When Your Cat Teaches You Theology

Darcy Snuggling the Works of Rumi

This is my cat, Darcy. I adopted him about three years ago from a cat sanctuary that, to be quite honest, smelled like pee. He was sitting with his back against the wall unconcerned with anyone. I, on the other hand, was being clawed on the leg by a collection of desperate cats while the attendant was trying to get me to adopt every ailing and dying cat in the joint.

“What’s the deal with him?” I asked the attendant.

“Him? Oh, I don’t think you want to adopt him. We’ve had him for almost a year and no one has wanted to adopt him. In fact, whenever prospective adoptees showed any interest in him, he used to showboat, but then they would change their mind. I think he’s lost any hope of being adopted,” she sighed.

“What made them change their minds?” I asked puzzled

“Well, he has a flaw on his eye. He’s an otherwise healthy cat, but he has a flaw,” she said in exasperation.

“I’ll take him!” I said eagerly.

A few hours later, my new friend was in my apartment rubbing his head against a copy of Pride and Prejudice ( thus his name) and I knew then, that my bookish friend and I would be close companions.

Today, I was having a rough day, so I came up to my cat on his perch and said, “Darcy, I feel sad.” He promptly stood up, meowed, and put his paw on my shoulder. I took comfort in his affection, but I am almost certain he was hoping for food. Caught up in my cat’s companionship, I found myself thinking about God.

It amazes me, looking at this creature that I find beautiful and good-natured, why anyone would deem him as unwanted merely because he is imperfect. For me, this furry companion has become deeply wanted.  This desire for perfection reveals quite a lot about our society. Commodification has permeated into every aspect of our being. The value we place on living creatures ( human, animal, vegetation) has been reduced to functionality and utility. A thing, animal, or human cannot exist, it seems, merely as is, for worth is measured in ability, revenue, and productivity.

God, however, does not see creation in this way. God does not love us for our abilities, net-worth, profit revenue, or level of productivity. Our humanity and dignity are rooted in our creatureliness.  Our creatureliness reminds us that we are connected to God through the whole of creation in its complexity and simplicity; danger and mystery. St. Augustine writes in Confessions ( and this is also found in the Catechism sect. 338), “nothing exists that does not owe its existence to God the Creator.” Words can not be written without a writer. A painting ceases to form without the careful brushstrokes of a painter.   A creature can not exist without a creator.

Our existence, therefore, reminds us that we have been created by a Creator whose love is not quantified, but incalculable, extending in immeasurable vastness.  We exist for we have been willed out of love- ex nihilio, ex amore ( out of nothing, out of love).  Coming into the fullness of our being, we become fully realized, outwardly revealing the glory God.

 I do not love my cat because he offers me anything. Yes, he offers me companionship, but monetarily speaking, he costs me hundreds of dollars annually and has broken his fair share of glassware. I love my cat because he is unique, special, and chosen. His worth is not measured in what he can do, but who he is.

God, in the same way, loves us not in our utility or function, but merely because we are unique, chosen, precious beings, fashioned by an exquisite Creator.

If we reduce the worth of living things, creatures, and beings to function, then how easy is it for us to justify actions that oppress or destroy? What is the purpose, then of art or music? Should we dismiss anything that does not serve to bring a means to an end? 

Our worth is not in what we can do, but who we are. 

Giving God What We Can

It’s almost Lent, so I’ve been stressing out about what should be my Lenten practice.

For years I would make an ambitious list of things I wanted to achieve during Lent and it felt more like spiritual Crossfit than a practice towards sanctification. The foundations of Lent ( fasting, abstinence, prayer, and alms-giving) should lead us towards a stronger and healthier spiritual practice and in turn, shape us into communing with God and humanity with boundless love and grace. Often we fall short in our Lenten practice because our innate humanness combined with our post-modern ideas about achievement, productivity, and success often lead us to treat Lent like something we must do or achieve rather than shape us into the fullness of our being.

Lent, from the word relent, is the process by which we let go, surrender, or give up our attachments to this world that keep us from cultivating spiritual growth.
What might that look like in practical terms? What if you feel like you have nothing left to give?

