Enemy of the Good

I'm procrastinating this afternoon, as I have no desire to complete a seemingly impossible assignment for one of my History classes, so here I am to address you all. I love reading other Catholic blogs, and one in particular is the blog of Msgr. Charles Pope, who always seems to have reasonable things to say and writes in a style that is easily accessible to many different kinds of readers. Today's post is about delaying marriage and the perfect as the enemy of the good. This message strikes a chord with me especially since I am a perfectionist, and my mother always used to tell me that I shouldn't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Sometimes good is good enough, and I needed to be told occasionally to let go of my dreams of perfection so that a particular task could be accomplished.

I was reminded of this topic last night during a discussion with two male friends about falling in love. I mentioned to them that I dislike songs with cynical lyrics because they take such a dim and hopeless view of love and life. I told them that I want falling in love to be thrilling and scary and fulfilling, to which one of them replied that I've been watching to many romantic comedies and that I should take my head out of the clouds. I countered with the assertion that I do not suffer from the delusion that some mythical Prince Charming will ride in on his white horse and sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset. What I mean when I say that I want falling in love to be those things is that I want to be excited to give myself to another person, that I want to know that in making myself vulnerable to him, I am entering into communion with him, that I'm having the experience as it's meant to happen.

I know that I don't know from experience how these things are "meant to happen", but I think I have a good enough idea to work off of from the examples of the dating/married women I know. However, this idea has been a long time coming, as I have taken the customary way too long period of letting my idea of a perfect man be the enemy of the good men who actually exist. I don't have any romantic prospects now, but that hasn't stopped me in the past from dreaming up the perfect man for myself. It's only recently, as I begin the first stages of vocational discernment that I've started trying to curb my perfectionism in favor of a more realistic idea of how my life could go.

Most of this change is due to a wonderful group of women I was introduced to on facebook this summer, CathSorority. I am (to my knowledge) the second youngest woman in the group, so I've had ample opportunity to learn about the struggles of real life women and men to live their call to marriage (and one woman's call to the religious life). In a way, I've been blessed to see some of what Christian dating and marriage actually look like, made to work by imperfect people the best way they know how. These women have given me a real inside look on the routine and not-so-routine hardships of life, and thus, a better, more realistic idea of what my life could look like in the future.

That's not to say that all they experience is hardship, for certainly they've had their share of joyful moments as well as hard ones. At least three or four women have welcomed new children, a few have gotten new jobs, and some are approaching their weddings with growing excitement. The reason that I look forward to my future and hopefully falling in love, though, is because I've seen these women talk about and live their loves with their husbands and children. I know what they've experienced, good and bad, and I look forward to my future life that much more because it sounds like true happiness, even though there are scares and struggles along the path. They have not let the perfect be the enemy of the good, and to me, that looks so much more fulfilling than whatever form perfect takes in my head or heart. It reflects God's plan for them, and as my spiritual director likes to say, whatever God calls you to will be your happiness. I look forward to my happiness, no matter what God determines that will be, or with whom; perfect or not.

Joy and Exaltation

Good Sunday Morning! I hope you're all doing well since last I posted (I'll assume you are, since I probably see most of you lovely readers a few times a week). I find it tough to write very much when I come back after a long time away from here, so this post will be short and sweet, but full of happiness and excitement about Jesus. Sound good? Great! On we go.

So, as a junior in college now, I know I should be looking for jobs that will actually add something to my resume other than words, but I do not have one of those jobs this semester. Instead, I've taken a job at the university's Hillel (Jewish student center, for those who don't know) heating, serving, and cleaning up food for the Shabbas dinner on Friday nights. It's not a particularly labor intensive job, and the students seem to appreciate the Shabbas goys (non-Jews who do our job) being there for them. You might wonder, then (or I'm going to assume you might wonder), why I took the job if it doesn't do anything for my resume and it eats up five hours of my Friday nights. The short answer is that I think it's cool. The long answer is that already I've learned about the Jewish tradition, and been able to observe people my own age living out their faith in a serious way. Also, they encourage me to eat and take leftovers home, and I don't know of anyone else who gets paid to do almost nothing, gain interesting knowledge, and eat for free.

