And It's Been a While

There are times when absence seems to be the best option. It makes you rethink, revisit what you're doing. On this blog I have shared a lot of my spiritual journey. It's been real! However, I never wanted this to be a soul-venting site. I wanted to share my life. I wanted to give you pieces of me, my ups and downs, what makes me move and what stops me dead in my tracks. I feel as if I've robbed you of all that.

I've gone back to reread my posts. Those were trying times, when my faith is what kept me standing. I am truly grateful for that. While I was away, I did a lot of Jesus-searching, some days better than others. For a while there, I felt good about my life. I was becoming content with my ins and outs. There was a settling satisfaction within me that sighed a sigh of relief. I was able to look at myself in the mirror and smile. There I was, a good girl who loves her God and her family; who will continue to do good and to never trip up again. This was my mantra every morning I awoke, feeling so very proud of myself for having changed and not reverting back to the old sinful me.

But then it happened...

I began to spiral down the same paths. Same thoughts, same feelings. That dormant part of me whom I thought I had vanquished was just hiding, waiting for that precise moment of assurance and pride. I struck a blow to my "almost perfect" self, to that girl who was going down the right path but started to get boastful about it. Because I got too sure of myself I weakened and those parts of me that I thought I had control over emerged once again and I fell prey.

I messed up in real and hurtful ways.

Remember that famous scene in the movie 300, when the main guy (I never remember character names or lines, but I can allude to stuff...that means nothing, right?) kicks the enemy into what seemed like a never-ending pit shouting "THIS IS SPARTA?" Yup, that was me, being kicked into the pit, falling, falling, never to hit bottom.

And so in all this time of silence I've continued to live, but watching myself as if an audience member ad not part of the ensemble. I have to say that it's all quite chaotic and so may things have changed.

So lets start over, shall we?

Okay, here goes...

Hi! My name is Ivy. I am happily married to J. and have four beautiful kids. Zay who is my sixteen year old stepson, Liani, my ten year old daughter, Naya, my six year old little girl, and Lucas, who has just turned one. I am a Catholic who struggles so much to strengthen my faith everyday. I love the church and have grown to understand it more and more. My mom is alive and well, thanks be to God. My father deceased now for many years. He succumbed to HIV when I was eight years old. I have a half sister named Lee and I have wonderful friends whom I consider family. My husband is my love and my best friend and God knows that I don't deserve such a loving and forgiving man but he is my strength and my fortress. The Lord know I need him.

I'm not one of those woman who say I don't need a man, but I believe that doesn't make me an anti-feminist. As a matter of fact, I believe that a true feminist is the woman who recognizes the true gifts that God has given her as a woman and the talents her femininity brings to any relationship. I believe that those feminine qualities I have compliment those qualities that J. has and therefore we fit like two puzzle pieces.

Love is Painful

Love is painful.

I don't want to paint a pretty picture of love every time, don't want to romanticize it,  because the truth is that love, true love, hurts.

Love cannot be contained. It travels in me, claims me, has made me and keeps remaking me. Love is meant to give out, never to hold, only to disperse in striking amounts so that we can receive True Love. And its exit is painful.

I can't romanticize love. At times it can be reflected this way and that, but to say that love shouldn't hurt is to say that I've not loved enough. I've not loved big enough, high enough. To say that love is not painful is to assume that I am not weak, that my very flesh is invincible, immortal, perfect. To say that painful love is not love is to say that I have not given myself at all and am not willing to.

That is not love to me.

To say so would negate an act of love that poured Itself out on the very ground, opened Itself with each scourging blow, with each buffet and insult, those very wounds becoming faucets of mercy and love. To say love doesn't hurt says I can't perceive the pain of lonliness up high on a cross, the abandonment of friends, the alienation of this world upon the shoulders of this God-Man, my King subjected to be nailed to a tree aside two common thieves. To say I negate the pain in this act of love is to deny myself of the very Love being given from it.

True Love is riddled with self sacrifice and this world today is a clear sign of how painful that love can be, so much so that people have created a "pain-free" world in order not to feel the emptying of what true love really is. My heart sees a world of hearts not willing to give of themselves, holding on to the most valuable talent He gave us, dooming us to hold on selfishly to what isn't ours to begin with, what He commanded be shared.

The only reason love exists is because He is Love. In creating me, Love is branded throughout my very being. And this abundant Love is meant to be distributed, to the very last tearful drop.

Because a vat filled with wine cannot receive new, fresh wine. Its emptiness is required.

This vat, made of flesh and bone, feels the emptying of self, in love, to receive a Love far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my very own power to love. I can never receive That Love if I don't release the limited love I contain within.

And once I do let go and let Love, it is only then that I feel immense joy. Love leads to joy. To love, give it, wear it vulnerable and raw, is the only way to receive joy, not the fleeting kind, the everlasting kind. Eternal Joy.

Love to me is....

When I look at her, at her innocent beauty, her purity, my heart empties out, painfully ebbing out through the thinnest of tears. I lose myself, only to fill up with her. Her little fingers letting go of her love to wipe those tears. The exchange begins with pain and ends in joy.

I think of him and once again, the passion of detachment, my very soul, whose fibers have entwined with his, start to pull at mine, even with bodies close, whispers heard loud, emptying myself in helpless love. The exchange begins with pain and ends in joy.

But most of all, love is when I look upon my Savior, in whatever form He chooses to reveal Himself to me, His eyes turned to me, His wounded Heart beating for me, each pain-filled thump creating a whisper of the words, I Love You. This exchange begins with His pain and ends in my joy. In this moment I realize what Love is, I let go of me, bearing that pain, my heart being able to truly beat back...

I love You too.

God bless!

Curveballs of the Past

We all go through lifestyle changes. We all make decisions in our lives that perhaps we would've never thought of making, say five, ten years ago, but have decided to make them now for our betterment. We change for the better and it is a part of growth.

And when we make those drastic changes we feel good, our bodies feel good. We trust we have chosen correctly for ourselves. We are content, so much so, we begin to tell our friends and loved ones about our change and how they too can achieve this new lifestyle. We are different and we vow not to go back to our old selves. We are committed to our new selves.

But then something happens... someone decides to throw us a curveball, and not just any old curveball. We get thrown at us a curveball of our past; a pitch that comes out of nowhere and twists and turns to show us who we used to be, the things we used to do. Most times we don't see it coming until it's almost too late. We have seen what it brings; a reminder of where we were, of how we use to be, and we get distracted.

I'll use myself as an example.

I used to be a smoker. I wasn't a chain smoker, but there were times in my life where I smoked so much I landed in the hospital. I knew the damage it was doing to me. My lungs burned, my asthma worsened, my skin took on an unhealthy hue, my breath, clothes, and fingertips stunk. I knew it was a bad habit, but knowing the damage I was doing didn't stop me. I kept on smoking and making excuses like, "I'm stressed and smoking calms me, " or "I only smoke when I drink." It was bad for me, hurtful to my body, and to be honest with you, I really didn't know how or even wanted to stop.