Trust me God doesn’t expect us to be great, perfect masters of Lenten practices. God simply wants us to give up practices that hinder growth or harms us and take up a practice that helps us flourish. If you feel like all you can give God is a little bit, that is enough. Think about the parable about the widow’s mite. The story, if you don’t remember, is about how the wealthy were exploiting the poor – specifically widows. Women in the ancient world (and this is still the case in some parts of the world) lacked agency of any sort. If a woman remained unmarried or widowed, they often lived in abject poverty. This is why Jesus, from the cross, tells John, “behold your mother” essentially saying, “I’m not going to be around forever, so care for her and all women (and the vulnerable) because they lack agency, so use your capacity to walk with them as I have walked with you.” Returning to the parable, what is essential to see here, as Jesus points out, is that the widow, exploited with no agency or financial independence, gave what she could and her sacrifice was profound because it came from her heart not out of pride or self-glorification.

For myself, I struggle with an anxiety disorder. Often I get overwhelmed by even the simplest pieces of ordinary life like cleaning my apartment. Sometimes my anxiety is so bad, I get panic attacks. Other times, I get so overwhelmed that I neglect myself. For the past year, my anxiety has been so bad it has even infiltrated my spiritual life. It has been hard for me to even get up and go to church.

So, when this pre-Lent/preparatory season approached, I started to feel incredibly overwhelmed because I did not have any big plan. Rather than fight my anxiety, I started to ease into it. I used my anxiety as my prayer. What came through in my prayers was that I really need to take care of myself. I was not loving myself the way God loves me. I was not nourishing my body, exercising, and keeping my apartment clean- these are things that help me manage my anxiety. I saw through this prayer that if I fail to care for myself (to the best of my ability), I am not fully loving myself. When we do not love ourselves, I believe God grieves. Like a parent, when their children hurt, God hurts when we can not see our beauty as beings in God’s image and likeness. How can we love God or others when we can not love ourselves?
If you find yourself like the widow and you are worried that your mite is not enough for God, then I leave you with this:
“Courage, dear heart.” – CS Lewis
and
“Do not let your heart be troubled” – Jesus, John 14:1a.

If your heart is tired, if your burden feels heavy, give it to God. If all you can offer God is a few small sacrifices or a few small practices, then that will be enough for God. God is not looking for great feats of human strength, God is looking at our heart. Whatever we relent or take up for Lent, may it be, ultimately for God’s greater glory with the fullness of our body, mind, and soul.

Remember two mites, given with profound love and sacrifice, can be worth more than a pile of gold to God and a simple meal of fish and bread can feed 5,000. God can do mighty things with simple sacrifice and small acts of great love.

Fashion and Faith

I adore clothes.

I have loved fashion my entire life even as a small child. I once got in trouble for cutting a hole in an afghan my mom spent hours crocheting because I wanted to, “design a poncho.” I had just watched a televised showing of fashion week. It was the late 80s, and “southwest” designs were the height of fashion. I saw a model strutting down the catwalk in a poncho, and so I grabbed my mom’s afghan cut a hole in the center and wore it like a poncho. She was furious. I’m pretty sure steam came out of her ears. And my love affair with clothes and fashion began.

Since then, I have poured over many pages of Vogue. I love reading about the Met Gala and seeing the level of artistry that comes from those on the red carpet and housed in the museum. My own closet is filled with (albeit preowned or vintage) high end and designer brands. In fact, one of my favorite hobbies is to thrift. I am continually scouring vintage and consignment shops to find hidden treasures. One time I found a vintage Diane Von Furstenberg dress for $20!

Clothing ( as well as makeup and hair color), to me, is freedom of outward expression. I look for pieces of clothing that are printed, structural, and unique. When I look my best, I feel like my best self. But there is one problem in all of it…
The fashion industry is hugely controversial. It’s often classist, contributes to gross consumerism and materialism, supports the use of fur, reinforces unrealistic beauty standards, and often involves unethical work practices. However, there are many designers out there seeking to change all of that. More and more brands support charitable giving. Others abandoned the use of fur and leather work in their designs. Fashion shows have become more intersectional, diverse, and inclusive regarding their models and the designs themselves.

