Double baptism + giveaway winner!

Thanks to everyone who entered the giveaway! I loved reading about all your cool traditions and days that are special to you. The winner was Claire Rebecca. Claire Rebecca, please email me at tmcbarber@gmail.com so we can work out getting the book to you!

Frankie and his "twin cousin" were baptized together on Sunday. The ceremony was beautiful!

I had hoped for a peaceful, happy baby, but after sleeping all through Mass, Frankie decided to throw propriety to the winds and scream bloody murder through the ceremony. Silly baby!

Have you heard the superstition that a baby who cries at his baptism is going to have a religious vocation? Frank said, "If it's true that a baby who cries is destined to become a priest, I think our boy is going to be the first North American pope!"

Meanwhile, his sweet little cousin slept angelically through the whole thing!

My sister and her husband were Frankie's godparents. 

And my parents were godparents to my sister's baby.

 

How does your family pick godparents? I was raised with the idea that godparents should be family members, since that offers some guarantee that they will remain a part of your child's life and you won't lose touch with them. But I know a lot of people choose friends or spiritual mentors instead, and really, it's not fair to Frank if we always go with a "family only" rule since none of his family is Catholic. Stuff to consider for the future!

After the baptism, we had a party at my parents' house to celebrate the babies, and took a million photos of all the family members with Frankie.

Here is my side of the family—Frankie with his dad, uncle, grandfather and great-grandfather. As you can see, Frankie was really loving life that day. :p

And with the Barber side of the family—uncle, grandpa and dad:

We did get one picture where Frankie wasn't screaming! He just looks deeply offended. Here are all three of the Frank Barbers:

And here are "the five Franks"—from left to right, my godfather Uncle Frank, my father-in-law Frank, baby Francisco, my husband Frank and my grandfather Francisco. Man, there are a lot of Franks in my life!

 

I also got some "four generations" pictures with my grandparents—here I am with my dad and his mom:

And my mom with her mom:

It was so special to have my grandparents there to meet the babies. They were so happy to meet their first great-grandchildren. My mom's mom never wanted to let them out of her sight!

Later in the day, Frankie calmed down a bit. My new favorite photo of him is this one that Kathryn took, in a darling outfit she gave him:

Aaaaaand last but not least... I thought you guys might enjoy this hilarious picture that my little sister put on Facebook in honor of Father's Day. It's from a family vacation about 16 years ago.

Is my dad not the original hipster? And can you tell which one is me?

A pilgrimage on Saturday

Saturday morning, Frank and I set off on a pilgrimage. A real-life, honest-to-goodness, bona fide pilgrimage.

Maybe you're thinking, "A what now? You mean like from Canterbury Tales? That sounds awfully ... Middle Ages."

Maybe you're thinking, "Oh yeah, a pilgrimage. Always a good time. I went on one myself, last month."

Either way, yes.

Here's the back story: Frank took the bar exam at the end of July, but he doesn't get his exam results until mid-October. He's anxious about them, as you can imagine, so he decided to make a pilgrimage (a time of intense prayer) after the exam to pray for his results. He invited me to join him and I was all for it. Conveniently we were able to time it to coincide with the day of prayer and fasting for Syria that Pope Francis called for on Saturday.

I've been on several pilgrimages before, most notably to Rome my sophomore year of college and to the Holy Land my senior year—both incredible experiences. But Frank had never been on a pilgrimage, and as it had been a while for me I didn't quite feel qualified to direct the expedition. We needed to do some research.

For some reason I had a really hard time finding anything online about how to make a pilgrimage. Do you know of any good resources out there? I really couldn't find anything. There needs to be a "how to make a Catholic pilgrimage" website out there, but right now there isn't. Finally I gave up and just asked my mom and her friends. Which worked out perfectly as we learned a lot from them.

I learned that a pilgrimage, as a journey to a holy site, is a microcosm of our life on this earth. The holy place symbolizes Heaven, while our journey—at times difficult yet imbued overall with a sacred, solemn joy—represents our life on Earth as Christians.

I learned that people have been making pilgrimages since long before the Middle Ages and Canterbury Tales. It's among the most ancient of human traditions—in fact Jesus, Mary and Joseph themselves went on pilgrimages (remember when they went to Jerusalem and Jesus got lost in the temple for three days? That was a pilgrimage.).  I can't tell you how powerful, how beautiful, it is to participate in a custom so ancient and still rich with meaning.

I learned that you can pick any holy site you like for a pilgrimage. One woman told me that she makes pilgrimages to the grave of her little daughter who died in infancy. The little one is now a saint in Heaven, so her burial place is a perfect site for pilgrimage.

I learned that pilgrims typically pray aloud and sing hymns on their way to the holy place. For a short trip like we were planning, just one day, my mom recommended praying five decades of the Rosary on the way there, five more at the pilgrimage site, and five on the way back. She recommended praying the mysteries of the day at the site, the mysteries of the day before on the way there, and the next day's mysteries on the way home. (Since we went on a Saturday, that meant Sorrowful on the way there, Joyful at the site, and Glorious on the way home.) That worked out perfectly for us.

