stronger.

On Saturday afternoon, the four of us sophomores led a discussion with the freshman girls about emotional chastity and how we'd struggled with it and continue to do so. At the time, I guess it hadn't occurred to us to be anything but honest with them. We told embarrassing stories, stories that still make us cringe, and stories we'd rather not be telling anyone. We tried to get the girls to identify ways that they'd struggled with it, and to think about living it out for their own sakes, and for the sake of their relationships with God. They got to see us really just being forthright about our lives, and how hard it is to live a virtuous life, and hopefully how happy we are doing it. The freshmen saw that for an hour and a half, but we saw it in each other all weekend.

The four sophomores on the retreat already knew about each other's struggles and problems. We'd seen them happen, heard about them, consoled each other, and baked our way through them when we had to. They weren't new to us. Who'd struggled with being dumped cruelly, who felt lonely and unlovable, and who was starting over again were already firmly established, and they didn't change. What did was that we came together as a group to fight those battles, rather than trying to do it ourselves. We purposely became more vulnerable, and that made us stronger. The girls noticed that vulnerability, as well, and it made an impression.

I think I've mentioned before that vulnerability and trust are things I don't do well. Like most people, I'm afraid of being hurt, and that is often what stops me from opening up to new possibilities and adventures. I don't like appearing vulnerable, either, which compounds the problem. It's tough to deal with issues when you're under the strain of feeling weak but trying to look strong. But part of the beauty of this weekend was that, surrounded by friends and allowed to reconnect with God, I didn't hold back. I laid bare what hurt me, what I struggle with on a daily basis, and a little bit of what I hope for when nobody's watching. It's not easy to be vulnerable like that, but it is rewarding.

It was truly a grace to be able to see my friends at work on the retreat. They were giving 110% the whole time, and it made their beauty shine through, inside and out. I hope that the freshman girls are able to find friends like that in each other, because as much as I love all my friends, nothing beats a friendship rooted in Christ. These girls are exquisitely beautiful, in faith and physically, and I'm blessed to have them around me to show me an example of what faith, hope and love really look like lived out. I can only hope we stay this tight, because I know the future with them will be like the dawn in Zachariah's Benedictus, full of hope, looking toward God.

Never Outdone in Generosity

I'm back from the retreat! I know I promised at least one post about it, but I have to say, it was so good I might be splitting it into several parts. For now, I just want to start off with what hit me hardest about this weekend, and that is that God is never outdone in generosity. It's one of those platitudes you hear all the time, and you brush it off because someone a lot holier than you is just trying to convince you that God will answer your prayers. It's totally true, though. It was one of the best reminders I got this weekend.

I told all the freshmen this during our reflection discussion this morning, when I got the first email from the president of the Newman Center that they were looking for volunteers to be student leaders of the Freshman Retreat, I jumped at the chance. I think I literally emailed him back four minutes later to tell him that I wanted to be one of them, and this on the heels of bugging him for weeks before that to finally send out the email to see who would be the student leaders. To make sure he knew just how badly I wanted to do it, I would text him every couple of days to see if the decision was made yet as to who the leaders would be. I'm sure he got tired of me asking, but it paid off, because when the email with the names went out, I was one of them. I was ecstatic.

It was that day that I started praying that one freshman would have the same kind of experience on the retreat that I did. I didn't want to be presumptuous or greedy, so I asked God to turn the heart of one freshman the same way He had turned mine. It would have been enough for me if that had happened, too. I still remember feeling so happy, so peaceful, so free and so absolutely exultant that I wanted to be able to share it with everyone, right that instant. I couldn't imagine the possibility of this happening to more than one of them, and I honestly would have been content if that had been the case. However, as we heard in the first reading last week, God's ways are not our ways, and His thoughts are not our thoughts. Good thing, too, because God would be awfully sleepy right now if they were.