Even with changes, fashion is laden with controversy. For instance, just last night legendary designer Karl Lagerfeld died. Lagerfeld was a giant of design. In fact, he was probably one of the most influential designers of our age- constantly transforming how we see and interpret the fine art of clothing. He was, on the other hand, known for his often absurd and downright cruel comments regarding the weight and beauty of women. Although I greatly admired his art, I did not herald him as one of my personal heroes and the more I read of him, the more disdain I have for his behavior and the more I wrestle with loving his work.

In one of my social justice classes, we were on break, and I mentioned his passing rather matter-of-factly. My classmates gave me a mix of responses from confused to outright offended looks. One asked, “who?”  and I merely explained who he was, that he worked for the house of Chanel, and noted that I like fashion as an art form. The room got very quiet.

The rest of the class I found my mind wandering a bit thinking about identity- specifically my own identity. I often feel out of place in my field of study. For instance, I remain one of the only individuals at IPS ( Loyola Chicago’s Institute of Pastoral Studies) who has an arts background. Most people have past careers related to political science, business, theology, or philosophy. While they were taking classes on global politics or multiculturalism, I was taking classes on the Renaissance, reading the plays of Eve Ensler, and writing papers on Hitchcock. My classes were varied but rooted in the arts.

My love of fashion does not seem to mesh well with my love of faith-centered social justice practices. Fashion is viewed as superfluous, vain, or shallow. It does not really seem to have a place in faith. Attention is supposed to be given to God not drawn to ourselves. We are also not supposed to be wrapped up in the ephemerality of this world. Then there’s me. I like to stand out from the crowd. It is not uncommon for me to have multi-toned, asymmetrical hair. I experiment with my clothes often wearing bold prints, embroidery, and embellishments. As I said, I love the freedom of outward expression.

After class, I walked to Trader Joe’s in the heart of Streeterville. On my short walk, I passed boutique hotels, high-class restaurants, and architectural landmarks like the Driehaus Museum. All of these places screamed of wealth, luxury, and pleasure. As I placed carefully picked items into my grocery basket, I thought about if my love of beautiful things had a place in ministry. Is it wrong for me to admire the work of controversial people and subsequently participate in their controversy?

The truth is, all of my studies involved praising the work of people who made good and bad choices. For instance, I took a class on Hitchcock who was known for sexually harassing female actresses like Tippi Hendren, but he was also a cinematic genius and revered as the “master of suspense.” His movies are still some of my favorites. I studied the work of Michelangelo, who was boorish, rude, and temperamental ( basically a nightmare to work with), but he created some of the most beautiful masterpieces known the world over. Now, I’m studying theology and social justice. Pope Francis, if you remember, called female theologians “the cherry on the cake” ( or something like that). And in terms of social justice, MLK had extramarital affairs, and Cesar Chavez made many problematic mistakes while organizing. People are inherently flawed and inherently sinful and both the bad and the good they participate in allows us to examine our own strengths and weaknesses.

I spent the entire ride home to my apartment wrestling with my love of fashion, design, and art as well as my love of work done by broken people and thought can I love all these things? The truth is I love jazz clubs, opulent architecture, cocktail dresses, reading Vogue, and sipping artfully poured (and often overpriced) Manhattans. I also love serving God through social advocacy, elevating the voices of the poor, and finding ways to bring more people around the table. One interest, just like one flaw, does not erase another. It is crucial when considering anything is there truth, beauty, and goodness within it?

For me, fashion does two things. It inspires me to be more creative, but it also causes me to pause- was there worker exploitation in the creation of this garment? Does this purchase contribute to consumerism? Is more bad upheld over the good? Essentially, everything thing we do from the purchases we make to the media we consume, to who we vote for should require us to pause. If we aren’t thinking critically, then what are we doing?

So, can a minister or justice advocate love fashion? Yes. Can a fashion designer love God? Yes. These things are not mutually exclusive. I would also add that fashion does have a place in faith for God is ultimately a creator and an artist and anything that we produce that is true, good, and beautiful is a reflection of God.

 

In theology, we often talk about approaching ideas with a both/and mentality. I think we can apply this mentality to our everyday life. We can love fashion and God. Live simply and sometimes indulge in luxury. Enjoy ice cream and still be a healthy eater. Life is about balance. In it all, it is essential to continually consider and reflect on what areas of our lives might be enshrined in controversy. What might cause us to be blind to the errs of human nature? Through every one of our passions and interests, we have an opportunity to live fully, to grow, and to cultivate change.