When I met J, I hid my smoking from him. From what I gathered as I was getting to know him, he didn't like girls who smoked. I liked him enough to keep it from him, but not enough to quit. By the time he realized I was a smoker I was in love with him. He asked me to stop and I did. Just like that. I didn't stop because of the health issues, of the smell, the financial burden even. I stopped because someone I loved and someone who loved me asked me to and I didn't want to be separated from him. So I gave up smoking so that I can be happy with him instead. That was more than ten years ago and I slowly gave it up. Every now and then I'd find a cigarette back in my hands but I knew I had changed. I no longer felt I had the option to go backwards and lose what I gained when I let go of the smoking habit. It wasn't until later that I saw the benefits of quitting to my body, my wallet, but I can honestly say that if it wasn't for J telling me to quit, I probably would have kept on smoking. Perhaps quitting for J wasn't the best reason in many people's eyes, but it led me to change my lifestyle. Now when I see people I love smoking I ask them to quit, hoping to have a similar effect on them as J had on me. But, in doing so, sometimes, I get the curveball of my past smoking lifestyle. When I see it coming it reminds me of the damage done.

Jesus Christ has had the same effect on me. Smoking is bad but perhaps not my worst of sins and my past is riddled with them. My lifestyle before Christ was so very different. I was not thinking about the damage I was doing to my soul. My former ways weren't just breaking God's heart, but my very own. Unfortunately, that didn't make me stop. I didn't know Jesus loved me. I didn't know Jesus, I mean, really know Him, and so I didn't love Him either. But the minute I bumped into Jesus on my life's road, He immediately showed me His wounds, His scars. He showed me His love. I was hurting myself and in turn hurting Him. He asked me to stop. I promised I would try.

And I decided to change my lifestyle for Him. I love Jesus. I don't want to be separated from Him. If I go back to my former ways, if I stick to them and decide to dismiss my changes, I will be unhappy, I will feel empty, defeated, ashamed. Jesus will always love me, but if I go back, I'm choosing to walk away from Him. And I love Jesus. So I'm doing my best to change my lifestyle. I'm still making progress but I have definitely changed for my better.

But, of course, every now and then, I get thrown that curveball. It comes down the plate, tricking me into believing that my past is gonna strike me out. All I've worked so much for to get here won't mean a thing because this curveball of the past is about to try and transport me back to the old ways. It has the power to make me believe that I have never changed.

I get very distracted.

Those old buddies of mine, Shame and Regret come along for the ride. There were days when they would grab me, but not without a struggle. Nowadays, I let them take me sometimes. See, I do have regrets, and there are times when I do feel shame. I used to fight these feelings. I used to say I have no regrets, I'm not ashamed of my past. But I am, and it's a good thing. Shame and Regret serve a purpose in my life now. They are reminders of where I don't want to be again. If these two didn't come around, if I walked through life still stating my lack of shame and regret, I guarantee you that I will repeat my past doings. If I don't feel shame and regret I give myself license to not be held accountable for my sins, past, present and future, and I will keep on hurting the person I love most, Jesus, and, in turn hurting myself.

Shame and Regret somehow keep me focused on where I am going and how far I've come.

When someone decides to throw you a curveball of the past, try and knock you out of play and tell you that you are still the same old person, let it past you. It is impossible for us to travel back in time. The past is the past but you can glance back when you want and remind yourself of where you've been. A couple of curveballs may have to pass you by to recognize what they really are and what purpose they serve. Some may even strike you out, but the game isn't over. Study them, look at them, feel the speed as they whizz by. Once you begin to realize that the past is a tool now, not to bring you back, or to knock you down, but to remind you of how far you have come, meet that pitch, make contact with your bat and knock that curveball of the past out of the park. You will see it again, but chances are you will know how to use it for good next time around.

Today I choose Jesus. Tomorrow I pray I keep choosing Jesus. He knows my past. He loves me enough to ask me to change, to not be afraid, to trust in Him. He's my coach, waving me home, telling me I can do it. I may trip and I may fall, but His encouragement keeps me rounding the bases and all I want is to get home to heaven and score one for the winning team. Keep those curveballs coming!

God bless!

The Perfect Person I Am Not

Dear Liani,

First off, let me start by saying that I love you immensely, and it is because of this love that I write this to you.

I feel that my responsibility as a mom is to be as loving and honest as possible. Sometimes parents find reasons to tell untruths to keep our children happy, to prevent from hurting them in any way, but it is done out of love.

I want you to know something about me. I am not perfect. Although I am constantly telling you how to be a better person, showing you how to be what I consider happy and normal, I myself need a lot of help and lecturing. Yes, as an adult, I too don't have it together.

As you know I am very messy. It is why I get so upset at your messiness. I don't want you to inherit that from me. I wish I was neater, but, I'm not, yet I expect you to be. Not good.

I also sometimes make promises that I know I won't be able to keep. I wish I had a better handle on time management, on my responsibilities, but I don't and yet I expect you to get your act together when it comes to school and homework. Not good.

Mommy is lazy. Sometimes I have a spurt of energy and desire to get things done, most times I'm lethargic. I get upset when you try and take the easy way out, yet I watch myself do the very same thing.  Not good.

There are things that mommy does that perhaps you are still too young to even think of doing. I gossip, which is awful because I hurt people that I say I love and care for with words that way. I am full of pride and I love getting the glory, knowing, thinking I am or should be the star. I have a temper that isn't set off by much. I am not very thankful sometimes. Many times I say things that are wrong, not nice, judgemental. There are times where I think of something bad happening to someone just because they hurt me. I have so many faults, so many sins. Mommy is not a perfect person.

I'm just a weak sinner who needs Jesus. This is why I go to church, why I pray to Mary, why I read about the Saints. I need Jesus to help me get better. And every time I get a little better, I turn to Him with a thankful heart. You know, Jesus said that He came for the sick, for the poor in spirit. He came to lift us up, to take us out of our slavery to sin. He came to heal my heart and increase my faith. He forgives me because He loves me and knows that I will probably sin again. But when I go back to Him, head and heart hung low, He forgives me again. I go to Mary because I want to be like her. She loved Jesus best. I go to her so she can help me, show me how, because moms know how to show their kids to be better. And the Saints are people like you and me, struggling to do better, many times falling, but getting up to try and love Jesus and our neighbor better with each rising. It's not about their faults, but about how they know Jesus loves them in spite of their shortcomings, and their persistence in always doing better next time. They weren't perfect either, like most people think. On the contrary, we can relate to their imperfections and ask them to pray for us to improve.