Speaking of Friday and tradition, this past Friday was the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, and one of the most awesome feasts on the liturgical calendar. I didn't know it until I came to college, but I've loved this weekend in September for a long time, and that is tied to my love for a particular hymn, "Lift High the Cross". When I was a little girl, I latched onto this hymn as a personal favorite for a reason as yet unknown to me or to anyone else. As I was wont to do then, I memorized the hymn and would sing it or hum it for a few weeks after whichever Sunday was closest to the Feast of the Exaltation. For the past three years since being here in Washington, my father, who always remembers to send little things to cheer me up, has sent me an email with the music for the hymn attached whenever his parish's choir sings it at Mass. I received that email this morning, and played the hymn as I always do, and I realized for a second that I'd forgotten how much I like it, especially now being a particular devotee of the Cross.

I guess it's weeks like this when I'm truly thankful for being here at my school, where I'm constantly learning about the world, my faith, and myself. I forget occasionally how good God is to me, and then He goes and reveals it in the start of Adoration, a job learning about His chosen people as predecessors to His covenant with all people, and the simple joy of a little music telling of His goodness. It's a good morning indeed when I can look around and behold God in everything I see.

Here's a little "Lift High the Cross" for you. Fair warning: This version is pretty epic.  :)

50 Shades of Magic Mike

I don't normally write about pop culture and other factors similarly irrelevant to my life, but I've found a couple of things that merit talking about. The first is the book 50 Shades of Grey, and the second is the movie Magic Mike. Both are erotic, popular, and aimed at women, and women have eaten them up in droves. I don't know anyone who's read/seen them, as far as I know, but I can't escape them in the news and on the web. I can tell already that I will be one of the women not partaking in the fad, partially because crap that pretends to be art offends me, and partially because I know what the producers of both are doing, and I won't bite.

I've been hearing a lot about 50 Shades of Grey and Magic Mike recently, and I have to say that all the hubbub about them in the media is ridiculous. It's being hailed as new and revolutionary that women are reading erotica and watching soft-core pornography, and as a woman I have to ask: to whom? I'm serious, though. This is not news to me or to any woman who lives in the first world today. Women read erotica all the time. What do people think is in those trashy "romance" novels, candlelight dinners? Why do they think women flock to movies with actors like Channing Tatum and Ryan Reynolds, because they should be nominated for Academy Awards? None of this is new, and it's certainly not revolutionary, but I will say this: it's a big, fat load of hypocrisy, and I'm ashamed that women are buying into it.

I'll start off by saying that yes, as a young Catholic woman, the sex is part of the reason I object to 50 Shades and Magic Mike. However, that is really only the tip of the iceberg, because I'm not uncomfortable with sex, how it works, sexuality, or the male and female anatomy. Unlike some folks, I am able to say the words penis and vagina without blushing or giggling. What really bothers me is the double standard women are perpetuating by buying into these franchises, and what their popularity says about some of the problems facing women and couples today, and the fact that they're being exacerbated and/or ignored instead of solved. So I'm being a little conservative today, but only a little.

First things first, let's talk about the double standard 50 Shades and Magic Mike create, and to do that, let's flip them around a little. What if instead of aiming to titillate women, 50 Shades was meant to titillate men by its main character's complete sexual dominance over the female protagonist in the "Red Room of Pain"? What if men were supposed to get off by going to see Magic Mariah- a movie about female strippers- and were doing it by the thousands and recommending their friends do the same? It wouldn't just be the feminists raising hell about it, it would be all women. They'd shout about authors and producers objectifying women, and demand that the books be pulled from the shelves and the movie from the box office. The preeminent concern would be for the dignity of women- wives, sisters, mothers, daughters- and the effect these images would have on them. Why is it, then, that objectifying men is permissible for the pleasure of women? I've yet to hear an acceptable answer.


Call me crazy, but I believe in the equality of the sexes. I want equal pay for equal work, and if I'll tell my sons they can't hit women, I'll tell my daughters they can't hit men. Respect is a two-way street, and I'm not okay with the hypocrisy of the 50 Shades and Magic Mike franchises, because if women are going to scream about deserving the respect of men, they had better be giving men the respect they deserve. I don't care if that opinion doesn't earn me any friends. I'm not advocating putting someone on a pedestal who hasn't earned it, but I believe in holding yourself to the same standards you set for others.