Waiting in Hope

We are in the fourth week of Advent already and inches away from Christmas. Advent is a time of waiting and anticipation, and often I find myself too exhausted to think about Christmas. This season is no different.

The physical depletion left me the moment finals week ended. Now, I have entered into the emotional exhaustion.

For months I have thought of themes I wanted to explore. Typically during Advent, there is time to reflect on Mary’s silent ‘yes’ or the depth of Joseph’s character. The events of this year paved the way to reflect on the ever-evolving “ecclesiology of Pope Francis” and his critical example for pastoral ministry.  There were opportunities to reflect on the Year of Mercy and how might we push forward with mercy beyond this year.  This year, to say the least provided a myriad of possibilities for critical reflection.

With as many opportunities I had to personally reflect, I found myself in mourning for the world.  My heart aches each time I read another headline. When I think of it, perhaps reading the headlines is an Advent prayer.

We sit in lonely exile waiting in expectancy for the Rod of Jesse to spring forth again and relieve from our self-destruction.  We shout from the depths, “Lord, hear our prayer.”

“Where is God?” We cry out in sorrow as children die in the streets of Aleppo.

“Where is God?” We ask when our water is poisoned in Flint and Standing Rock.

“Where is God?” We ponder as we bury our unarmed black sons from Chicago to Ferguson.

In a soft whisper, we hear God say, “Be still and know that I am God.”   If we turn to the cross, we can see a God who suffers with us, understands our pain, and mourns when we mourn.

O come, thou Dayspring, come and cheer
our spirits by thine advent here;
disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
and death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Advent reveals to us that in the darkest moments of our earthly existence, Christ, through the Paschal mystery, is the light shown for all.   We light the Advent wreath to remind us that the flickering of one small flame can pierce even the most impenetrable darkness.

As we sit in darkness waiting for Immanuel to come again, we can rest at the foot of the cross. There is at the foot of the cross, but there is faith, hope, and love residing there too.

Spiritual Lessons From a Roach

Earlier this year I was doing some work for school, and I noticed my cat playing with something on the floor. I smiled and thought, “how cute!” Then I saw what he was playing with, and a high pitch scream came shooting out of my mouth, and my furry friend ran inside his little cat house into hiding. To my horror, my cat had been playing with a big, black ROACH.  Horrified, I left the dead roach on my floor, grabbed the cat and my laptop, and ran into my office. ( As if that thing was going to come back from the dead and have a hostage takeover in my apartment). I messaged my brother and said,” my cat killed a roach, and it’s on my FLOOR in my apartment. What do I?” He replied, “Sammy ( he loves to call me that name), you live in the city! It’s dead. You will be okay.”

After a while, I gathered up enough courage to dispose of the unwelcome guest and cleaned my already clean apartment top to bottom. As I was cleaning, I kept thinking about how dirty and uncomfortable I felt by the sight of one bug. I felt dirty and exhausted, so I went to bed. The next day after work I headed out to buy sealable containers, baits for my cabinets, shelves- anything and everything to seal off and hide food and shoo away any future guests.

As I debugged my life, I discovered a few surprising things. First, because I have a cat, I became more aware of what items I keep in my house. I have absolutely no toxic cleaning chemicals and except the baits, I placed in my cabinets, I used no pesticides. Second, as roaches cling to things like cardboard and paper bags, I decided to reduce my Amazon orders and make a conscious choice to use reusable bags at the store. Third, as roaches also love clutter, I decided, I could simply learn to live with less. As I cleaned, I began to think of Pope Francis’ Laudato Si’ and how he writes that our throwaway culture contributes to our excess waste perpetuated by greed. This exploitation of our natural resources, as Francis explains, taints the core of society. As we share a common home, our actions impact each other. How we treat the environment correlates to how we treat each other.

As Pope Francis is a Jesuit, he is also familiar with St. Ignatius of Loyola’s spiritual writings. Ignatius writes of detachment.  This freedom of detachment is experiencing freedom from anything that hinders us from growing closer to God. The more we become detached from the things of this world, the freer we become. As free people, we become more open and receptive to things of the Spirit. We become joyful, open, loving individuals who respond to all circumstances with the understanding that God is at work in our lives in all circumstances. We begin to see “God in all things.”