Armed with all of this knowledge, our next step was to pick a pilgrimage site.

There are plenty of spectacular holy sites near Chicago, from the National Shrine of St. Therese near my parents to Holy Hill in Wisconsin (where my dad takes my little siblings for annual father-daughter and father-son pilgrimages), and a little farther out there's even the incredible site in Wisconsin where Our Lady appeared to a young farm girl. We finally settled on the Marytown shrine in Libertyville, since neither of us had been there before and we'd heard great things about it.

We made it to Marytown just in time for Mass at noon. The church is modeled after St. Paul Outside the Walls in Rome, which just happens to be Frank's and my favorite basilica (sorry, St. Peter's). Such a neat coincidence.

We had a great time exploring the grounds—we were delighted to find a "Rosary walk" with little gardens designed around each set of mysteries.

Even more interesting than the gardens were the museums inside. The shrine has a museum for St. Maximilian Kolbe (it's really hard to find—you have to ask at the front desk and be escorted down the elevator), and on Saturday they also had a special exhibit about the Shroud of Turin.

On our way down to the Maximilian Kolbe museum, we were delighted to discover a sweet little exhibit of ... nun dolls. It was so random, but so adorable. Every major religious order was represented with a cute little doll dressed in the appropriate habit. I've never seen anything quite like it.

I kept thinking this would be a great place to bring a little girl who was learning about the different religious orders. I also kind of wanted to hug all the dolls ... and maybe even bring one home. They really were absolutely darling.

We looked extra-hard for the religious orders that my friends belong to. We found the Nashville Dominicans easily enough, where my friend Sister Angela Marie belongs, and then we looked for the Franciscan nuns, where my friend Marilis belongs (I can't remember her religious name—the perils of knowing someone well before she becomes a nun).  Finally we looked for the Carmelites, like my friend Sarah (I also can't remember her religious name), but there were several different kinds of Carmelites and we didn't know which one was right so finally we gave up.

The Maximilian Kolbe museum was really something. Its official name is the Holocaust Museum, and that's fitting since the museum was only partly about Kolbe and mostly about the Holocaust as a whole. I kept thinking what a great place it would be to bring kids who are learning about the Holocaust in school (or doing a homeschool unit on it). It reminded Frank and I of the amazing Holocaust Museum in downtown DC.

One especially great item: this painting of Franciszek Gajowniczek, the man for whom Kolbe gave his life. According to his biography, Franciszek lived to a ripe old age and spent the rest of his life spreading the word about Kolbe's courageous sacrifice. Franciszek lobbied hard for Kolbe's sainthood and was honored with being present at Kolbe's canonization.

It was an incredible visit. After we got home and our pilgrimage was over, I asked Frank how he liked his first pilgrimage. He said he loved it, so I think the day was a success.

So, that was our little pilgrimage experience. If you've been a pilgrim yourself, do you have a favorite site to visit? How would you explain a pilgrimage to someone who's never made one? And if you've never heard of such a thing before, do you have any questions about it? :)

Sposi Novelli: How we met the Pope

Well friends, we did it. We met Pope Francis. We talked to him, held his hands, and even got his personal blessing on our brand-new marriage.

Here's how we stumbled our way into this chance of a lifetime.

I was in Candida's class as a college sophomore, and on the first day, we all had to go around the room and give an interesting fact about ourselves. I'll never forget Candida's fun fact.

"I got married in England this summer," she said, "and the pope personally blessed my wedding."

Stop the presses. Was she serious?! I couldn't wait for class to be over to ask her a million questions.

Sure enough, she had met the pope (Benedict at the time) and she'd worn her pretty white wedding dress with all the other brides. She said, "Any Catholic newlyweds can do it!"

That was the first time I'd ever heard of the Sposi Novelli program. I vowed to do the same thing when I got married.

And five years later, I did.

Grace before meals

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I grew up saying grace before every meal, but I got lazy about it in college. Dining halls aren't exactly the most conducive places for prayer.

That all changed a few years ago, when I was out to dinner at an Irish pub in DC. My friends and I, led by a friend who was discerning the priesthood, paused to bow our heads and pray before eating.

As we began eating, a sweet old man came up to us with tears in his eyes. He thanked us for pausing to pray. "It's so good," he said, "to see young people saying grace."

I was so moved by that experience. I never realized such a simple act as praying in public could encourage other people and give them hope. Ever since, I try to make a point of praying before meals, especially when I'm in public.

What about you? Do you usually pray before sitting down to eat?

Things We'll Miss About DC, Part 2

The thing I'll miss most about this city is, without a doubt, this place:

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The Catholic Information Center, fondly known as the CIC.

It's hard to put into words how incredible this place is. It contains an amazing bookstore—every time I go there, I want to buy the place out. It has a gorgeous chapel that offers daily Mass and Adoration, and regular Confession. And the lectures and discussion groups that meet at the CIC feed the mind as well as the soul.

