I Almost Died

Well, that's an exaggeration, but what's a story without a little bit of truth stretching? And it sure felt like I could have died. Let me tell you, flying through a thunderstorm in a small plane is not an enjoyable experience. It is however, a somewhat enlightening experience.

I'd been blessed with a trip to New Orleans to visit the home and friends I had left behind three years ago. The two weeks passed too quickly, as they are apt to doing when one is in good company, and it was time to fly back to good ol' Virginia. My trip home wasn't nearly as good as my trip down, though.

To start with, I was stuck in an airport for ages. My plane was delayed, and when I finally got to DC, my other plane was delayed. I had been expecting a long lay-over but was still more than a little aggravated at this turn of events. My computer refused to hook-up to the wi-fi, I was all alone, and the airport was freakin' crowded. Yeah, yeah, first world problems, I know.

Still, I was grateful my flight wasn't cancelled like many others were. Mostly. Because I was then required to wait forever on both a shuttle bus and a runway. Finally, though, we took off. There had to be "rerouting" because of a storm in the area (which is why we took so long on the runway). I didn't think much of it. I turned on my iPod when I could and went to blissfully daydreaming (even though daylight was long gone).

I didn't think much of it either, when the flight attendant announced that there was going to be some turbulence and that he was going to sit down again. I didn't think much when we bumped along a little. I'd dealt with turbulence (and I'd be lying if I said it didn't freak me out a little bit each and every time) before and simply switched my iPod over to Matt Maher. Then I saw the lightning. And that? That I thought much about. Because right then, we hit really bad turbulence. I could see the storm from the window across the seat from me before the girl closed it.

It was around this time that I reached for my Bible. I can't normally read on planes, but I like to have my Bible with me, just in case (a habit I should get into anyway, but, at the moment, I don't have one small enough to carry around with me). The turbulence was so bad at this point that I even dropped my backpack while getting my Bible out.

Once out though, I flipped it open randomly, landed smack dab in the middle of Psalms, on Psalm 62 to be exact. And in Psalm 62, I found the following verse: "God alone is my rock and my salvation/my secure height; I shall not fall."

Well, considering my main fear here was the plane falling and dooming everyone inside, this was an immense comfort. Not long after that, we were smooth sailing (er, flying) again. Just goes to show that, just like in the Gospels, God is always there to comfort us and keep us safe in the midst of our storms.

Love is not a victory march...

...It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

--Rufus Wainwright

To Kneel or not to Kneel: That is the Question

So I'm something of a church hopper. There's one church that's about five minutes from my house, and another that's about twenty. I prefer the latter for several reasons, but I think the main one is because they kneel during the consecration there. At the former (which is technically my parish), they stand.

It really confused me the first time I was there. I didn't like it. At the time, it was mostly because it was different, not what I was used to. I had grown up going to a Catholic school, attending mass during the school week and almost every Sunday. We kneeled. Always.


Now, though, after having grown so much in my faith, it's more about what happens during the consecration that fuels my desire to kneel. That is Jesus Christ, my Savior, my Lord, physically before me. How could I not fall to my knees before Him and all that He is?


I've been trying to think of reasons for not kneeling, and the only one I've come up with is that kneeling is uncomfortable and so distracts people from focusing on the Eucharist. Honestly, I think that's a little silly. Jesus endured three hours of horrible pain, and He never lost sight of the Father or of love. I know, I know, He's Jesus. But we can at least try for Him. For me, kneeling helps me focus, reminds me of the miracle, of the sacrifice.

Come, Holy Spirit

My Confirmation class with the Bishop after mass. What a beautiful night.

Mission Complete

Remember when I was searching for the perfect white dress for Confirmation? Well, the perfect one I found was backordered until June, but I found this beauty instead:










All I need now are shoes. I'm so excited. Just five more days!

A Mad Hunt For Mass

Saturday, I slept over at my friend's house. She lives in the country, about forty minutes away from me. Because of this, I decided I'd go to mass at a church that was only fifteen minutes away from her house as opposed my normal parish. I mapquested directions before I went over Saturday and thought I was all set. Little did I know what that Sunday had in store for me.


I woke up at at ten to get to eleven o'clock mass. I dressed, ate, and brushed my teeth. I left twenty minutes before mass started to ensure I would get there with time to spare. I was concerned about the driving (the place where Meaghan lives had incredibly narrow, curvy roads with rather high speed limits and nearly no signs that tell you where you are), but I managed to follow the directions accurately. I got just where they told me to go.


The problem though? I Mapquested the wrong place. I'm not entirely sure what that address was doing on the church's website, but I was now wandering in a cul-du-sac in a random neighborhood, five minutes late.


I didn't know where to go next, so I decided to just go home. I was worried though. I didn't know if I could make it the twelve o'clock mass at my church, and I knew I couldn't go to six o'clock because I had Confirmation.


Resigned, I once again drove along. And that's when I saw it, just to the right. On impulse, I turned in and drove all along the parking lot, looking for a space. I couldn't find one (and mind you, this was a big parking lot) and had to park next door, then hike across said parking lot. I was so late (and I've never been late to church before), coming in right at the end of the Gospel reading, but I had made it.