I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I mess up a lot and not just with you but with lots of people. Each day I pray that I do better as a mom and as a person. I want you to know that you don't need to be perfect. But always strive to be better, more loving to God and His people. (Everyone is a son and daughter of God, whether they acknowledge that or not, whatever their sins are. We are called to love, forgive and not seek revenge. ) And always lean on Christ for help with everything. Because sometimes we think we know and we don't know a thing. But He knows everything and He loves us anyway.

Love you to pieces my baby girl,
Your Mommy

God bless!

Finding Strength in Him

Seek the LORD and his strength;  seek his presence continually
— 1 Chronicles 16:11

This weekend, while on retreat, I'd walk down the hall from my room to be with Jesus in the tabernacle of the chapel. We spoke like I'd speak to my friends. I smiled and looked at the tabernacle when I saw something cute or funny as if, like an old friend, I knew He'd be giggling too. I spoke with Him about my worries, my insecurities, my fears. I thanked Him for all His blessings, for the opportunity to be with Him in this way. Many times, I just sat in silence, we sat in silence, Him and I, just being with each other, just hanging out. I felt myself growing closer to the Lord.

Friday night, after dinner and the talks, I changed into my pajamas and walked to the chapel to say hello. I walked the stations briefly. Then, as I sat down, there was a rosary in the pew. I could feel Him winking, egging me on. I'll do just one decade, I thought to myself, exhausted from the trip.

Ended up doing the whole rosary. It felt nice.

On Saturday morning I walked into the chapel and He was with a priest, who happened to be celebrating a solo mass. I figured I'd stick around. Any friend of Jesus is a friend of mine. We both received Him together. Very nice.


Later, in the retreat house library,  I had picked up an old book called "Teach Us to Pray." I turned to page 18. This is what it said:

"Our words hide things, instead of reveal them."

It went on to describe how full of wonder we are when we see an unknown flower, bird or insect. We stare and marvel at our ignorance of it, how we long to soak it in, get to know it. That continues until we are told or reminded of its name. Once we know it, we stop getting to know it. We don't know it anymore. This moved me. I can ramble on and on, then complain why I never hear Jesus talk back. I can repeat prayers and yet feel a dryness when I am done and get up to go. I've given Him little chance lately to communicate back to me. How can I get to know a friend if I don't let Him share something with me? How can I grow closer to someone I truly don't really know.

I felt small. I felt embarrassed.

So I walked back to the chapel and sat in silence with Jesus, because as much as I'd like to say I know Him, fact is I don't even know the half of it. What I don't know, what I don't understand of Him, is vast.


I came back various time that day. We spent time together. No one else walked into the chapel during these times. It was as if Jesus alerted everyone that He didn't want the chapel to be disturbed, since His good friend, Ivy, had come into town.

Sunday was my last day. I spent the morning with Him in silence. We'd grown closer in these last few visits, but I knew that once I stepped out into the outside world, my time would be monopolized. This saddened me greatly. I went through the morning feeling very disconnected. When it was time to go, I dragged my luggage out of my room and left it right by the chapel door.

I walked in, blessed myself, but instead of sitting down in one of the pews, I sat on the step leading to the sanctuary. I cried.

I told him,

Jesus, we had such a great time this weekend. We had alone moments I would've never dreamed of having back home. That's where I'm going now, back home, back to the normal. Funny thing is that You are my reality and I know where to find you. But I know it won't be like this for a while. Please keep me close to you. Call my name so I don't just wave and pass by. I want to sit with You, be with You, talk, or not. Just be with YOU.

I remained quiet for a while, hoping that He would reveal something to me.

And He did.

In His gentle manner, He told me something sad. I prefer not to share it. Let's call it a secret. But I'll share His advice. 

He reminded me that I was now in a sort of tabernacle, this retreat, joined with Christ in a most special way. When I leave, I'll be joined to Him in a different way. My eyes were moved to my Friend on the cross. This world is a cross. He invited me to get up on a cross, to suffer this world.

"But when you're tired," He said, "when you have no more strength, get off and come meet Me here, at the tabernacle. I'll help you get right back on the cross."

I left with a mix of emotions. How could one not be filled with all kinds of feelings when one encounters the Lord. There's no describing all those things I felt. One thing I can say for certain, is that I was a little more prepared for the outside. And each time I visit my Brother, my Friend, Jesus, He will keep filling me with strength and courage, perseverance and most certainly, love. 

For how could anyone face the world, our crosses without a heart full of love for Jesus and His people.

Visit Jesus in the tabernacle.
Go be with Him at a Holy Hour.
When you get there, sit, and be silent,
...and never stop visiting Him.

His doors are always open.

God Bless!

Lent 2013: Ashes, ashes and dirt and dust

I need saving.
Sometimes it's good to say things more than once, so...

I, Ivy, need saving.
Everyday, I need to be saved.

Because if I didn't believe that, feel that, know it, then I wouldn't need a savior, want one.
And I want Jesus.
I do.

My soul needs dusting sometimes. Other times it needs a major clean-up. I don't mean to be so messy, but life just trods through with muddy boots and though I attempt to clean the mess, the footprints stay embedded, reminding me constantly of those dirty moments, those muddy walks I took. My mess, my past is overwhelming. There's no way I can clean up a mess like that. I was never made for these circumstances.

And you should see me when I'm in a mess. I'm not happy. I'm pacing back and forth. I'm looking for ways to make this easy. I'm planning out my escape from facing it. My mess gets messier by the minute. I find the only way to clean up this kind of mess is by walking into a confessional.

Letting God in to clean up.
He loves to dust me off, wipe the stains clean, sweep away any worries. I am brand new. Cleansed.

Think what you want. This is my way of healing and has been for the rest of my family for over two thousand years. It's the only way that healed. This life, I thought was mine to control. My destiny, my dreams. Somewhat true. But they are nothing but dust and dirt if I don't recognize that without God those wishes will have no weight. So sad, as Jesus puts it, to gain the whole world and lose your soul. For when I die, I can't take my worldly dreams with me.

And because I love love love God, nor do I want to.


So this beginning of Lent, as the ashes are placed on my forehead  as I am reminded that from dust I was created and to dust I shall go, I will remember who lifted me up from dirt...

and He who will lift up this soul when this life is done.

God bless!

A Habit of Love: Whom do you wear?

Matthew 16:13-20

I love to dress up.

I don't have a particular designer that I'm devoted to but if I find an article of clothing that I love I must have it. No matter the price. I have a certain style and my clothes display my personality even my mood that particular day. Some say the clothes make the man (in my case, woman). I guess my clothes say I am a relaxed person, sometimes a bit adventurous, other times calm and straightforward. Somedays my clothes say, "Hey, look at me," and other days my clothes say, "Too tired to look at myself." What you wear can sometimes indicate what type of person you are on any given day.

In today's gospel, Jesus askes His apostles,

"Who do you say that I am?"