"The CIC is the home of Catholic intellectual life in the District," someone once told me. Truer words were never spoken. It's also the closest Catholic tabernacle to the White House—just a few blocks away.

To me, the best thing about this amazing place is the community that's grown up around it. From its stellar employees to the store volunteers to the speakers at all the amazing lectures, everyone connected with the CIC is fantastic. Every time I go there, I connect with old friends and meet fascinating new ones.

I like to say that the CIC contains everything necessary for the good life: books and intellectual life, a chapel with the sacraments, community and fellowship, and even wine (during happy hour). I first visited there just a week after I moved to DC, and over the past two years it's become another home for me in this town. It's not much of an exaggeration to say that it's my favorite place to be in the world.

If you ever get a chance to visit the CIC, please do! Browse around and buy a book or icon, or just say hi to Our Lord in the tabernacle. And if you see anyone who works there, tell them Tess said hi. I sure am going to miss that place.

How to be the best Confirmation Sponsor proxy ever!

Saturday night was my second year in a row being a proxy sponsor at someone's Confirmation. You could say I'm pretty much a pro. :)

So two years in, here's what I've learned so far:

1. Don't forget the card!!!

As a sponsor/proxy, your job is to stand behind your confirmandi with your right hand on their shoulder for the moment they get confirmed. The other part of your job is holding up a little card that says their confirmation name on it, so the priest can call them by the right "new" name when he confirms them.

For example:

^^That's Dean getting confirmed! He took the name Thomas More.^^

Last year, I forgot the card!! So dramatic! My sisters had to pass it up to me. That was a rookie mistake; this year I wore a dress with pockets and stuck the card in my pocket as soon as I got it.

So if you're a forgetful type (like me), wear clothes with pockets.

2. Bring a crowd.

Dean only has about four Catholic friends, and since his wife and Frank (his actual sponsor) couldn't be there, he and I were going to be the only ones in attendance.

But it didn't seem right for him to enter the Church family without a little welcome party, so I asked a few friends to come too. Our good friend Jackie also came and brought friends.

Some of the guests had never met Dean before, but as one girl said, "I had to come to welcome my new brother!"

3. Bring tissues.

Right before the Consecration, I heard a small gasp. Looking over at Dean I saw that he was weeping. He truly believes in the Real Presence, and he was so overjoyed to finally be able to receive Our Lord that he wept with happiness.

As I saw the tears running down Dean's face, I almost started to cry myself. His faith was so beautiful to witness.

Fortunately he planned ahead and brought a pack of tissues. I passed them to him as needed. After communion, he wept again, whispering to me, "I can only comprehend the infinite through the particular—so all I can think of is Aslan from Narnia." What a beautiful image.

I asked God to give me a faith like Dean's. As Jackie said after Mass, "Dean, your wife is a lucky woman."

4. Get a photo of your confirmandi!!

After Mass is a great time for photos. Get pictures with the priest, with the family, with friends, etc.

Instead of a picture of Dean, I'll give you this one that Colleen and I took later that evening.

And on that note... joining the Easter outfit link-up over on Camp Patton.

5. Last but certainly not least, pray for your confirmandi!

Converting to Catholicism is a brave and bold step, one that involves a lot of intellectual honesty and that often happens in the face of family and friends' disapproval. Our newest brothers and sisters in the Church need our prayers—just as we need theirs.

When Frank entered the Church last Easter, my mom reminded him that conversion isn't over after the Easter Vigil. Rather, this is only the first step in a lifelong process of conversion as we seek every day to turn our hearts to Christ (this applies to cradle Catholics as much as to converts!). With the Vigil Mass, the newest Catholics have begun a lifelong journey of learning to imitate Our Lord. May our prayers be with them!

Happy Easter, dear readers! Tomorrow, a ridiculous story is coming up about a very large purchase I made last week. Stay tuned. :)

In spite of that, we call this Friday good

"The dripping blood our only drink, / The bloody flesh our only food: / In spite of which we like to think / That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood— / Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good." — T.S. Eliot

Last night before I left work in the evening, I signed in to check Facebook, and I saw that someone had posted a link to this article about the Holy Father's visit to a juvenile detention center for Holy Thursday Mass.

I read that one of the inmates, an orphan, said on hearing the news, "At last I shall get to meet someone who says he is my father!"

I read that yesterday, the Holy Father washed the feet of twelve inmates and kissed their feet when he finished.

Can you imagine the backgrounds some of these kids have—to be in prison as a minor? I can't imagine what they've gone through and how much they've suffered.

And as I read about the Holy Father's act of love, sitting there at my desk, I started to cry.

I mean, he's the pope, the head of the world's largest church. And there he is, bowing down in all gentleness and humility, to give love to people in the lowest rung of society.

I thought about Our Lord sitting down for dinner with publicans and prostitutes, and I thought, That's what love looks like. That's what Christ looks like.