I've railed against them so far, but 50 Shades and Magic Mike have done one good thing, even if people don't realize it: they've exposed some glaring problems in the lives of their female consumers. What does it say about a married woman who turns to erotica and pornography for satisfaction? It says that she's not being satisfied by sex with her husband. What does it say about women and couples if thousands of women are turning to erotica and pornography for satisfaction, not clandestinely as they typically do, but publicly and proudly? It says that there is something wrong with the way thousands of men and women were taught to communicate with and relate to each other. Granted, I'm not privy to the inner workings of the average married couple's relationship, but I'd say it's a safe bet that if they were communicating and relating effectively, one partner wouldn't be searching outside the relationship for fulfillment.

I'm going to go out on another crazy limb here, but I believe that trust and good communication are the bedrock of any solid relationship. Every good relationship I have is good because I communicate effectively and often with the other person, and because we trust each other to improve as people when we need to and improve the relationship when it needs to be improved. I believe that marriage is the ultimate relationship because it is a choice to commit in a unique way to one person forever, and because of its singular nature, marriage requires both husband and wife to communicate effectively to make it work. If one or both partners are not talking to the other and are seeking sexual satisfaction elsewhere, the way I see it, the marriage has been lost. It can be recovered, but it will take a lot of work, and the popularity of 50 Shades and Magic Mike have shown that an enormous number of marriages need that work.

If you've seen Magic Mike or read 50 Shades of Grey, please don't think I'm condemning you, as strong as my words here are. I'm nowhere near impervious to this kind of temptation, and a few years ago both of these franchises would have been right up my alley. I say this because I know men deserve better treatment from women, women deserve better entertainment from an industry that is capable of high art, and because both deserve to be able to enter a marriage and actually make it work. Also, I think that sex should be a wonderful, rapturous experience for both parties, and I know firsthand that pornography of any kind doesn't make sexual experiences better, it makes them worse. There are plenty of ways that we as a culture can be entertained, stimulated, and respected, but the likes of 50 Shades and Magic Mike are not among them.

You Are Beautiful, Day 30

If I could choose one topic that often goes ignored or when mentioned, is filled with doom and gloom, I would immediately choose the post-partum body.

Thanks to the rapid period of pregnancy with fluctuating hormones and weight gain, it's an inevitable fact that our bodies will change, in some ways permanently.

Women might feel dread as they read that sentence. Not only does it imply falling out of the social limits of beauty and losing control of our own bodies, but it also means shopping for new clothes that fit and look nice on us.

I can hear the screams now.

Some women take a stand. They might, for example, claim that they are going to avoid breastfeeding to avoid the sagging. (This has been proven ineffective, by the way. Pregnancy is what increases the risk of sagging. If you've already gone through pregnancy, might as well breastfeed to get some benefit for your body, besides your baby.) Or they might embark on numerous diets and exercise programs, even during pregnancy. Some even take on extreme levels of distance running, participating in marathons and triathlons. (This author warns against over developing certain muscles, claiming it leads to increased pelvic pain and increased birth interventions.) Of course, many women maintain a healthy, balanced view and exercise normally throughout pregnancy.

Lauren even ran a 3 mile before her c-section!

And some women take a seat. Don't be so quick to assume it's out of laziness! For many reasons, pregnancy can arrive with painful situations such as impaired mobility, joint pain and morning sickness. Goals to exercise go out the window, replaced with much smaller yet rewarding achievements, such as keeping food down or going grocery shopping. Society already bombards us with all the warnings about not exercising anyways, so I feel it's evened out in comparison to the links I provided earlier.

This back and forth has women confused. It IS, actually, presented somewhat as a debate. Should a woman accept her body as it is, stay where she is at and learn to love her body? Should a woman feel obligated to exercise and/or diet soon after birth until she has returned to her original weight/shape?

They seem opposed, don't they? And each one carries a nugget of truth:

First, we should accept our bodies. This means we should acknowledge where we are on the beaten path. Our journey right now, the way we are right now, is an experience, whether we like it or dislike it. Openly looking at our bodies and learning all we can about ourselves is definitely beneficial to our personal development. 

During pregnancy

After pregnancy

Nearing 42 weeks

One week after birth

The way our bodies change during pregnancy is amazing and complex. It speaks to deep power, strength and a primal call, saying life is going on; the world is turning. The way we look after birth can shock us, maybe even make us nervous or scared. We might want to ignore it, wish it away. We might even hate it. But, these bodies belong to us. These experiences are part of us. Like a contraction, we can choose to try to run away, or we can open our arms wide and feel it wash over us.