This evening, I spent time with two Sisters of the Servants of the Lord and Virgin Matará. Their mission is to bring Christ to everyone, through everything. Even a simple appearance at a baseball game should bring evangelization because their mere presence should remind us all of the presence of Christ in our midst. For the women and men who've been called to cloth themselves for the Lord, it is very easy for all to see that they have a special relationship with God. But what is my habit? How do people know whether I have a special relationship with God?

St. Paul famously answers that when he suggest we put on love.

Wear Love in and out, making sure others see Love, not me. Love using me to spread, to nurture, to feed and cloth, to hug and speak kind words, to pray and pray for, to wipe away tears and dance for joy, to receive and be received, to forgive effortlessly and embrace with unending mercy.

Dress myself in His love, Who is Love. Nothing forceful, nothing glitzy. Simple yet glorious Love.

I guess we can all ask ourselves the following; if people encounter me, will my actions tell them who Jesus is? Can they see His light, or have I lost some credibility through how I behave or what I fail to do? Who do I say Jesus is? How do I say it? How do I demonstrate to others that Jesus is my Lord and Savior and the only begotten Son of God?

What is your habit? Does it say who Jesus is to you? Can others see your relationship with Him without a word exchanged? Who we say Jesus is, and how we say it, is important. He gave us the task of spreading His story, His love so that the world can come to know Him. He needs us to put on Love.

We just need people to see Jesus in us. He takes care of the rest.


God, You know how imperfect I am. My heart has good intentions, but my actions, sadly, fall short. I want to glorify myself when I should be looking for ways to glorify You. I want others to see me, when I should show them You through my actions and words. I wish for the courage to hand my life over to You, yet I find it so hard to let go of all the things I easily denounce by words but not by moves. I lack trust, sometimes even interest. I fail at my attempts to do for You by doing very little or nothing at all. Help me to show You to the world in everything I do, whether it's helping someone in a time of need, being there for my family and friends, teaching others about You, even through a simple smile or hello or the way I carry myself and, yes, even in how I dress. In my weakness and shortcomings, I ask that You supply what I lack, increase my love and faith in You, enhancing my relationship with You when I am alone as well as in the presence of Your people. I am thankful for Your love and kindness and am aware that all that I do can never amount to all that You've done and continue to do. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.

God bless!

Lenten Walk 2012: Day 1 — Choosing Silence

Today marks the beginning of Lent. Ash Wednesday; where Catholics all over the world bear the mark in ash of the sign most precious to our our salvation, the cross.

I was battling a bit with my sacrifice, trying to decide what I'd give up for lent. About a few months ago I wished that I could take a silent retreat; just remain quiet, not say a word. I wanted to take advantage of my silence to become more observant, to remain silent so I can hear God. But it's hard to stay quiet as a mom of two. I find it hard to communicate with others without saying a word. I wished to become silent, but I retracted out of fear.

So my dear Lord, the founder of the true wish foundation, granted me my wish.

I got strep throat; and so my voice is gone. It hurts to even whisper.

So there you have it, my Lenten sacrifice for 2012. Minimal talking. I say minimal because there will be times where I will need to talk, but I'm hoping that in being silent I can listen more, learn more.

God gave us two ears and one mouth.

That must mean something right?

God's Love is More than Enough

Ever watch that show Hoarders? The people on this show are trapped in their own homes because it's full of stuff they can't get rid of. Some collect things to fill a void, letting it get too far. Some realizing that the objects they've gathered have brought nothing but sadness instead of reprieve from their pain. Others remain in denial. Either way, it's sad to see them struggle to change, realizing that all they've amassed, all they have around them, doesn't allow them to live freely.

Although some of us are not that extreme, many of us, including myself, can agree that we do store a lot of junk. Clothes that no longer fit, toys no one ever plays with, books already read, etc. Our lives can get pretty crowded, with objects that have sentimental value or things we just don't have it in our hearts to throw away. I can admit great joy in buying a new electronic or brand new shoes. For a moment I am content that I have something new, I feel blessed. God is good, especially when I can get a new car.

But is God also good if, say, my car gets stolen, or I am in a terrible accident while driving it?

The answer is yes.

It is true that God continually blesses us and wants us to be happy and safe, but our happiness, our worth, shouldn't come from the things we have or don't have. Our worth comes from within, from what's in our hearts and what comes out of our hearts. The things we say along with the things we do, are what really make us who we are. If we have nothing in this world but our breath, God is still very good because it is what's inside that counts for Him.

I had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman who travels a lot to South America and spends time in a hospital for sick children. Most of these kids have been abandoned by their families because they were ill and either couldn't afford to pay medical bills or, sadly a reality, think that their child's sickness is a curse and so they leave them at the hospital never to return. This particular hospital takes them in to care for them, basically giving most of them a home. There was one little girl with stomach cancer that this gentleman friend of mine grew very fond of. Every morning, to wake up, to sit up, to eat, and get dress was a trial for her, and yet, when she finally managed to rise and continue her day, she always wore a smile, was always ready to play and enjoy her day. This gentleman said he'd never met such a brighter soul, despite all that she lacked in the world, possessions, a home, her health, even her family, but she always had a reason to smile.

What a great testimony to God's glory, coming through in such a dire situation. To have very little, and still find a reason to smile. The Old Testament tells of a similar story, Job, the man who had everything but all was taken away. Job had to learn that God's love isn't equated to the amount of what we have around us. God's love comes in abundance and is the only possession we can boast about. Everyone has an equal amount of His tender love and mercy because no matter what He's chosen to give us, no matter who has more than who, He can't help but love us all the same.

Let's all give thanks to God for all we have and for all we don't have; for who we are, and for who we aren't. Tomorrow may bring on many different adventures, but God's love for you will always remain the same. Let's give Him, and in turn, our neighbor, all the love we have in our hearts. Let's show the world what really matters to us and to Him; how much love we have for God and for one another.

God bless!

Talitha Koum!

Mk 5:21-43


And as I wipe my tears over this sweet realization that Jesus also speaks to me in today's gospel, my two year old daughter is beneath my desk, putting on my slippers, saying,"Here we go mommy. That should do it."

Jesus and Naya, both revealing God's love for me. Both telling me, "Talitha koum," little girl, arise.

I have to say that I relate tremendously to today's gospel; a woman bleeding internally for years, a child gone too soon, dead to the world. But Jesus does what He does so well, rising the dead, healing internal wounds, stopping the bleeding. And as He healed both woman and child so many centuries ago, He heals this woman-child here today. Everyday.

So by faith alone can we see His miraculous hand at work.

This brings so many things together. In reflecting on the anti-religion, anti-catholic movements, videos, Facebook posts, etc, I now realize that in choosing to believe, in having faith, I can remain still. I can trust this but small wind passing through in comparison to the heaven that awaits me. Standing still, so that God can continue to inject faith in my spine. Standing still, like that tree, swaying, but never falling. Relying soley in this faith.