For the first time in a while, I really stopped and thought about what that meant. Christ loves us. He loves us so much he died for us—I can hardly wrap my mind around what that means.

I thought of that line from one of my favorite hymns: "I will break their hearts of stone—give them hearts for love alone."

I thought about the complete and total, utterly unselfish love Pope Francis showed, in imitation of Christ.

I wondered if I could ever love like that. Give like that. Judge no one and instead make myself the first to give compassion, and the last to ask anything for myself. I know I'm so far from that, but my love for the Holy Father and admiration for his Christlike charity inspired me. I mean, before Pope Francis, I didn't even know it was possible to love a person you've never met so much.

As I thought about all these things, I could feel my heart shattering—the rules and judgments and little acts of pride I had built up over months and years, cracking like ice. My heart broke with love for our Holy Father, and through him for Christ.

How blessed we are in our Holy Father. He is criticized by both the right and the left. He is a sign of contradiction. Nobody knows quite what to do with him. Yet shining through him, from a pure and holy soul, is the utter love of a Father for his children and of Christ for his Church.

His goodness breaks our hearts so they can be remade in Christ—the greatest gift we could receive this Good Friday.

I love him already

Our family has a new father. Our church has a new pope, the gentle and humble Pope Francis.

Source

I had EWTN live-streaming on my computer at work all afternoon, to the bemusement of my Lutheran office-mate. My Catholic colleagues also had the news on in their offices, and we ran around very excitedly discussing the news.

Previously my roommates and I had agreed that we would automatically have a party whatever day the new pope was elected, so the first thing I did on seeing the white smoke was send out emails, texts, and Facebook messages: "POPE PARTY AT MY HOUSE TONIGHT!!!"

A small crowd of us gathered for "Pope Francis cake" (aka a strawberry and whipped cream cake I picked up at the grocery store), mugs of hot chocolate spiked with Irish cream, chips and salsa, cookies, and whatever other snacks Colleen and I found lying around the kitchen. Guests brought Argentinian wine (clever) and craft beers, and one couple brought their two adorable children. The three-year-old girl looked up at me very seriously and asked as I took her coat, "Did you hear the news? There's a new pope." Thank you, dear, that's why we're having this party.

It wasn't quite as crazy epic as the neighborhood party my mum threw in 2005, when she got the grocery-store ladies to write "Habemus papam!" on a sheet cake. But we toasted to the new pope, discussed his name at length, and shared what we know of his background. We even had a Baptist friend stop by, in a sweet gesture of ecumenism, to congratulate us partying Catholics (and drink with us, of course).

What a lovely, lovely day yesterday was. I can't wait to get to know our new pope—and to meet him for a little while on our honeymoon in May.

And the rest of the week is shaping up to be just as good—Frank is driving down to DC for his spring break, and this weekend we're flying to Miami for the family bridal shower. I'm counting down the hours til he gets here!

The God of Jacob

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My daily Mass resolutions have been flagging these past few months, but I got it together enough to go today. My stated intention was to pray for the conclave and in particular for my "adopted" cardinal (I can't pronounce his name so I just call him "K.N."). But I found my thoughts wandering.

Last night I had dinner with a friend who, last fall, was trying to figure out if she should leave the Protestant faith of her parents and become Catholic. She spoke freely of her interest at the time, and asked me many questions. I did what I could to encourage her—lent her books, offered her my prayers—but as we sat at dinner last night I knew she had decided not to convert. She said nothing about it, but it was evident in her silence, so different from our last meeting.

I thought of her today, and I thought of our friends Dean and Morgan; Dean is entering the Church this Easter but Morgan has decided to wait—to learn more, to pray more and study more. I thought of something I had said to her when we talked on the phone last week, as she worried if she had made the right decision: "God has a plan for you that is different from His plan for anyone else. Don't measure yourself against Dean or Frank or anybody else. Every person is on his or her own timeline."

I thought, too, of something our former Holy Father said in an interview before he became pope. "How many ways are there to get to Heaven?" a reporter asked him, expecting he would say only one: the Catholic Church. But instead he answered, "As many as there are people." Think of that—each of us, on our own time and in our own way, drawn by grace towards the God who loves us. That's one of my favorite quotes. I repeated it to Morgan and she said she found it comforting.

I thought of all these things, my mind whirling as I sat in church, and then turned my attention to the Scriptures. In the first reading the angel led Ezekiel through a river that got higher and higher til he could no longer cross. I thought of the necessity of faith—of taking a plunge through the unknown in confidence that God will carry you.

But it was the psalm that really caught my attention. The congregation repeated, "The Lord of hosts is with us; our stronghold is the God of Jacob." Such powerful words. I thought of Jacob, picturing a long-bearded patriarch in an ancient era. What a marvel that we share the same faith—a faith as old as humankind, a current that has run across millenia without pause.