Second, we should respect our bodies. It's something moms need to hear frequently. We have needs, too. Our bodies are important, too. If mamas still shake their heads while reading this, then think of it this way: if you aren't healthy, that will impact your child, too. You and your baby deserve a healthy mama-body! You deserve to feel good, to look good and to achieve the right health and shape for you. This in turn will battle against depression and anxiety during and after pregnancy, assist with the baby's weight in utero and overall prevent or decrease the risk of complications and interference.

Eva is 8 months pregnant and nursing her toddler on a nature hike.

Getting in some exercise with a munchkin on the back and in the belly.

The way to resolve the seeming opposition between these two "sides" is to keep it personal. In other words, when you want to exercise (or don't want to exercise) what is your intention? Exercising and eating to feel happy, healthy and prepared for motherhood is going to put you on a balanced path. Exercising and eating to set a goal and feel the accomplishment or to keep you connected in a supportive community is going to benefit you. If your goals for exercising are not realistic and healthy, then the exercise itself will most likely become unhealthy.

Similarly, taking a good, honest look in the mirror to learn about your experience and to feel the inherent strength and beauty of your body is an indescribable step towards self-actualization. Seeing yourself completely, without wishing any different, is an acceptance that most people yearn for and never find. Recognizing where you are, where you want to be and finding peace in that will benefit you. If your goal is to hide from problems in your life or inner fears and feelings of inadequacy, then this process itself will most likely lead to unhealthy living.

To all the women out there, looking at their bodies in the mirror, smiling, frowning, squishing fat or flexing abs...You are beautiful, Mother. Vous êtes Belle, Mere.

Six months after birth, and after 2 c-sections.

One year after birth

Feeling accomplished after a race

After two kids

About 9 months after birth

About one year after the 2nd child, still nursing both.

And my favorite video that shows exercising as part of an intense journey of self-discovery:

To learn more about motherhood and to see more photos and read stories of women who have walked the journey of being a mother, please visit The Shape of a Mother.

Guggie Daly, a Catholic with crunch, seeks to promote the value of whole living, 

especially in the topics of conception, pregnancy, birth and early childhood.

A mama to three kids, she finds faith and reason belong together in the parenting topic 

and likes to connect evidence-based science with respect for the dignity of human life. 

You Are Beautiful, Day 29

You are Beautiful Post, Day 29 -- Mirror, Mirror.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Have I got it?

'Cause Mirror you've always told me who I am

I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect

So sorry you won't define me

Sorry you don't own me*

- Barlow Girl

Our society as a whole is saturated with this concept of beauty and how to improve what we see in the mirror. From shows like Next Top Model to the line of late night infomercials promoting Genie Bras and other similar products, it seems like everywhere I turn, I'm confronted with ways to make myself prettier, slimmer, more attractive. All battering away at my already chipped self-esteem.

Working retail has just brought this issue to my attention even more. Not only are teens and women dealing with this, but I'm watching it trickle down to affect little girls now. My store sells clothing for young girls that I would never dress a future child of mine in. One shoulder tops, bikinis, low rider jeans. It's one thing for a teenager or adult to wear these, but to dress a child as young as 5 or 6 in them?

If beauty is really in the eye of the beholder and that beholder is society, I, for one, am butt ugly.

Who are you to tell me

That I'm less than what I should be?

Who are you? Who are you?

I don't need to listen

To the list of things I should do

I won't try, I won't try*

Butt ugly? Why do I say that? Well physically, I'm about 100-110 lbs overweight, I'm covered in scars from head to toe, my hair is frizz central, and the list goes on.

Growing up, my issues with beauty started when I was about 11. That's when the early bloomers in my class started to develop, and the general focus shifted from having fun and playing, to gossiping and primping. Even at home I wasn't spared. I inherited my dad's large bone structure and as such I'll never be a size 2. Combine that with a weight problem and you've got one miserable preteen. My grandparents constantly criticized me, saying if I'd only put more of an effort into my looks, I could lose the weight. I tried everything, eating right, exercising, slim-fast. My weight yo-yoed up and down for most of my teen years.