I'm pretty much an early bird, and I adjust fairly well to getting up early, at least I do early in the day. Yesterday was no exception, as I was able to start reading Plutarch for my midterm about fifteen minutes after I woke up, and continued functioning well throughout the day. I stayed up and prayed with the whole group for Adoration and Benediction, and I figured I would tough it out until 11:00, because I wanted to be the last person to Confess before all-night Adoration started. It was not to be, though. Around 10:00, I could feel myself fading fast, so I decided I would take a half hour power nap and come back when our chaplain was almost done with Confessions. Fortunately, this was not to be, either.

About 10:15, I heard a girls voice from the living room saying "Oh my gosh, you guys, I just found Jesus! I need to call my mom and my dad, and like everyone I know!" I did want to sleep a little longer, I admit, but that was God saying to me "Get your lazy tukus out of bed, because you have more important things to be doing right now." I went out into the living room, and sure enough, there was the jubilant girl who had just Confessed, gushing about how free and happy and forgiven she felt for the first time in her life. They were almost exactly the same words I said (though through much heavier crying) last year. My heart leaped within me for joy at that moment, much the same way John the Baptist leaped for joy in his mother's womb when she heard Mary's greeting. I was thrilled beyond words that God had answered my prayers; He had touched one freshman's heart the way He touched mine last year. Little did I know that that would only be the beginning.

For the next two and a half hours, I sat in the living room, talking to all the freshmen who had yet to Confess, answering questions with the other student leader, and seeing that so many of them not only wanted to Confess, but they were excited about it. To give a little context, I was scared out of my mind before I went in, and though I know many of them were nervous, they were much more hopeful than I was. It was a true blessing to be able to see and talk to them as they prepared for such a beautiful encounter with Christ. Many came out crying happily, and the other sophomores and I formed a little hugging receiving line for them before and after to let them know how happy we were for them, and how proud of them we were for even going in. Confessions went an hour and a half past schedule, and it was the best delay we had all night.

All of this, aside from making me positively giddy, magnified God's greatness and generosity to His beloved sinners. You'll recall that I asked for one freshman. Just one. I didn't want to overdo it by asking for more than God might be willing to grant. However, I was thinking like a human. If I, being imperfect in love and generosity, had been asked for the gift of changing one person's heart, I would take great care in selecting that one person, but I would only have chosen one. God, in His infinite and perfect glory, heard my prayer, and blessed our entire group, not with one change of heart, but with at least half a dozen (and there were only 17 freshmen). He was asked to change one person's heart, to touch only one person's life, and He gave us all more grace than I daresay any of us would ever have dared to ask of Him.

I'm still riding that joyous high, and I cannot tell you how happy I am. Our chaplain told me in Confession last year that all of Heaven was throwing me a party because I had come home at long last. All I can say is, Heaven must have been overbooked with parties last night, because God's ways are not our ways, His thoughts are not our thoughts, and He is never outdone in generosity.

Retreat!

In an hour and a half, I'll be going on this year's Freshman Retreat. I'm super nervous about giving my witness talk, and so is the other student leader, so please pray for us! It's gonna be a rocking weekend, and I'm so so so so excited!!! Please know that I'm keeping you all in my prayers, and expect at least one post about the retreat when I get back (and recover from over studying for my first midterm). Until Sunday, God bless!

An Adorable Sacrilege

Okay, let me start off by easing your fears and saying that no sacrilege was actually committed in the making of this post. It just felt like it. It was really more of a blooper, or snafu, if you will. I really didn't mean any harm, I had just misunderstood the instructions I was given. I probably shouldn't have, but I did. I was really broken up about it, too. You can ask the people who saw me crying because I thought I'd just committed some kind of mortal sin, it's true. No mortal sin was committed, though, just a silly mistake which exposed how woefully under-catechized I am, even now.

You're probably wondering just what sort of atrocity I'm going on about here, so I'll let you know. I'm the permanent sacristan (Mass setter-upper) at the Newman Center now, and the chaplain told me that today I was supposed to put two celebrant hosts on the paten (little plate they put on top of the chalice) so that he could consecrate a new host to use for Eucharistic Adoration. Silly Christina, however, thought this meant she was supposed to remove the already consecrated host from the lunet (what holds the host in the monstrance), which she then proceeded to do. When the chaplain asked if I had put two celebrant hosts on the paten, I said yes, and told him what I'd done.