I thought of what we Catholics believe happens in a papal conclave; that the Holy Spirit guides the cardinals to choose the successor of St. Peter, the rock upon which Christ built His Church. The path of the Christian Church has taken many twists and turns, as those called to serve God's people often fail at the task; Jacob himself knew a little of those failures in his brothers' sins against him. But he knew, too, the experience of brotherhood in faith, and he knew what it was to have a place in a mighty tradition that existed before us and will continue to exist long after we are gone.

Then I thought of what it means to have a place in the Christian tradition. For a moment, I mentally left my spot in the pew at St. Aloysius and allowed myself a vision of all the noontime Masses going on throughout Washington, D.C. Then I thought of all the noontime Masses throughout the world—and of Masses this morning and this afternoon and evening too, in places like Italy, Nigeria, and Hong Kong, and Trenton, New Jersey, too. All around the world, countless Catholic men and women are kneeling in prayer today, uniting our prayers in an appeal for God to guide our cardinals. Today is not just, as secular sources say, about "history in the making." It's about the making of individual souls—Dean's and Frank's and Morgan's, and yours and mine too—as each of us will be forever changed when God gives us a new Holy Father, the vicar of Christ on earth.

And with that, my thoughts finally centered on the cardinals in Rome today, who like Jacob play a role in this great human pageant that is at once blink-of-an-eye brief and immortal as each human soul. For every man casting a vote today, there are millions more Christians whose prayers are with them. I hope those cardinals know—I hope they share that vision I had at Mass today—of the combined offering of the faithful on their behalf. I trust they know, and feel bolstered and supported by the knowledge. As we wait for the white smoke, we keep praying, uniting with each other and with our cardinals in a worldwide beseeching and a worldwide trusting. While we ask discernment for our cardinals, we don't worry. We know that what we need, God will give us.

Don't We Need These Words?

"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

These words are perhaps, for me, the most powerful moment of the liturgical year. How our world needs their message.

They are words to which modern man is all but deaf—and words he desperately needs to hear.

With the departure of our Holy Father, welcome to a Lent unlike any we have known.

These words give me pause for contemplation:

“Pope John Paul II remained in office so that he might show us how to suffer and how to die. Pope Benedict XVI is leaving the Papal Office so that he might show us how to live in humble honesty.”
— Sr. Mary Theresa, O.P (DSMME)

Our beloved Holy Father's humility is almost beyond the comprehension of modern man. He gives witness that the papacy is not about power, but about prayer; not about show, but about suffering.

In a world where power is worshipped, our Father's loving resignation, in all of its incomprehensibility, may be the witness we need the most.

Last year's Ash Wednesday post

Retrospective

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One of the greatest blessings I've experienced in this life was knowing Matthew, who passed away one year ago today.

I remember going to work a year ago and just staring at the wall. I couldn't work, I couldn't focus on anything; all I could do was stare straight ahead of me and put my head in my hands. Nothing could compute in my brain because I could not wrap my head around his death.

That year I called November "the month of death," and it still seems to me to bring more hard things than any other month. Perhaps that's why Thanksgiving is in November -- a holiday to remind us that this life is so good, and how much we have to be thankful for. I'm fortunate too that Frank's birthday is in this month -- another reason to celebrate and give thanks.

A year ago today I was on the second day of a novena for my future husband. Matt's funeral was the last day of the novena  -- and the day Frank fell in love with me, literally hours after I finished praying it. It might seem sacrilegious to say that Matt brought us together. It might sound depressing (and it sure sounds awkward when I'm telling the story) that we fell in love while driving to and from a funeral. But personally, I think it's beautiful. Death is a natural part of life and suffering is what makes life real. That start to our relationship put it on a more serious and thoughtful level from the first. Our emotions were raw that day and we were both very, very honest -- I don't know that there could be a better circumstance than that to get to know another person. To fall in love that way, while having hard and sincere conversations about religion and death and suffering, is in my mind the greatest gift God gave our relationship. We saw the most real versions of each other and we both fell hard for what we saw.

Faith is a funny thing. This past week I have seen so many little signs, guiding marks along the trail, pointing me onward. Together they add up to -- not that much. Just a half-dozen little coincidences and instances of perfect timing. But the timing has been a little too perfect and the coincidences a little too beautiful. It's enough to show me that "there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will." Or as Colleen likes to say, "You are not the author of your life story." You're the protagonist, maybe, but another hand holds the pen.

This morning we attended a Memorial Mass for Matthew at Caldwell Chapel (shown above). I shed some tears when the priest read aloud a message to Matt from one of his friends. It still seems so senseless a year later that a healthy 27-year-old died so suddenly of complications from pneumonia. Again I felt that resistance and rebellion that haunted me at the time: why, God? But I thought of what I have learned this year, about acceptance and grace and trust. Matt changed my life forever -- and I knew the man for less than six months. Just think what he meant to so many, many others.

The greatest thing I learned from Matthew is that other people matter most of all. Time spent with loved ones is never wasted. For Matthew's sake and in his memory, please hug someone you love today or tell them how much you love them. And let's give thanks for this life, which is so short and so very, very beautiful.