In a strange way that roach was a blessing in disguise. It reminded me that I am not bound to this world, but I am responsible for caring for it.  In caring for the Earth, I should be mindful of how my purchases impact the environment as well the individual who made the good I use. I also had a reminder that  I could and should live with less.  As Ignatian Spirituality teaches us that  nothing is out of the realm of spirituality, each day presents us with an opportunity for spiritual growth-  yes  even  through roaches.

Discipleship in the Digital World

Our words matter.  Sometimes they last longer than we do.

Last week, I visited the Chicago History Museum’s exhibition entitled Lincoln’s Undying Words. As I entered the exhibition, I slowly read the name of the exhibition and the phrase “undying words” stuck with me the entire day.

Undying Words 

Undying Words 

Undying Words 

I uttered those two words to myself over, and over, and over as I viewed the pieces of the exhibition.

The exhibition explores how Lincoln’s views concerning slavery had changed during his presidency and emphasizes on the lasting impact of his most powerful speeches: the Gettysburg Address, his inaugural speeches, and the Emancipation Proclamation.  Even if we know nothing of slavery or abolition or even Lincoln, for that matter, we are probably familiar with his words.

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that “all men are created equal.” –  from the Gettsburg Address

“A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure, permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will cease to be divided.”- a passage from  Lincoln’s  second inaugural speech.

These words have weight, and often people quote people without even knowing who said it first, or the context in which is was spoken. Alas, this the strength of words both spoken and written. In Lincoln’s day, as we all know,  words were not so quickly passed as they are now. People had to listen to as they were being spoken in that moment and wait weeks, months, or years to read them in print.  Now, we have a multitude of platforms in which to express our every passing thought. What we send into the digital world can get passed on and passed on through every social media network out there. 

As both a writer and a person of faith, I am well aware that my what I express to the world bears great importance.  Every post I write reflects on me as an individual, the values I carry, and what I profess to believe. As I profess a belief in God and proclaim myself as a disciple of Christ and his teachings, then do the words I utter, scribble or type reflect the actions of Christ? I admit, sometimes I fail to express anything that reflects my discipleship.  It would suit me to spent some time in solitude before I sit before I press a single key.

In a world that limits you to 140 characters,  words must be carefully selected. One wrong Tweet, post,  or status update and your social media network will quickly disengage. When our society relies on #trendingtopics and immediately responses, how do we engage and connect on an intimate level? How do we effectively use social media to bridge the gap from the screen to the heart?  How can be digital disciples to the world in which its inhabits seem to have an attention span of a gnat?  Can our words be undying?  If they are, what message will they leave for the next generation?

What we say matters, so whatever platform or method we chose to communicate, we should remember to use them wisely.

“By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words will be condemned” -Jesus in Matthew 12:37,NABRE

We Are All Bad At Lent (And That’s Okay)

Yesterday was Palm Sunday and I found myself sitting in mass thinking, “how did that happen?” Followed by,” I’m not ready for Holy Week. I was barely ready for Lent.” As far as I’m concerned, we should still be in Advent. This liturgical year is zipping by and I feel like I’m barely holding on to my pants. Every year I set super ambitious goals for both Advent and Lent and once things get going, I feel like I haven’t done much of anything. I’ll be honest, Lent was a struggle. I did Fr. Michael Gaitley’s 33 Days to Morning Glory and if you are unfamiliar, you can go here.

I was feeling very discouraged by my own downfalls, but then I realized we all struggle with Lent.  It’s okay to think, “Wow, I’m really terrible at Lent.” The truth is, we are all kind of bad at Lent and, that’s the point. If we were perfect and amazing at Lent, then we would not need it, and we would not be in need of Jesus either. Lent reveals to us our fears, our failures, our weaknesses, and our struggles. The purpose of Lent is to strengthen us and reveal to us the area of our lives that need fixing. It is a painful process and is difficult to get through because, during this time of relenting (surrender, abstinence, fasting, and prayer), we become vulnerable. By the end, we might feel defeated as if we disappointed God, but we needn’t feel that way. God knows we are not perfect, and so he sends us the Holy Spirit to comfort us and lead us closer in communion withGod. 