I've had a strong desire to fight it all, to speak my mind, to yell my objections about these issues. Yet God continues to speak softly to me, saying, “Give what is Caesar's to Caesar and what is God's to God.” And I do my best dear Father, hoping to be better each step of the way.

Jesus knows me. He knows I'm not confrontational. A general knows his soldiers, what they excel best at. My King knows what I do best. His command, "Talitha koum," is my order. Rise, and face these storms. Stand strong in this faith Our Lord has given me. Use it to ground me, to keep me facing Him. Always facing Him.


I don't know the future here on earth. Technically, I don't know the present either. So many secrets, decisions, conversations done behind closed doors. My view, my knowledge, it's so very limited, this I know. So does He. I can say this, I love God so much, I am grateful to have the opportunity to receive Him, His body and blood at every Mass. I am thankful that when I confess, Jesus speaks to me through my priest to tell me He forgives me. I hear that statement with my limited ears, my small heart and I am humbled by His merciful love. How wonderful to profess my faith in His presence, through my marriage, through my children, all gifts to me from God.


My faith is also a gift from God. I use it to tell everyone who reads, that everything I am, everything I have, everything I see, all that I know, is from God. And because I know that God is always working for the greater good, I realize I may not see the glorious finale, but I see hints of glory every moment He allows me to. What He makes is always good.


Life is precious because He made us. The church is precious becasue He created it. Our faith is so precious because He gave it to us. These are my traditions as a Catholic, and as a child of God. All of us are important to Him, even the ones, big and small, that we don't see, those we don't know, or will ever get to know. His gifts are not a disease. To say so would make us all worthless, and in that thousand-plus page love letter, the Word of God, He says otherwise. He says otherwise!


This is my defense, and mine alone. Others are commanded to the front lines, others to stay behind to protect the home front, but no matter what your order from God, do it with faith, the greatest weapon we carry in our entire arsenal.


I defend the Catholic Church with all my faith as I say:

I believe in one God,
the Father almighty,
maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.


I belive in one Lord Jesus Christ,
the Only Begotten Son of God,
born of the Father before all ages.
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
consubstantial with the Father;
through Him all things were made.
For us men and for our salvation
He came down from heaven,
and by the Holy Spirit
was incarnate of the Virgin Mary,
and became man.
For our sake He was crucified under Pontius Pilate
He suffered death and was buried
and rose again on the third day
in accordance with the Scriptures.
He ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory
to judge the living and the dead
and His kingdom will have no end.


I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son,
who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified,
who has spoken through the prophets.


I believe in one, holy, Catholic and apostolic church.
I confess one baptism for the forgiveness of sins
and I look forward to the resurrection of the dead
and the life of the world to come.


Amen.

God bless!

The Will to Trust: A Small Anecdote from 2011

Written on August  27, 2011:

Dear God,

Where do I begin?

Hurricane Irene is on its way to NYC...

and so is my husband...

and I'm hoping, praying, that along that route to the city You keep him in safety...

and bring him back home to me...

if it be Your will.

sigh...

I have to trust You right? I have to hunker down like one would during a storm and rely on You as one relies on the ground beneath their feet or their arms encircling their body. But today I have been creating hurricanes in my soul. I'm soaked from all the crying, seething and angry moments, doubled-over in pain moments and all these weather systems in my little heart making huge changes in this landscape. Weathering, erosion, low tide, high tide. All for something new. Right? Clear blue skies where the rays of sun remind us of signals from heaven and that it must be from God moment on our lips. I have to trust in You.

Wonder and Awe.
Fear of the Lord.

And as we drove to mass last Sunday, through a starless night, as I passed the bend I see God's work, the moon set high like an orange orb, huge, alarming, fascinating. I was scared of the moon, scared of things I didn't even know of, elements that so ever changing, so big next to my small self and yet, I couldn't take my eyes of the moon.

I truly thought that the end of earth was near.

And I said out loud, "What better place to be, then in Your house oh Lord."

I know...silly. I was scared of a big ole, floating satellite.
Fortunately, that's not my point.

I'm learning to trust You. I'm learning to trust in the God, in the One who wore human flesh, who, although scared, trusted His Father, suffered and died for me. I trust that even with nothing but my own soul hanging by a thread that I have a place, that I have been saved, that nothing else matters but His Face, His Name, His Love.

And when you love, when your heart is loving, when your soul knows love, all fear subsides. All fear, like demons run away from that Voice.

His authority.

How can I not trust a God who trusted in everything He knew was right, in a God, who continually puts His trust in me to do what I know to be right in my heart, even if I wasn't taught that way.

To trust God is to know Him, to know what He's done, what He continues to do. To trust God is to love Him with all your soul and all your might.

God bless!

In the Dark, When I Cannot See

A note to satan in prose:

I wake up each night to your loud knocking on my door.
desperate knocks,
open up, please let me in!
I wake up each night, afraid.

It is dark and I cannot see,

my curiosity almost getting the best of me,
as each knock, each plea, becomes louder and louder.

Every night is a struggle with you;

you know it is dark and I cannot see

you remind me of my hurt, my pain,
all those wounding moments.
What a tricky thing to do
to use my own fists to strike me
to use my own mind to fool me
my very own weaknesses to crush me.

you knows it is dark and I cannot see

Long ago, I feared
already lost
and so scared to lose myself even more.
and when you're lost you fear it all
scared that even love will eventually betray.
So in the night it is very easy to fear
not even hope gives much light.

But I laid there and waited in that dark that won't let you see

And in this gloom
where others moaned and cried out
where many souls were left, dying
walked a Man who's light can be seen for miles
it was enticing
my eyes were not used to it
squinting, each blink seeping in lights of hope.

Jesus knew it was dark and I could not see

It's hard to ignore
this quiet light.
It's hard to look away from it
it blinds you
and as I reached for something to grasp
instead I felt a hand
and It's power just lifted me up.

In the dark only He can see

Jesus sees for me
He hopes for me
and this hope that I'd see Him
even in that fearful dark
was that light that led me away from you.

you think because it is dark that I cannot see

you are right
in the dark I cannot see
my eyes, on them I can no longer rely
but my heart
it sensed He was near
it heard His very whisper
and my eyes have been closed ever since.

Who needs to see with His light within?

I trust this new light
I go wherever it leads me
wherever it needs me to be.
It's soft and inviting
It's loving and embracing.
It covers and protects.
He provides me with new life
new breath.
New freedom.

So like a master hunting down a runaway slave
you pound on my door every night
you call out my weaknesses
you sneak into my dreams
you shake me awake
you pound hard on my thoughts
you do everything it takes to make me hear you
feel you.

So this means I've gotten far enough to make you fear
to make you lose hope of ever controlling me
you know Who has my hands
you know Who's in my heart.

So satan
keep knocking
keep sending your attacks
your obnoxious thoughts
your silly temptations
it proves to me
that with all this you do to win me back
that not even your darkness assures you
that not even you can see.