Theology of Hiking

A few weeks ago Frank and I went on a surprise 11-mile hike. Surprise is the key word here.

We were planning to hike to Raven's Rock, about two miles down the Appalachian Trail. Frank had been there with his college friends a few years before and wanted to show me that pretty part of Virginia. But a wrong turn led us on a different adventure.

The morning started well; Frank surprised me with our favorite hot drinks.

We parked a mile from the trail and on our way in noticed a sign ridden with bullet-holes. Hunting and shotgun territory.

The trail was starkly beautiful, even in wet November.

But when we reached this sign, we went right instead of left - our fateful mistake.

We ended up hiking for almost 7 hours in our quest to find Raven's Rock. Little did we know we were walking away from it the whole time!

We had so much fun though. We talked and sang and told stories as we trudged.

We got so worn out as time went on! I began to make up little theories to pass the time (what? doesn't everyone do that?) and my favorite was about the white paint marking the trees along the trail.

Between every white mark there came a point when we couldn't see the next one, but we kept on going because we believed another one was coming.

"It's an analogy for faith," I told Frank. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

For Christians, there is always another sign of God's guidance coming, even if you can't see it yet. Just like those little white marks on the Appalachian trail.

I mentioned this theory to Frank at some point along the hike. I discussed doing a blog post all about my new theory called "The Theology of Hiking." Better yet, I would write an article! A whole book! Frank pointed out that such a book probably already exists.

Every time we couldn't see the next white mark, I would embellish on my theory. After a few hours of this, Frank said, "Have you ever seen those dolls of Woody from Toy Story, where you pull a string on his back and he repeats the same phrases over and over? You're kind of reminding me of Woody right now."

So I switched to singing inspiring pop ballads instead. I believe Frank especially enjoyed my rendition of Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me." It was soulful.

After three and a half hours, we finally gave up on Raven's Rock and stopped at a random scenic overlook instead.

We ate our picnic with fingers stiff from the cold. It felt awesome to look down the mountain we'd just climbed.

I thought the trail was a loop and that we were nearing the end of it, but I was wrong. I discovered at this point that we would have to retrace all of our steps. I was the opposite of a happy camper.

Luckily I reeeeally like hiking.

We began to get worried as it got later that we wouldn't make it back before dark.

I had a big scare near the end of the hike. We were about two miles from the trailhead when we noticed a lot of deer running by us, prancing past with their fluffy white tails.

Then I heard a gunshot. Hunters.

I was wearing a fluffy white hat that looked an awful lot like the deer's tails.

So I hid my hat in my pocket and wore Frank's hat for the rest of the hike, just in case.

When we got finally home, Frank calculated the distance via Google Maps.

11 miles, round trip, and we didn't train for it.

We were sore for days afterwards. But man, it was fun. I can't wait to go hiking again.

And after surviving 7 hours alone in the woods, hiking 11 miles, and enduring quite a lot of my singing, our relationship is in pretty darn good shape. If we could take on that, I suspect we could take on anything.

Resources for Converts: Common Catholic Prayers

Being a convert to Catholicism is confusing!

Not only do you have a whole new theology to learn, but there's also all this stuff you have to figure out -- funny Catholic things like scapulars, indulgences, the Rosary, and even just genuflecting in church.

Besides the prayers in the Mass, there are a number of other little prayers that Catholics memorize and whip out for all kinds of occasions. After Frank entered the Church in May, he was excited to profess the teachings he had studied for years, but a lot of the cultural practices threw him for a loop—like when my family said the Angelus at noon, or when our congregation recited the St. Michael the Archangel prayer after daily Mass.

So in order to acclimate him to some Catholic habits of prayer, I compiled a little guide to common Catholic prayers. I included descriptions of when each prayer is used, which Frank said he found helpful.

If you know someone who might find these guides helpful, here are links to them:

A Compendium of Common Catholic Prayers

I also made a little "Rosary cheat sheet" so he can follow along easily when we pray the rosary together:

Rosary "Cheat Sheet"

And the disclaimer that I told Frank:

Although a lot of the enclosed are prayers that Catholics have memorized, definitely don't feel the need to memorize them immediately, or work them into your schedule right away (although if you want to, great!). This is supposed to be a resource you can come back to over time.

In addition to this very simple little guide, I also love the Handbook of Prayers (or even the more extensive Daily Roman Missal) if you want to delve more deeply into the rituals of daily prayer.

Another really helpful resource is the Magnificat, a monthly subscription with the daily Scripture readings for Mass, AND lovely little meditations and prayers for each day. It's a wonderful guide!

Readers, do you know someone who might find this helpful? Or do you have any other prayers you would suggesting adding to my little list?


Suggestions from readers:

Deanna recommends the Miles Christi prayer book - "it's got everything!"