Lent is a time in the desert. Even Jesus was tempted in the desert.  Dwell on that for a moment.

So, if Jesus required much prayer to endure his desert time, don’t you think we need it too? What makes us think we can endure this life alone and without prayer? Friends, do not take this spiritual journey lightly. When we recite the Creed during mass, we acknowledge  the existence of things” visible and invisible.” There is an entire spiritual world out there that we can not see. Therefore, it is necessary to, as Jesus said to disciples the night of his arrest, “to take watch and pray.” 

Our goal is Heaven. Every day is another chance at sainthood, but great saints are not born, they are made. Great saints did not become Saints by sitting on their hands. Every great Saint became a Saint by enduring sorrow, struggle, and weakness.  Pope Benedict XVI said, “the world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.” Carry your cross knowing that life will not be easy, especially when you strive for holiness, but know that you are not alone for Jesus carried that cross before you.

Rely on Jesus and He will sustain you.

The Sanctity of Motherhood

I got news last week that my newly wedded friend and her husband are expecting their first child in July of the new year. When I discovered the news, initially, I was surprised. My surprise confirmed the certainty that life does, in fact, move us forward.  I have had many friends over the years get married and have babies, but news from this one particular friend stirred a different emotional response.  Why this one friend above the rest? Because we knew each other when we were teenagers and when I saw the pregnancy announcement, it was as if the last remaining memories from girlhood and adolescence had diminished and suddenly, I was not only confronted with my friend’s motherhood but my own desire for marriage and motherhood. She will be a mother.

I began to think. When does this desire for family begin?

After pondering a bit, I concluded with a fundamental truth that has shaped my life. We want family ( people, community) around us because we were born with innate desire within us.  Anthropologists, socialists, and biologists would say this desire for family stems from a biological instinct of self-preservation. We procreate in order to pass on our genetic code to future generations resulting in the preservation of our species. Where does this biological instinct of self-preservation come from?

That desire has been coded in our DNA long before we came to be. We were built to love because we were made from love.  Without love and without the desire to love, we would cease to be.

As communal people, made from a communal God, we are all called to family life. In all vocations (marriage, religious life, single life, consecrated single life), we are all called to be family to others. Whether we are married to God and devoted to the church family or whether we are married to a man or woman and devoted to a flourishing, physical family, we are all called to serve one another in love as just as God has done for us.  As God loves us and made us for love, he has also put in our hearts the desire to love, nurture, and care for life here on Earth.

Last week, most of us around the world celebrated the Nativity of Jesus. Jesus chose to come down to us in the simplest form and through the most incredibly beautiful way.  Jesus entered the world the way we all do: through the female body- a body that nurtured, cared, and fed him. Jesus was born. He did not magically fall down from the sky. Just as we recite in the Creed, he was “begotten not made.” Through the power of the Holy Spirit, he was knitted in his mother’s womb. Mary obediently agreed to be the Mother of God and with her desire to please God, she brought forth Jesus.

Enter a caption

Brothers and sisters:
When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son,
born of a woman, born under the law,
to ransom those under the law,
so that we might receive adoption as sons.
As proof that you are sons,
God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts,
crying out, “Abba, Father!”
So you are no longer a slave but a son,
and if a son then also an heir, through God.

Galatians 4:4-7

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Mary. It is a day we honor her holy motherhood. Through Christ’s conception to birth, death, and resurrection, there Mary remained. She was blessed for generations not only because she said yes to the will of God, but she sat with Jesus through it all. When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple, Simeon, in the Gospel of Luke,  looked at the face of his newborn savior and proclaimed to Mary, “a sword  will pierce your soul too.”

La Pietà, Annibale Carracci, 1600

During mass this morning, the priest spoke in his homily of the beauty of God’s way. God loves us so much that he sent his son as one of us. What is so profoundly beautiful is that God chose a woman to bring Jesus forth.  God created women in such a unique way.  They (neuroscientists and psychologists) say that the neural anatomy of women and men are nearly biologically identical. We might possess similar biological features, but we were not designed exactly the same way.  For instance, women possess a significantly greater percentage of estrogen in their body than men. As women have uteruses, estrogen and progesterone are needed to regulate egg production in the ovaries.  As some research has indicated over the years, the increased production of these two hormones is believed to impact women’s hardwiring- making women more verbally expressive and connective. There are indeed variables and exceptions to all data.