I figure, though, that I should take this with me, make my daily hunt for Jesus as dedicated and filled with longing as my search for mass was, because right when I'm about to give up, He makes Himself known again. And, really, what more could I ask for?

Jesus is my virtue...

...But Judas is the demon I cling to.

This line was what first compelled me to listen to Lady GaGa's new song "Judas", and I have to say, I really love the song, and this quote in particular. "Judas" has created a lot of controversy, I know, and many Catholics aren't exactly fans. But the lyrics actually really speak to me.


I have often seen that the lyrics are comparing a boyfriend to Judas, that it's just an allusion. And while I'll never fully understand what Lady GaGa means in her songs, it goes deeper than that, at least for me.


"Jesus is my virtue." Heck yes, He is. He's everything that's good and pure. He makes us better, and He took our sin from us. "But Judas is the demon I cling to." And how true is that. Come on now, don't lie to yourself. Judas betrayed Jesus, and we do too, everyday. Not a single one of us is free from sin. No matter how much we love Jesus, we keep turning back to sin, again and again, and each sin betrays Him as much as Judas' kiss. And frankly, that's the only type of Satan worship I see here.


All of us long for Jesus, whether we realize it or not. The song recognizes this too ("I wanna love You"), but it also recognizes the struggles that each of us has with this ("but something keeps pulling me away from You").

Now I could be completely wrong. She could have meant something entirely different than what I got out of the song, but when I listen to it, I hear the struggle with loving Jesus, the longing for Him, and the repeated return to sin. I hear humanity, at both its best and its worst. And isn't that, portraying true humanity, helping us understand ourselves a little better, what music is really all about?

Finding Spirituality at the Barn

Last year, I started becoming friends with quite a few nondenominational Christians, all of whom went to the same church. Oftentimes, they would invite me to come with them on their high school night. The problem was, this was at the same time as my riding lesson. Once, one of my friends said not to put horses above Jesus. She was joking, of course, but it got me thinking.


I didn't pont out to her that I went to church every week and didn't put horses first. Instead, I tried to explain to her how I found Jesus through horses. It may not make sense to those who aren't horse people, but here's my attempt at trying to explain it. It's incredibly hard to write it properly, and I only hope it doesn't come off sounding too cheesy.


I remember watching Facing the Giants, and the team played for God. And that's the same with riding, or any sport really. And that's true. Plus, horseback riding teaches so many things that are required of Christ's disciples but hard to come by. It creates a patient heart. When dealing with a horse that is still learning or is bad tempered, it's absolutely essential to not get frustrated or angry. The horse can sense it, and it only makes matters worse.


You also learn about love from horses. When a horse misbehaves, he bites you or hurts, it's easy to get angry and hate him. I've had experience. But I see it much as a parent loving his child. No matter how the kid hurts you, you love them unconditionally. The same goes for horses.


There was a time when I couldn't get the mare I ride to come in out of the field. She'd back up, throw her head up, balk, try and bite me. It was incredibly frustrating. I'd be in the field for hours at a time. Sometimes, I would just stand there and cry from frustration. And even though it was partially her fault, I'd bury my face in her mane until I got ahold of myself. She always let me. (I've figured out that she's completely fine and happy to be with me; she just doesn't like it when I make her come in and work). We got through that time, thankfully, and it taught me so much about loving a horse and the patience required, lessons that have only been reinforced when I actually ride her.


So riding, like all other sports, has important lessons and requirments that can be used in everyday life. But with horses, it goes deeper than that. Just cantering around an arena can free the soul because there's something about swinging onto the back of a horse, and you're no longer just a person. You're a team. There is no longer Person and Horse, but rather one being, as if you've been made for each other. And the beauty of it is that you have. God gave us horses to teach us these things, to help us find happiness, to show us the beauty He created.


As John Steinbeck put it, "A man on a horse is spiritually as well as physically bigger than a man on foot."

Women in White

I looked at the date today and realized that my Confirmation is in 3 weeks. And the first thing I thought is, "Oh gosh, I still need a dress." But do you know how hard it is to find a cute, classy white dress, something appropriate to wear to school let alone to your Confirmation?


It's pretty hard.


I've been online shopping for ages, and a few weeks ago my mom and I went to the mall near my house. They have a Nordstrom, White House Black Market, Penny's, Macy's, and H&M. Nothing.


It's an interesting reflection of our fashion industry though. I love the industry, don't get me wrong, but it really shouldn't be this hard to find a modest, white dress, that looks nice. I don't want to look like a nun or a frumpy old lady, but I certainly don't want to go out wearing skin tight clothes with my body hanging out. There needs to be more in-between. Class in clothing (and of course in behavior) is a must.


I know I don't have to wear a white dress, but I really like the whole traditional feel and the representation of purity that it brings. After all, on the three important days in a girl's church life (First communion, confirmation, and marriage), she wears white. Actually, I think this concept is really beautiful. Nothing shows the beauty of God more than a pure girl.


That being said, I now have three weeks to find a good dress, or have to wear my sister's graduation dress (not that that's bad; it's just nice to have one of your own). Mission: Accepted.