Holly recommends the NAC Manual of Prayers - she says, "When my house was broken into last year, I was more upset to lose this than my laptop." Convinced me! :)

what really matters

My polling place here in Virginia opened at 6:00 a.m. and I didn't want to miss work, so I woke up at 5:45 this morning, walked half a mile, and was in line to vote by 6:05 a.m. When I complained last night about the early wake-up, Frank teased me: "It's your civic duty." Thanks, hon. But I remembered his comment the next morning. I'm exercising my rights as an American, I thought, and that sustained me through the walk, the cold, and the hour-long wait for my turn to vote.

Then I went home to make breakfast for Serena, who slept over at my house last night. Several months ago I found a nail salon that offers $35 mani-pedis (I know!) and yesterday we finally made it over there, after which we had dinner at what is now my new favorite sports bar. We discovered it by accident; we were standing outside, deliberating over where to go for dinner, when a waiter stuck his head out the door and said, "Just so you know, ladies, we have 49-cent wings and half-off burgers tonight." That settled it. Wings and burgers for girls' night! The waiter's name was Anthony, as we discovered since he served us and became our new best friend, pretty much. This place also had the Eagles game on, which allowed me to boast shamelessly to Frank that I was watching football without him even being there. So, you know, major bonus points (for me and the sports bar), and I'm definitely going back.

Anyway, although I was excited about voting this morning, I could not be happier that election season is finally going to be over. People are just kind of obnoxious before an election, you know? My newsfeed is crammed with judgmental Facebook statuses and snarky comments - coming from both sides, too. Part of me wishes people would just stop posting their political opinions, but the truth is, it's not the opinions that bother me - it's the reducing of the other side to a two-dimensional caricature. There are valid reasons to vote either way in the election, and as much as I have strong opinions in one direction, I don't think that those who vote differently are stupid or bad people. I sure don't like it when they think that of me, anyway.

A few months ago I signed up to have the daily Scripture readings for Mass sent to my inbox every morning, and I was curious what the readings would be today. Somehow they always seem to go really well with whatever is going on in my life. Here's what I found this morning, from Phillippians 2:5-11::

"Brothers and sisters: Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and, found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

Pretty appropriate to Election Day, if you think about it. Both sides are like "We want power!!!" and God is like "Ha, nice try."

I thought about that reading in the context of the election. Genuine power comes with loving service - "obedient to death" - rather than from the puffed-up pageantry and empty rhetoric of politicians. The power of God has outlasted governments much older and mightier than ours.

The things that really matter in our lives - little things like going out for burgers with friends and bigger things like loving our family and worshipping God - aren't going to change because of one election. In the big ol' grand scheme of things, our American government, and this election in particular, are of little to no importance.

It was really comforting to think all that and to put this political hoopla in perspective. But I'm still wearing my lucky red skirt and scarf today, just in case. ;)

all hallows eve

Last night I took Frank to one of my very favorite DC events - the annual All Saints Vigil at the Dominican House of Studies. The Vigil is not a Mass but comes from the Liturgy of Hours and is a remembrance of the saints, a celebration honoring holy men and women who came before us.

Every year the chapel fills up quickly - we arrived an hour and a half early to get good seats.

The friars chose beautiful readings about various saints for the service. There was an account by St. Aelfric of the life of the incredibly brave St. Edmund (Frank leaned over and asked me if we can name one of our sons Aelfric... no).

They read a selection from the papal letter Fides et Ratio (Faith and Reason) by Blessed John Paul II. I thought of Frank reading that letter as a college student. He attended a very small, very Protestant school at the time, and he felt torn by internal conflict between human reason and divine faith. When he began searching for answers relating to "faith and reason," a friend told him about that letter. Reading it drew him towards the Catholic Church.

There was a reflection on holiness (you can read it here). I treasured hearing this quote from Mother Teresa: "God has not called us to be successful; He has called us to be faithful." We fail at everything we attempt to do, the speaker said; we fail again and again, but what matters is not perfection but that we keep trying.

At the end of the service, after much singing in Latin and reading of gorgeous old prayers, it was time for the litany of the saints. We each took a slender candle and lit it, the flame passed hand to hand. Then we processed out to the long, dimly-lit corridor and lined its shadowy walls, holding our candles and still singing.

photo credit

I stood in the hallway next to Frank, clutching my candle and softly entoning "pra-ay for us" after the name of each saint. What an unusual way to spend Halloween, I thought. It won't be like this someday. It's no coincidence that the vigil was filled with young adults - those too old to dress up for Halloween and too young to have little ones to take trick-or-treating. This time in my life, when I have the luxury of spending an evening in gentle stillness - on Halloween, no less! - is quickly passing. 

The Halloweens I see in the years to come are full of fun-sized snickers and clever costumes and babies dressed as lions - not votive candles or Latin singing or white-robed monks (except ones in costume). I am looking forward, so much, to those days and their joys. But last night was a reminder not to get ahead of myself and to enjoy this time while it lasts. I tried to absorb a little bit of the quietness and peace that were radiating through that hallway. I tried to take it in so I can keep it and hold it and carry it with me in the days and years to come.