Reflecting on the motherhood of Mary allows us to see God’s precise foresight. Because of God’s specific design, women have, for example, a heightened sense of danger with the size and shape their amygdala( in comparison to men’s) which allows women to respond instinctively to potential threats. God came into the world through the body of a woman because God understood that Jesus would enter into the world full of threats and needed a woman’s keen sense to identify danger. God also chose to come to us as a vulnerable infant to connect with us on a human level, but possibly to reveal to us the significance of being nurtured and loved in a unique way women can and do.* Mary’s unique mix of hormones allowed Jesus to be nurtured through her body in gestation and infancy. She fed, clothed, and held Jesus as a boy. She held Jesus in her arms in death and received him in the resurrection. Because of her pure and holy love of God, she has shown us how profoundly God loves us and how much we can love others. Through Mary, we can understand where this desire to love comes from and how to harness it to distribute to each other through connection, nourishment, and embrace.

*Men are nurturing and sensitive too. I am speaking about the physical act of bearing children and feeding them from their body. I am also referring to the hormones like oxytocin that are released during pregnancy, birth, and nursing that allow a woman to uniquely bond with her child.

A Time Before There is Winter

It’s the second week of advent and edging closer to winter. It’s been a beautiful autumn here in the Northeast, the one season that I have missed the most. Autumn is beautiful in San Francisco mostly because it is the only time in San Francisco when there is consistently warm weather and an abundance of sunshine. Autumn in San Francisco means great concerts, a fantastic outdoor music festival (Hardly Strictly Bluegrass) and plenty of opportunities to laze about on the beach. It’s a warm welcome after a dark, foggy, and chilly summer.

There is something magical that happens once the leaves begin to change. The apples become ripe for the picking and the squash is ready to be harvested. The temperatures begin to drop and there is a recognizable crispness in the air.

Of all the beautiful sights and smells of autumn, the changing of the leaves is my favorite part. Essentially, autumn’s falling leaves is death and hibernation. It is the end of blossoming buds in preparation for winter’s frost. Autumn kindly transitions our body and mind for winter. Imagine what a shock it would be to our system if we did not have autumn. We would be entering into below zero temperatures from 90 degree heat. We have the beauty of autumn to ease us into the harshness that comes from biting chill of winter. This transition from green blossoms to barrenness reminds us not all seasons last forever.

It is fitting that I entered into a transformation of my own during the autumn. I left San Francisco in a bit of hurry due to unexpected turn of events that unraveled rather haphazardly. I found myself leaving San Francisco the way I came, with just a few suitcases in hand. This transition was not an easy one for me. For starters, I was walking away from a parish community that I grew to love and friendships that were just beginning to blossom. I was also an adult moving back into my parents home and it reminded me that even though I left, the world kept spinning. My nephews and niece have grown up to become their own people and my parents are a bit older than they were before. Life kept moving forward without me.

One day this fall, I sat outside on the porch with my morning coffee and looked out at the trees behind my parents’ house. I said a silent prayer asking God what I was supposed to do while I waited for my new life. Then I remembered something Fr. Mike Schmitz* said on one of his videos  for Ascension Presents, ” What is the task you need to be doing today?” I sat for a moment and pondered what I might do for God today as opposed to just sitting outside waiting for winter. What can I do now? That day, all I did were simple tasks like making sure my Grandma didn’t get lost while taking a walk (she has dementia), taking the dog out, praying, looking up scholarships for graduate school, and helping my mom set up her wi-fi. Whatever task we have at this moment whether it be helping at home, studying, paying the bills, loving our spouse- that is what we are called to do.

Fr. Mike speaks in another video  about discernment. In this video he talks of the Annunciation of the Birth of Christ to Mary by the angel Gabriel in Luke One ( very seasonally appropriate) and how, once the angel revealed to Mary that she will become the Mother of God, she said, once she asked clarifying questions, “let it be unto me according to the scriptures” and then the angel was gone! See, Mary understood what God was calling her to do because being a Jewish girl, faithful to her God, she was familiar with the Old Testament prophecies of Isaiah that would predict the birth of Christ.