He's always loved me, He always will,
more so in the dark when I cannot see.

On Being Small: An Advent Reflection

He must increase, but I must decrease. —John 3:30


Ann pointed this scripture out in her book.


And so here it goes...


I am small.


It's not easy to admit, that perhaps, to this world, I am but a spec of life. I am small. I am smaller than many trees, many bodies of water and even smaller than a six foot adolescent bear. I am so very small and I may even go as far to say that I am very weak. Yes, I am so very small and weak.

Many people don't like me. Many people don't like the things I do, the decisions I make, things I've said. It hurts and in turn makes me small. Many people have already judged me, have labeled me whether knowing me well or not knowing me at all. Some judgements are true and others not true, yet I've been decreased. I've been made small.  There are times when I judge, label and place self-importance. I've made mistakes, greatly sinned, struggle with things I only wish to have already overcome. In my very own lack of self-control I am weak...and small. I lack self-confidence, criticize myself constantly, never satisfied with what it is in front of me. My ingratitude makes me so very small. Sometimes I can't control my temper. Small. I yell. Small. I depend on the physical. Small. I wish for the greener side. Small. I'm no genius, I don't know much. Small.


But I whole-heartedly admit this self-insignificance with much love.


I am small and willing to get smaller so that I am no longer and God has taken over.


I must decrease, in however many ways He's willing to make that happen.


Because being small means I must depend solely on Him. Being weak means that I need Him to lift me up sometimes, to take the punches, to stand up for me. Small in me means great in Him because only through Him with Him and in Him can we be made great.


I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and difficulties for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong. — 2 Corinthians 12:10 (GNT)


I've much to learn about being small. I struggle with things, with people where instead I need to embrace my insignificance in the eyes of the world. Nothing here matters more than the world He has set up for me when this life is done. I believe in heaven. I believe in it so much that I will live this short life of trails to spend an eternity of peace. I will live it the way He's asked me to. In obedience, in servitude, in love, despite what storms may come against me. I shall live small. I will decrease.


And how fitting for the season we're upon.


Because if you think about how Jesus came into this world, a small infant, it makes us see how grand and joy-filled small can be.


We don't reject Baby Jesus, we celebrate His arrival. We wait in prayer, watch the scene, as Mary said Yes. We ponder St. Joseph's own Yes, his great faith in what God had planned for his life. We anticipate that road to Bethlehem, God protectively guiding a woman with child on such a treacherous journey. We're reminded of their troubles, their rejection, as each inn keeper said "Sorry, no room," the town brought to life, while Baby Jesus became ready to greet the world in this lowly form. We're amazed at how a squalid place for animals becomes a holy glorious site. And we follow a once small star, shine brightly for the whole world to follow and greet the beautiful Son of God.


The smallness, the quietness of our Advent season, it reminds me of how small is grand. Advent brings us full circle to ourselves, reminding us to come to Him small as He came to us. Make ourselves small so that Baby Jesus has room to grow.


...so I must decrease...because He will increase and I welcome His presence with open heart.


God bless!

Seeing With Eyes Closed

It's been a while since I've actually closed my eyes. I've been on a mission to keep all my five senses turned on so that I won't miss a thing. It's quite humbling, this use of all five senses. It reminds me of how much of this world I miss in a blink of an eye.

But sometimes, even if you think you're watching the scene, you still have not become a witness to it. I find that I look, but I have not learned to see.

Lately, Mother Teresa has been in my mind. I met someone yesterday who said he met the Blessed Mother Teresa face to face and her eyes...it took him a minute to describe her eyes...he says they were filled with the Holy Spirit.

Aaaah...

How could she have been any other way, if not completely filled with the Holy Spirit?

I wondered if when people look at me do they see the Holy Spirit? Do they see Him before they see me? Do they see Him in me?

Is it wrong to say that I wish they would?


The Holy Spirit beckons me to see. It beckons us all to see. It wills us to believe, to follow, to become faith. It tugs on our hearts every time we're just looking.

Like that child's game, where you cover ones eyes and say, "Guess who?"
The Holy Spirit is closing my eyes so that I can learn to see with my heart.


Ask me about the day I gave birth to my first child. Ask me about how when I felt the pains how my excitement grew. Ask me about the emptying that turned into immense and unspeakable joy. Ask me if I remember details, how my child's fingers trembled, how her mouth opened and closed as if trying to say "Hello there." Ask me how warm her small body was when I held it against my shaken body, how when I looked into her eyes...all I can think of, now, ...is the Holy Spirit.

I've taken on a different sacrament, one that is not included in the Holy Seven, but is an absolute gift from God. God has placed me on a different mission. If I look with my heart everyone becomes Jesus, including my own family, including me. I'm not God. No one but God is God, but everyone He's made carries His Spirit, the Holy Spirit within them. I can start out Mother Teresa's mission starting with those that started in my own womb. Starting with the ones that are here today, and the ones that are not. My starting mission is to be the best mother He asks me to be, the best wife I can be to my husband, gifts from God, to be the sister, the best daughter, the best friend, neighbor, cousin, employer, customer, stranger I can be. I have to start from somewhere.

So I'll start from within. I've got to learn to see.

Mother Teresa was filled with the Holy Spirit. She saw Jesus in everyone she met. She became the best Mother Teresa God called her to be. Her beauty from within was what she gave back to the world. She gave what she had become, LOVE. Mother Teresa was what love looks like if we had to describe it to someone else and when she looked at all the people she met, encountered, she saw Jesus. It was all she could see.

As I type out this passage, Jesus is asking me where did I put His laundry, Jesus is singing, at the top of His lungs, "I'm a Little Teapot," Jesus is clicking away on a video game and Jesus keeps moving my arm with His small hands so that He can lay His head on my lap.

If I open my eyes I'll see my husband, see my kids, but if I close my eyes and open my heart...


"Guess who Ivy?"

Jesus! It's You!

God bless!

The Writing's on the Wall...of Your Heart

Someone sent me an article regarding how this generation is a "feeling" generation, a people that won't believe unless they feel something.

Interesting.

Please watch this video.



Did you feel something?

Before watching this video I had already felt something. If I hadn't yet I would've now.

I'd like to thank my great friend Gen for sharing this with me.

God bless!

Struggling for Wings

I can imagine how painful it must be for a caterpillar to become a butterfly, it's whole physical appearance changing. Some think the caterpillar knows it'll be beautiful when it is done and therefore focuses on the outcome instead of the pain, the change. Does it know that it will no longer need to crawl on the ground but instead will fly anywhere it pleases? Does it know that it will no longer have a limited view of the world, but see the world through different eyes? No one knows but God. It's remarkable, nonetheless, that the caterpillar knows what needs to be done and does it, perhaps without never knowing why.