Where are all the cradle Catholics?

Courtesy of BettyBeguiles.com

I just finished reading Style, Sex & Substance for my book club party (which I'm hosting at my house tonight. Hurray!). It was genuinely awesome. There were practical tips on finding time to pray, reflections on marriage and motherhood, discussion of how Catholics can reach out to the secular culture and pretty much anything else that might be of interest to a Catholic woman (or man. Frank read the chapter on marriage out of curiosity and he loved her advice on how to treat your husband, or boyfriend in this case).

There were also a lot of conversion stories. Wow, were there a lot of conversion stories. It seemed like every single contributor had converted to Catholicism, either as an adult or as a child with older family members.

It made me think of a funny little fact I've been pondering. Frank's law school has a Catholic student association called the Thomas More Society and he is close friends with the guy who was its president for 2011-2012. When his friend graduated, Frank decided to run for president and after an unopposed election he was named president for the coming school year. When he was elected, he had been Catholic for less than a month. I was and am so incredibly proud of him for taking on this important role - but I couldn't help wondering, Why didn't any cradle Catholics step up to the plate?

Or consider this article in the Washington Post that was the talk of the blogosphere last month. It's about a group of young Catholic women who are trying to modernize its message on birth control. It's a great piece about Catholics trying to engage the culture and be vocal advocates for a different and countercultural message. But look a little closer. All of these women - Ashley, Jennifer - all these outspoken public defenders of the Church - they're all recent converts.

All of these little facts added up to a big question in my head: why are the church's most outspoken defenders almost always its newest members? I've been thinking about it and haven't reached an answer.

Is it because cradle Catholics don't care about the Church's public image? I really don't think so. I'm a cradle Catholic and I am very conscious of how I act, of the things I say and write and of the clothes I wear as outward manifestations of my Christian vocation. My (many) cradle Catholic friends think along the same lines. I would say we definitely care.

Is it because cradle Catholics have been struggling against the culture for so long that they're battle-worn? Secularists and seriously religious people are often speaking completely different languages, making dialogue well-nigh impossible because the very terms of the debate are defined differently. Perhaps cradle Catholics are tired of defending ourselves to people who don't speak our language. Maybe converts simply have more energy for the fight.

Or is it because cradle Catholics are so sheltered from the secular world that they don't see a need to publicly defend their faith? Maybe all their friends are Catholic so they don't think a public stand is necessary. But of course, that's the most ridiculous suggestion of all. You have only to turn on the TV, drive past the billboards on the highway, open a magazine or walk through a mall to see that many sources promote a view of the human person that is inconsistent with Catholic philosophy. (The Catholic view, in case you are wondering, is that human beings are made in God's likeness and that this divine filiation confers a unique and powerful dignity that is deserving of the utmost respect in each individual. Reverence for human dignity, in case you hadn't noticed, is not easy to find in a lot of pop culture and mass media.)

I asked Frank for his opinion, as a recent convert, and he offered the following: "Perhaps it's just that we are so excited to be Catholic we want to take on the world, whereas cradle Catholics know that its a marathon and not a sprint."

I liked that thought a lot. It's true that the holiest Catholics I know - people like my friends Angela and Marilis who are nuns, many holy priests, and devout laypeople like my mom and dad - focus their efforts on praying and helping the people who are immediately around them. They practice a sort of "evangelical localism," focusing their love as Christians on the people who are most accessible in their daily lives. As for the big issues - abortion, war, poverty - they help when they have an opportunity and then offer the rest to God in prayer for Him to solve. Which, really, should be the first step with any problem.

Have you also found that converts seem to promote the faith much more publicly than cradle Catholics? Why do you think that might be?

Easter Sunday

It's been two weeks and I'm finally posting photos of Easter Sunday!

Frank and I couldn't have been more excited for Mass that day. At an RCIA dinner, Father Paul had told us that we could skip Mass on Easter Sunday since we would be attending Vigil Mass the night before. Frank looked at me with an incredulous face. 

"Is he kidding?" he whispered. "That'll be the first time I can go up to receive Communion with you. Of course we're going to Mass on Easter Sunday!"

We were a pair of happy campers.

I call this photo "Spot the Angela"

Iphoto editing is my new best friend, can you tell?

Here are my sister Lillian and her boyfriend Matt...

Could they be any cuter?

Everyone wanted to take pictures by the pretty trellis in front of the church.

My siblings couldn't get enough of Frank... always a good sign!

We even got a picture of Mum and Dad.

I goofed around a little under my favorite cherry blossom tree...

"Honey, are you SURE about this?"

*Gasp!*

My mom was rolling her eyes at us so hard for that last one.

Even though Easter was two weeks ago, we're still celebrating the joy of this glorious Easter season. As the Eastern churches say, "Christ is Risen! Alleluia!" "He is truly Risen! Alleluia!"

Happy Sunday!