And every time the scale moved up there came more criticism, and it was harsher each time. My appetite for food in general soured, and the pain and feelings of worthlessness increased. I stopped eating regularly; instead I'd have one meal, maybe two, just enough to keep my parents and grandparents from freaking out. But it didn't seem to help and I only hurt more. I started cutting to deal with the pain. Of course seeing the scars left behind only made it worse and I'd cut more. It was a vicious cycle and it always left me feeling like I'd never be pretty enough, never be good enough, never BE enough. This downward slide eventually led to a week long stay in a nearby psychiatric hospital, a diagnosis of severe depression, and intensive therapy and treatment.

Mirror I am seeing a new reflection

I'm looking into the eyes

of He who made me

And to Him I have beauty beyond compare

I know He defines me*

Ten years later, I am proud to report that I am happier and healthier. My depression is finally on the way to being permanently well-managed. The weight and eating issues have been conquered and the hidden hypothyroidism that caused the pounds to stick like glue has been diagnosed and is regulated. Which means the weight is, slowly but surely, coming off.

Sometimes I still look into the mirror and all I see is the double chin and abundance of dark scars. But then I think about Psalm 139 which I used to have taped up on my mirror (and in a wonderful coincidence was the psalm for this past Sunday!)

"You formed my inmost being;

you knit me in my mother's womb.

I praise you, because I am wonderfully made;

wonderful are your works!

My very self you know.

My bones are not hidden from you,

When I was being made in secret,

fashioned in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw me unformed;

in your book all are written down;

my days were shaped, before one came to be.

-- Psalm 139:13-16

How wonderful is it to know that our God who formed us from nothing thinks we're beautiful. He made us just the way He wanted us to be. That means He gave me my large bones and frizzy hair on purpose. But to Him, I'm still beautiful. I am wonderfully made in His image. Frizzy hair, scars and all. Society's image can take a hike. I am beautiful to the One who created me, and that's all that matters to me.

*All lyrics used are from Mirror by Barlow Girl.

Suzanne is a 20-something former Baptist turned 14 month old baby Catholic who makes rosaries, rescues abandoned kittens, and loves photography. She's a night owl who blogs about life, faith, and the pursuit of her next adventure over at Of Butterfly Wings.

You Are Beautiful, Day 28

“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”

“Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it's at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.” -Audrey Hepburn

For my unexpected last post of this month on beauty, I've chosen to write about a topic that I believe hasn't been touched on yet: service to others. I don't mean this to convey the message that beauty is dependent on utility, because A) it's not, and B) that's cruel and demeaning. What I want to convey is that we spend so much time worrying ourselves- how we look, how we feel, what we want- that we occasionally forget to think about others, when it might be better to forget ourselves instead.

I know so many people who embody this virtuous forgetfulness, and I admire them all (going back to Day 2, beauty = that which we should admire), but I want to focus once more on my friend Quinn. I'd never thought about it or knew it, but Quinn was a prime example of someone who forgot himself in order to serve other people. He was a counselor at several camps helping children overcome challenges or become passionate about their interests, he worked at a nursing home where he was (no surprise) loved by all the residents, he went on marches for all sorts of different causes, and was forever trying to improve the lives of those around him.

In his eulogy, Quinn's mother wrote him a letter in which she told him "You have always been my most selfless child," and remarked that "You are forever emptying your wallet, and mine, and Dad's to give to those in need." When he couldn't give monetarily, he often gave of his time. He spent time in Ecuador (or perhaps Peru, I've forgotten) living with the poorest of the poor and helping them, and a little closer to home, he went on a retreat to an inner city to live like many of the poor residents there. Quinn didn't just want to help people, he wanted to sympathize with them.

If he couldn't do, or simply wasn't doing, those things at a particular time, Quinn was living out those quotes at the top of the post. He tried his best to see the good in all people, even if they'd hurt him. He tried to speak all the good he knew of everybody, and attempted to avoid saying bad things about people if he could. He was peaceful and joyful in his faith, and seemed to know that he was not alone in his walk through life, even when it was difficult. In February of last year, when he was home for a spell, he'd heard that a family friend had been diagnosed with cancer and wasn't faring well, so he wrote the friend a note reminding him/her that God was still watching, and that with time he/she would be able to pull through the treatment.