Once the butterfly is ready to come out it struggles. Up until the very end it struggles. It's little body and wings making every effort to free itself from its cocoon. This struggle, to push itself out of a tiny opening is truly the last stage of its metamorphosis. It strengthens the butterfly's wings, its legs for flight. Without this struggle the change would not be complete.

Some people have this huge misconception regarding Christians. Some think that once we've proclaimed our faith we should automatically be perfect folks, no more sin, no more struggle. Once we bow down to worship our lives should be like heaven, at peace, no worries, no pain. When life continues, even for us, when struggle occurs they ask, "Where's your God now?"


However, my life B.C. was empty, even with all I had. My hands were dirty, my mouth dirty and my heart dirty, almost beating it's last beats, way too congested with all things opposite of love. I was quietly slipping away and if it weren't for that hand that gripped mine and led me to His Passion I would've sunk deeper into that darkness. His road to Calvary allowed me to understand that all my years of suffering and struggle was what He experienced in one lonely day. I recognized every step, every anguished moment and at the end when He gave up His spirit I realized that I too could give up mine, to my Father. How could one dismiss this promise, this renewing, this cleansing so that at the end of it all there is a peace?

Peace.

His peace.

Isn't that what most of us are trying to acquire each and everyday?

Peace and quiet.

It doesn't happen overnight. It occurs in small steps. Whatever you can handle. Jesus has to consider that. So He gives healing in little spoonfuls.