All things being equal (and considering he'd just found out he was dealing with a sacristan who didn't know that her unconsecrated hands were not supposed to be on the Body of Christ), I think he took it rather well. Our chaplain was startled, but recovered himself and admonished me not to touch the consecrated hosts again, because, my hands not being consecrated as a member of the priesthood's, I wasn't supposed to be touching them. It was at this moment that the horrible realization dawned on me that I might have just done something terribly sacrilegious, not to mention foolish and disrespectful. I couldn't help myself, and I started to cry, running through all the awful punishments and sins my soul could have incurred because of my ignorance.

I went into the bathroom, and, careful not to use the fingers that had touched the host, tried to blot away the tears and clumsily blow my nose. I went to daily Mass late, sat in the back, and could barely absorb a thing from the liturgy, being so consumed with guilt. Just in case I'd committed sin by touching the Eucharist unworthily, I didn't receive, and I mentally begged God for forgiveness with every fiber of my being. After Mass, the chaplain washed my hand as he does his own during the liturgy, and sent me on my way, so he could hear Confessions. I went upstairs to the bathroom, and began to cry again.

A friend walked in on me, graciously attempted to console me, and when our campus minister came up to her office, I began to cry again, explained the story to her, and.......... she laughed. Not like giggling, either. She was full on laughing at what I'd told her, and the first thing she said was "Oh, sweetie! That's so adorable!" This made me feel better by getting me to laugh at what I thought was the absurdity of the statement. But, she explained, "It just sounded like you're a little girl going , 'Okay daddy, I'll do what you say,' without really getting it. It's just so cute." And looking back on it, that's kind of what it was. I knew I was supposed to put two hosts on the paten, and I knew that one of them was already the consecrated Body of Christ, and so I was very careful with it, taking every precaution I could think of and even hesitating before touching it, because I knew Who it was.

This has caused two realizations to arise today. One, that the Eucharist truly is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, and two, that I ought still to be seeking out humility whenever and wherever I can. With regard to the first realization, it's not that I didn't know that in either my head or my heart, but I guess I've been taking it for grated the Jesus is really there in the Eucharist. Like, "Oh yeah, don't receive if you think you're in mortal sin, receive on the tongue to show respect, whisper 'My Lord and my God' when the bread and wine are elevated at Mass," had just become very casual, subconscious things to me. I'd forgotten how awesome it is that not only is God with us at Mass, during Adoration, etc., but that He literally gave us His Body and Blood to consume so we could have eternal life with Him. Believe me, the power of the sacrament is no longer lost on me. It is nothing short of miraculous.

With regard to the second, I suppose that I'd just taken the Real Presence so much for granted, that I almost thought nothing of touching the Body of Christ. Repeat, I did not actually think about physically touching GOD. I chalk it up to pride because since I've been entrusted with setting up Mass every day, I didn't think this would be anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I must have assumed I'd be doing it every week. Thankfully, all it took was a little (or big, depending on how you look at it) shock to remind me that this isn't just fun and games. A priest can touch God because his hands have been consecrated to do so, because he has been set apart from the rest of us, and called to actually be God to people.

I never really thought about our chaplain saying that he wonders how he could possibly be worthy to consecrate the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, but now I sort of get it. To touch God is a colossal thing, and to be called not only to touch Him, but to make Him physically present is one of the most unimaginable honors a person could have. Having touched God without having been called by Him to do so cowed me in the most awful way. I couldn't even bring myself to think of what I'd done, the shame was immense. Only now can I see that this was God reminding me of who I am, and Who He Is. I am human, He is the awesome Creator, Sustainer, and Source of all life.

Grounding in Real Hope

I love my girlfriends, I really do. I've bonded much more tightly with them this year than I did last year, and I'm so excited for all the fun things that means for the next three years. However, we are dangerous together. In an extension of last night's post, as much as I love my girlfriends, we make emotional chastity so much harder for each other. One of them has asked me to say that we don't create problems for her because, as she puts it, "I don't have emotions". This is untrue. She has lots of emotions, it's just that most of them are expressed by fond insults or threats.