Fr. Mike explains that, like with Mary, God is with us. Our certainty is not that God will spell out every step of our lives at every moment. No, our certainty is that we can trust Him and know that He is with us. He gives us autumns in our lives, so that we may be prepared for winter.

While I pondered in silent prayer why God had me in this strange life transition, it was revealed to me that I may not be where I want to be, but I am exactly where I need to be. This autumnal time in life has been a period of prayer, contemplation, and preparation. As I will be studying theology in the Winter, these past few months have given me time to dive deeper into my faith now, so I will have a solid foundation for my studies later. This is how God works. Use this time in your life NOW to prepare yourself for what God wants you to do in the future.

* Fr. Mike Schmitz is the chaplain at Newman Catholic Campus Ministries at  UMD (University of Minnesota Duluth) and also serves Director of the Office of Youth Ministry for the Diocese of Duluth.  You can find some of his homilies at http://bulldogcatholic.org/homilies-archive/ and the videos he created for  Ascension Presents  can be found on the Ascension Presents station on You Tube. There’s a lot of great material on Ascension Presents and I encourage you all to check it out!

Day 31 With Iggy: A Feast Day and Everything In Between

Today is winding down on the West Coast. It’s the Feast Day of St. Ignatius of Loyola. If you’re new to the scene, I’ve been celebrating Ignatian Spirituality the entire month of July.

This is what happened during the last week of #31DaysWithIgnatius.

1.)  I’ve started watching Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown  a CNN series on Netflix.

2.) I created a Bay Area Bucket List of things to do, see, and eat.

3.) I downloaded the app Oyster and read the book The Rosie Project. I know have a new goal to read at least 400 pages each week.

4.) I visited the San Francisco Botantical Gardens with a friend and drank coffee while looking out at the gardens and the rolling hills before me.

5.) I had a piece published by my new friends at Loyola Press and Ignatian Spirituality through their #FindIggy Celebration entitled Surrender.

The past 9 days have been full.

What does this have to do with St. Ignatius?

A great deal, actually.

What I learned through my own Iggy Project was that encounters with God happen daily if we are open and receptive. As an ambitious writer who is hung up on rules and details, part of me feels like I failed at my own project because I didn’t write every day like I said I would. What I gained from channeling my inner Ignatius was a greater appreciation for what I have around me.

Coffee, sunsets, birds, beaches, palm trees, meals,  gardens, sunshine, friends to….

homeless people on the streets, my dingy apartment, my less than satisfactory job, fog, pain, panic attacks and

everything in between.

I have learned to embrace what is in my life from the simple pleasantries of life such as biting into an almond croissant to watching the sunset over Lone Mountain.  I have learned that God is with me during times when money is tight or when I’m experiencing a rush of anxiety. I can see God in the faces of those around me.  I can see God on the screen with one of my favorite celebrity chefs,  as he walks through war-torn places like Libya ,interviewing  people about the price of freedom whilst in local cafés.

As Ignatius has shown us, God is not limited to man kind’s simplistic notion of Him. The things around us are not God, but rather, a vehicle in which to guide us towards intimate  encounters with Him. By looking beyond ourselves, we can come into closer communication with Him. We can marvel at a sunset and think of God’s infinite plan for us. We can reach a moment of suffering and find Him suffering with us.  God is in all things.  He works through all things and through all circumstances.

Finding God in all things means finding gratitude daily. Having gratitude not only means being gracious, but it also means graciously accepting the circumstances of this life with an understanding that we don’t understand hardly anything at all.  We naturally seek to have control. Control provides us comfort. Anxiety comes when we feel like we are losing control.Surrender is the opposite of having control. When we surrender everything, we acknowledge that we do not have the capacity to know and understand everything in this life. When we surrender, we let go of everything. We acknowledge that we are merely a small part of a larger plan that we can not fully see or understand. Surrender allows us to say, “God, you made me. I trust you. Do with me as you will.” In doing this, we can accept that God works through all things. When we surrender, we can have gratitude. We can see the beauty of God’s grace and love even in the minutest of details. We can see the beauty of God’s love even in the grimmest of details. What I learned in this complex month full of emotions and observances is that God is ever-present. Life is full of daily reminders of His love for us. All we have to do is look around us.