No one gets better from a sickness from one day to the next. It takes time to get better. It also takes time to accept that you're healing, that there's a change happening within you. Some may think that's easy, but to begin a spiritual metamorphosis can be painful.

~~~

It's been quiet here. Like, in my own little heart it's been very quiet. I'm learning to slow it all down, to recognize what makes these wheels turn, to remember, not forget who's turning them.

I've been praying all day long. I've been having lengthy conversations, calm and collect, as if we were in a dark room where we needed to whisper.

I've been telling Him the things He already knows. I've been telling Him things He's been trying to coax out of me. He's been telling me things I need to hear, reversing the lies. And the more I get to see, the more I want to know.

I hunger for more love.

I feel I am on the right path but I know I'm far from done.

I'm continually changing. My heart continues to find new rhythms. My soul is purging. I'm shedding this skin. This slow process, this endeavor to become His new me, it's all for His purpose.

God is changing me into something beautiful. He's giving me delicate butterfly wings so that one day I can fly...

to Him.

God bless!

A Love Letter Nonetheless

Hey,

I remember the many nights I had a pen to a clean sheet of paper, the words flowing like a windy day across my eyes but never getting up the nerve, too lazy or just forgetting to send it to you. I know there's so much to say. I mean, so much has happened and yet it feels like only yesterday that things began to go wrong. You would think that we know each other so well, considering how long it's been and yet I just realized how much of myself I am unaware of.

I've been talking about you, praying about you, for you. I've been crying, been angry, sad, angry again. Mostly sad though. It's a familiar sadness. I know this feeling. I used to call it loneliness. I would convince myself that I was alone and I'd start to feel sorry for myself. True, you've left me alone many times and I get it, you had things to do, a life to live and discover. You chose you after so many years with those bitter feelings of having to live and chose for someone else. You fled to a place you thought would be home and thank God you did go. I know God had His reasons for why things happened. I saw it then just as I see it now and thank God that it did happen that way.

It still hurt though. It still hurts.

But I'm not sure you know that.

I remember feeling so sad for the way your dad treated you. How insulting he was. I wanted you to go, just so you wouldn't have to endure that. I remember. I wanted to hate him. Hating is harder to feel you know. It takes a lot of energy to hate. Feelings of hate begin to rot inside you. It make breathing difficult. I've tried to hate. I felt I had a right to hate, that I was owed that much. There were many times where I was sure that hate was the feeling I had for you. It was impossible. Hate is very weak. The moment you showed me a little bit of love, my "hate" disintegrated. So I guess hate wasn't ever the answer. Point is that I love you so much I was willing to hate for you. But hate is not a language that God has written, so since that is the case, hate doesn't exist. It's just an idea. Hate can't be a true feeling.

So, rest assured. After all we've been through, I harbor no feeling of hate.

I'm learning. I'm learning to let go, learning to replace things, feelings, ideas that I longed for yet never had. I remember watching what I wanted from a distance, you looking lovingly at someone else, but never at me. I was such a disappointment in your eyes. It almost seems like when I did do good it was funny to you. Okay, I'm starting to attack. My intention here wasn't to attack you, but to find God in you. I need to be reminded that even you are a creation of His. So much hurt and pain, let-downs and disillusions, nevertheless, this is a love letter because somewhere deep in that hard exterior of yours is God Himself. I just got to keep looking for Him in you. He knows my mistakes, my grave and ugly sins. I can never hide from them or Him. He's shown me love despite all I've ever done. He's forgiven me, so therefore I have to, want to forgive you.

And for that reason, I won't give up, can't give up. I'd be betraying Him first and I love Him more than my own life let alone your feelings. I'm angry, but I guess in this anger God too is present for I know He means to guide me even through this hot emotion. Hurt and anger. But first there's God.

I love you.
You let me live.
You raised me, in your way, you did.
And I understand you did the best you could.
It was hard for you before, but I know you try now.
I won't give up on you, I can't.
You are as much a gift to me as I am to you.
And I dedicate every prayer to you, every whisper to Him your name is included.
Maybe you will change, maybe you won't. It doesn't matter.
I'll make the change instead.
I have Protection. I have a Shield.
I'll stay in battle, even if it seems I'm losing.
Although perhaps God's plans are different from my desires.
I want both you and God to know that I'll keep insisting for you...
even after our hearts stop beating,
because I've been told that death is not the end,
but I pray that things don't come to that.
I love you no matter what has occurred
and I give thanks to God for helping me reach this hour to see it His way.

The Lord be with you.
Ivy

God bless!

Miraculous Views

Deuteronomy 4:32-40
Psalm77:12-16, 21
Matthew 16:24-28

Ever see a city from the small window of an airplane? You feel special being able to see this small portion of the world in bird's eye view. From this tiny porthole of a window you can see whole cities, landscapes, lights, all the life of the world below. For a moment you wish you can have this view forever, but how good it feels to be able to plant one's feet on the ground, your heart finally in its resting place because although having a special view of the world from the plane, this human perspective of the world feel normal, static. Point is that our normal view is very limited as opposed to the ariel view. From afar, you can see things as they really are, see more of them. From close we can only see what's in our visual range. The same goes for the heart.

In the eye of a hurricane, it's very hard to see, very difficult to asses the situation. So why does God give us such a limited view?

In those small range perspectives we are left with no choice but to trust that what we don't see is still there. In those cloudy moments, windy climates, dark heavy rainfall it's hard to see that Our Lord is still hard at work. We can only trust that His diligent Hands are working to save us, to later repair the damage from the onslaught of life's most tumultuous events.

Today's readings focuses on how ever present the Lord has been and will be. Even in those times when the Israelites felt they'd never get out of Egypt alive, or when the apostles learn that their beloved Teacher will soon leave them, God wanted them and us to remember that He's been there before, and He will continue to be there until the last day. However, in order for us to see this, we must recognize His works in our lives. We can't forget, or take for granted the miracles He's done for us as individuals. We must live our lives for Him, lest we lose it. We may gain the world and all its glittery things, but we will lose our souls. Jesus wants us to live with Him forever, but He won't be forceful. We have to hand this life over to Him willingly. In the meantime, He'll continue to mercifully perform miracles for us, to show us who He is and how much He loves us.

Perhaps we've never heard His voice through a burning bush, or seen His guiding presence in a cloud above. We've not yet given the opportunity to touch His wounds and see His face. But we are witnesses to His miracles even today. So Lord Jesus, here is a small list of miracles that showed me how present You have been, even in those moments when my view was so very, very small.

1. You were there when I was on that operating table, and beside me when I recovered.
2. You were there when I was depressed and you presented me with a piano.
3. You were right next to me during those labor pains and births of my girls.
4. You walked with me on those late nights when I had nothing but quiet, desolate streets ahead of me coming home.
5. You were with me during the many times when I found it difficult to breath.
6. You were with me on the subway when I thought my heart would explode from anxiety.
7. You were with me when I grieved for my lost loved ones and gave me pen and paper to release my pain.
8. You were with me on the many occasions of rejection by the ones I love the most.
9. You held up the cue cards when I needed to defend myself against others.
10. You held down my hands during those moments when I felt I couldn't take any more of this life.
11. You whispered the strength into my heart when I needed to let go of my sins.
12. You spoke guidance into my ears when my neighbor tried to take advantage of my situation.
13. You've given me wisdom during those dark hours where I was needed by others.

Jesus, the list goes on and on, but I know now that in these very scary moments You did all You can to bring me here today to recognize Your glory. I am and always will be eternally grateful and eternally Yours.

God bless!

Still: A 5 minute writing exercise

What a mess my life. There I was sitting in clothes just pissed on by my youngest, my oldest talking my ear off and I felt like a dragon with smoke coming out of my ears. It was only 8:30 in the morning but if this is how the day would proceed than Lord help me to calm down right now. It's good to know that I can call on Him at anytime but in the end, I know He depends on me to do the right thing.

The right thing. What is that? I just had a small discussion about how important politics can or cannot be. I just read an email about a university putting on a play that portrays Our Blessed Mother as a lesbian. And I think about how similar politics and religion are. Am I being too lackadaisical about the issues? Is that what's going on here? What about just living for God? What about leaving all the radical world behind and be radical about God? Be radical about the Man who rose from the dead and how we are saved because of this radical Lord who is just so in love with us He will stop at nothing to show us.

And I always "mistakenly" type god when I mean to write good. I guess they both mean the same thing. Amen.

Gasping For Air: How God's Big Gifts Can Go Unnoticed

Dear God,

Since when did parenting become such an uphill battle?

Since when do I scream and yet nobody wants to hear me?

Since when do the people in your life become so numb to one's feelings?

Since when did I become so numb to my own children's cries?

I figure if no one alive is willing to understand me, I know you will.

So how do I turn these stressful moments into beauty?

Every night, I toss and turn, gasping for air. I can't breath right any more. I'm congested with anxiety, anger. I'm clogged, already too full of all that I have to suppress throughout the day, trying to escape me every night. It's nightmarish, the fight to just breath. Such an easy thing, we do it so often we don't even notice it, until we can't do it anymore.

My days are to demanding to even think of rest and at night, my only opportunity to breath has been taken from me.

So God, dear God, how? How do I turn these scary moments into beauty?

Because I feel tapped out.

I'm beginning to feel depleted emotionally and physically. When the day ends I can't even crawl in bed to pray. I have to medicate and cough until some air can enter my lungs. I exhaust myself to sleep, only to wake up to a crying toddler. It pains me that even in a moment of refuge, all I am doing is begging you, pleading for some kind of help. Change me God, change me if I am to blame. Ease the situation for a few seconds to catch some air, to grab a sliver of sanity, to ask Mother Mary how she did it, what do I do?

So here is my moment. This is me up on my cross. Some may pass me by and say, "Deal with it," and I am, in a very bad way.

This is my little/big moment of suffering, where all I can do is go through it in hopes that I can either ride out my sentence in love and forgiveness or fight to remove myself from a situation my very own limbs have been nailed to.

I read somewhere that while on the cross Jesus gasped for air, suffered collapsed lungs, carbon dioxide increase, oxygen decrease, only able to say very little for lack of air and the inability to inhale and exhale due to the position His body was in.

How spiritual, how holy it is to really suffer just a touch of what Our Lord suffered. How He tasted our humanity to be able to comprehend our failures, our afflictions, our fears. To come down and endure human birth to human death, to be able to gently draw us closer to Him, to rest in His arms, to cry on His shoulders.

To know what it is like.

Just to know what it is like and drink it all in for us.

And we live in small worlds where our own know but won't acknowledge, don't care, are too afraid to help, are tired of helping. To pass pain by and pretend like you never heard it, seen it. A cry to deaf ears, a heavy silence after the loud scream, and all of us at one point in our lives have covered our ears and closed our eyes and kept walking.

But Jesus hears even the most silent of cries, the most distant. He heard Zaccheaus' need for a change of heart and Jesus invited Himself in. He heard Mary and Martha's tears for Lazarus and He decided to heed their pain with glory. Even in His debilitated state He heard the pleas of a thief on the cross and gave him the promise of eternal life in heaven.

So Jesus, I ask you now to help me in my time of need. Calm me down, Help me to see what it is You want me to do. You know that I alone won't prevail, but with You in the forefront I can't lose. If You remain in front of me I can't succumb to this situation. I can suffer like You did. Take in all that is going on and find the glory You always know how to insert into every situation. If at the end of the day, I lose all I have, I lose nothing if You live in my heart.

So forgive me if I've done this all wrong. Forgive me for not being able to trust in what You are doing in my life. Forgive me for re-acting and not STOPPING. Forgive me for thinking that I alone can handle this, that I alone can suffer. Forgive me for not calling on You sooner. Forgive me my self-pity, my accusations and assumptions. Forgive me for thinking that others can help me better than You can. Forgive me for thinking that my life right now sucks because I am going through a little bit of suffering, so little compared to the cross. Forgive me for not remembering Your trials and how lovingly You withstood them; how much of an example they are for me as they are my salvation.

And the little energy You have given me to gasp for air and wake up in the middle of the night to hug my child, the next morning to converse with You, ask You for help is more than enough to keep my mouth full of praise and thanksgiving. One day I may not wake up at all.

One more day is a gift, not a guarantee.

Amen to that!

God bless!