We were all gathered in the Newman Center today, pretending or attempting to do homework, and somehow, Taylor Swift ended up coming out of somebody's laptop. And then we started talking about who's been on dates in the last couple of days, and well, you can sort of guess how the conversation went from there. We started talking about how one of us looks like she's just been asked on a date, and who else can we get set up with whoever she's interested in, and as much fun as this is (it's pretty much an essential part of how girls bond with each other), it does wonders to impede any efforts we might be making to be emotionally chaste.

I know I shouldn't be talking, because I willingly participated in the conversation as well as routinely allow my emotions to run away with me, and I even pointed out what we were doing was unhelpful. But still, I feel like even if I'm a part of the problem, I should still be pointing out that there is one. And this one is big. Big enough, in fact, that the friend who is leading our Freshman Retreat with me has agreed that we should talk about it with the girls. I've also noticed, as the only friend who commented on the last post admitted, that I am prone to people-watching the Communion line to see if there are any hopeful prospects, so this isn't just an isolated, I-only-do-it-with-the-girls type of thing.

There really is no lesson here, as of yet. I wish there was, believe me, but I've got nothing. I guess the lesson is that I (and really a lot of women) need to be more mindful of my thoughts in addition to my words and my actions. It's one thing to have a crush, but it's another to see a future with someone where there really isn't one. Real hope is good, false hope is dangerous. And this is coming from the "grounded" one.

In My Best Dress, Fearless

I've been hearing a lot of Taylor Swift lately, and I think it's mostly because I have so many friends who love her. I mean, I literally had to promise to drive my friend's CDs back to her the next morning to get her to let me put them on my computer. I find that I do like Taylor's music, mostly because she doesn't curse all the time, she is talented, and above all, she writes the stories of our lives. Her songs are relatable, and that speaks to our hearts (yes, I think I can count myself among her fans, however casual).

One of the things that I like best about Taylor Swift's music is that she writes such sweet love songs. Quite a few of my friends and I have had our hearts broken, and as we try to work through all our different situations together, those are the songs that help to make us feel like there is still hope for our love lives. Currently, we're all starting a book by Jason and Crystallina Evert, called How to Find Your Soulmate Without Losing Your Soul, and although Taylor is wonderful to listen to, I think the Everts are helping us realize a problem that T. Swift exacerbates in our feminine personalities: emotional chastity.

It's something you almost never hear when adults speak about chastity, but it is a particular problem for teenage girls and young women, and I guess for women in general. Emotional chastity is being able to keep your emotions in check, and not let yourself get more attached to someone mentally and emotionally than you actually are. It's really hard, and even more so when you're feeling hurt or when you have a crush. I guess it's a woman's desire for authentic love and communion with other people that drives us to want to see connections that aren't there, but it's harmful to our hearts and to the relationships we actually have.

I know that I am guilty of this, and I think it's played a part in how hurt I've gotten before. I'm working on it, and some days it's easier than others, but often I fail. One of the remedies that's worked best, though, is developing my own life and cultivating  myself into the woman I want to be. Finding myself has been an immeasurable help in combating this feeling that I need to imagine stronger and deeper connections with other people, especially men. It helps me to respect myself as a woman worthy of the same true love that every other woman is worthy of, and through that, it helps me to respect my brothers more as men who are the same path, rather than objects to fulfill my emotional fantasies.

However, though I do definitely want to perfect the art of remaining detached enough to keep my emotions from running wild with me, I also want to be able to hold onto the kind of hope for love that Taylor sings about so often. I'm beginning to see that the older I get, and the more important relationships seem to become, that line between the two gets fairly thin. It's somewhat comforting to know that other women struggle with being emotionally chaste, and that my friends and I can encourage each other to be chaste, but also to have hope that one day we'll get the kind of warm fuzzies Taylor Swift goes on about so often.

So, ladies, would you be willing to share whether or not you struggle with this, too? Don't feel obligated to share anything specific, but I'm curious to hear the experiences of other women.