Quinn was educated by Jesuits for about half of his life, and their unofficial motto is "Men for Others". I think Quinn took that seriously, although as far as I know, he never seriously thought of becoming a priest. Without thinking about himself or calling attention to himself, Quinn went about serving other people to the best of his ability, whether or not he knew them, and almost always in situations where they couldn't pay him back. He did what he did out of genuine love, concern, and kindness, and in so doing made himself a beautiful person. As I wrote in my first post about him, there's a plaque in my kitchen that says "What you are it God's gift to you. What you make of yourself is your gift to God." In nineteen years Quinn made God a  beautiful gift of himself by forgetting himself for the good of others. He was an admirable person, and a beautiful one, too.

You Are Beautiful, Day 27

Though we may bestow the adjective of “beautiful” upon many different nouns, though we all have different ideas as to what specific things are “beautiful,” we all have one thing in common: we hold beauty to a standard.  We have certain criterion that things must meet to be deemed “beautiful” and if they do not measure up they are simply not “beautiful”.  The pageant participant is never given points for trying to get rid of acne; the soloist is never applauded for nearly hitting the proper note.  The author is never granted stars and good reviews for writing an almost touching love story.  No matter our personal idea of “beauty” we all have one thing in common: beauty is success.

This mentality is not abandoned when we consider the “beauty” of less mundane things—such as the beauty of the soul.  Internal or spiritual beauty is held to the same requirements as everything else.  We never call someone “patient” when they are merely attempting to be; we call them that when they have succeeded.  The sinner struggling to overcome pride and vanity is never called humble.  No one gets points for trying.  I have found this very depressing.

“Beauty is on the inside!” I have heard many people quip in order to comfort others who feel physically ugly; but if beauty is measured by success, have they not just forever ripped beauty from us?  They have merely exchanged one success for another, and the new one is much harder to attain!  Our standard for beauty leaves no room for mistakes.  And who is perfect?  No one.  Failure, weakness, and imperfection are most feared, and they are unavoidable. 

So, perfection and success are out of the question; the only thing we can ever be is perfectly imperfect…

…and that, I maintain, is the key to the greatest amount of beauty we will ever have. 

Gertrud von le Fort wrote a novel entitled “The Song at the Scaffold” which takes place during the French Revolution.  It is about a young girl named Blanche who from infancy suffered from debilitating anxiety attacks.  When she joins a Carmelite convent, she is met with a courageous group of women who want nothing more than to become martyrs for the Lord in those troubled times.  Poor Blanche does not have the strength or courage to handle even the idea of martyrdom, and ends up leaving the convent.  The story goes on to tell how she learns to accept her debilitating fear and how, in the end, that sacrifice was greater than the sacrifice of literal martyrdom.  I was very touched by the tale, and was left wondering how a weakness as great as Blanche’s could have such a beauty about it. 

The thing about Blanche is that she is perfectly imperfect, and she is well aware of the fact.  She does not strive for utter success; she did all that was in her power to be as good as she could be, but the rest she simply accepted.  She then did what few imperfect people do; she brought her weakness before the one person who could truly understand.  She brought her failure before the one person who carried all the failure of the entire world.  She gave herself—every blemished minute particle of it—to Christ.

Those things truly beautiful are those qualities and virtues which reflect the source of all Beauty—God.  It is difficult for Blanche to accept that she is not like her fellow Sisters, yet when she does so she bears her own personal cross alongside the Crucified Christ.  Pure perfection being unobtainable, she became perfectly imperfect and in doing so became as perfect as she would ever be.  Her weakness was beautiful with the reflected beauty of the Cross. 

We all have blemishes—physical, spiritual, personality-wise—that keep us from perfection.  Sometimes, it may seem that just as you obtain one virtue another vice is brought to light.  We long for complete holiness, to be one with God, to have great spiritual beauty.  However, our concupiscent selves always seem to be getting in the way of perfection.  Though this should be a cause of grief for us, it also presents us with a great opportunity.  Even as we grieve over our faults, Jesus on the Cross grieves over them with us.  We reflect Him in that moment as much as we ever will in this valley of tears.  The world tells us that beauty is success and perfection, and that may be so; but it is precisely in our imperfection that we are brought closest to Christ.  

Blanche would have never been able to unite herself with Christ on the Cross has she not had her own cross of imperfection to bear.  As hard as my cross(es) are to bear, as difficult as my imperfection is to accept, I thank God for the opportunity to unite myself with Him, and I pray that I can do it as well as Blanche. 

Tally blogs at The Hidden Battles, and is a member of CathSorority.