Day 3 in Greece!

Day 3: Early morning rise at 7:30am. Shower, followed by an enormous breakfast buffet. Fruit was not fresh unfortunately and the sausage was odd... sort of breadie tasting, so I didn't eat it. Then, at 10:30am we disembarked at Tessolonica. We boarded our buses and drove to the Catholic Cathedral for Mass. The church was smashed between apartment buildings and off the street. Everything is built VERY closely in Greece. The church was called Immaculate Conception--not the most beautiful church in Europe, but it was pretty.

Then, we drove to the White Tower and took photos. There were really fun looking ships at port that host 'bar cruises'. From there we went to the second tower up the hill of the citadel and close to the Acropolis. We drove past several University campuses, including Aristotle University, which used to be the Jewish cemetery but was destroyed by the Nazis in 1943. We reached the tower which hosted an amazing view of the city and the sea. Mount Olympus was visible across the water. Finally, our amazing bus driver navigated back down the hill to the church of St. Demetrius Martyr. This Byzantine Church is beautiful, adorned with lots of gold, icons, mozaic, and intricate wood carvings. The remains of St. Demetrius are there as well as St. Annysia, who was martyred for her faith.

Our tour guide was very difficult to understand and my jet lag was very bad today, so I'm afraid I did not learn as much as I should. We drove back to the ship where we had a late lunch--I had salmon and cream cheese wrapped in grape leaves with capers, and this GIANT white bean and tomato soup that was absolutely wonderful (seriously, never seen beans that large before). I took a short nap and then attended Mark Brumley's talk on the myths of St. Paul. It was very good, but the jet lag kept causing me to doze off (sorry, Mark...). I made up for it afterward by reading 5 chapters of Pope Benedict's book on St. Paul and then Paul's letter to the Thessalonians.

Eva and I read on the deck of the ship so we could watch it leave port. The ship left port a littler after 9pm. We are headed to Phillipi. I skipped dinner, because I was too full from our late lunch, but then I was hungry 20 mins after the dining area was supposed to close... Tessa convinced me to go in, because there were still people there and she asked a steward if they had food for me. And oooooh did they. They brought me out four courses: cheese, little sandwiches, meatballs and veggies, fruit, tiramisu and some sort of other crazy dessert. I'm gonna be a blimp by the end of this. Another early morning tomorrow!

Immaculate Conception Church

The entrance to the church, between two apartment buildings

The White Tower

A 'Bar Cruise'

St. Demetrius Church

St. Demetrius (sorry, my camera made him look like the Terminator)

Some amazing wood carving in the Church

First days in Greece!

So here begins my posts on my adventures in Greece and Turkey. I'm just copying my journal entries from those days, so it's not the most eloquent writing, but it gets the point across... Enjoy!

Days 1 and 2, October 17 and 18

The journey started off panicked with a delayed flight and some rerouting. But God showed his Providence by sending a new friend to sit next to me on the flight from Greensboro. We had a wonderful and meaningful conversation. She said, "I think this means good things are coming." We are both grateful for a new future friend. So that put me in a cheerful mood for my arrival in Newark. I was the only one on the transfer bus going to the International Terminal. So it brought some laughs from the other passengers when I was the only one to loudly answer "Yes!" when the driver asked if there was anyone stopping at Terminal B. Also had a lovely Greek meal before my flight to Munich. The flight went well--watched a movie and slept mostly. A short layover in Munich and then I was off to Athens!

Everything went smoothly--disembarking, claiming my bag etc., which was good because I was slightly delirious from lack of sleep. Stacy, one of the bus captains, and our taxi driver, Nikkos, met me at Arrivals. Nikkos was hilarious. Either someone paid him to act like the dad from My Big Fat Greek Wedding or that movie is very accurate. He informed Stacy and I of the oh so many words derived from Greek, and of course telling us the many wonders of his 2,000 year old home city of Athens. Greece claims itself to be the oldest country in the world... according to any Greek you may talk to. Nikkos drove us the 30 mins to the port of Lavrios on the East coast of the country to board our ship, 'Aura'. Definitely an amazing vessel. The crew is so friendly and helpful helping us with our bags and getting us to our rooms. Actually, I made it to the ship much earlier than most and took a much needed shower in our tiny, but nice, bathroom. Note here: only about 200 passengers are actually on the cruise, and the ship can hold 900--so we all got upgraded to better rooms! Which means Katy and I got a room with windows on the outside of the ship.

I'd like to give you a brief description of the ship: There are 8 upper passenger decks and 2 crew decks at the bottom of the ship. Our cabin was on Dionysius Deck, or the 6th deck. The 7th deck, just above our deck, holds more passenger suites, the reception area, the duty free shop, and the photo gallery. The 8th deck, going up, holds the Mermaid Restaurant, where we ate most of our meals, the Reflections Lounge and Bar, Casino, Library, Internet Corner, and the Stars Lounge. The 9th deck holds some suites, the Beauty Salon, Spa, hospital, and the Horizon's Buffet and pool which is partly inside and also on deck--this is where midday tea is held and where you could grab a drink or snack while we were sailing. The 10th deck has another swimming pool, the sun deck, the fitness center, and the multi-level Venus Bar and the mini-golf course.

Day continued: The group who stayed at the hotel the night before arrived and it was wonderful to see some familiar faces. We explored the ship, enjoyed tea time, and a safety drill where we all mustered to our designated lifeboats. Then, we waited for those who were coming from Rome--they were quite late, not arriving until around 7:30 in the evening. We finally had dinner which consisted of Greek salad, Baba ganoush, tsatziki, some unknown delicious sauce, beets, pita bread, chicken, sliced potatoes, vegetables, feta cheese, followed by baclava, brownie, cheese meringue pie, and fruit. We are on a pilgrimage, right? This was followed by Mass celebrated by Fr Mark Mary in the "Reflection Lounge" which is located in a bar/aquarium/casino...so, that was different. We also had a brief adoration afterward.

Then, a few of us went up on deck to see the full moon and explore. I cannot tell you how crazy it felt to be on such a massive ship in the middle of the Aegean Sea, looking at the brightest moon I've ever seen and the wind whipping through my hair. It was hard to finally go back to my cabin. I will remember that moment forever--traveling on an ancient sea, Greece's mountain range just visible in the light of the moon, and thinking of our Church fathers making this same journey. It took my breath away.

I'm back!

Hello again! Remember me? Yes, I know. It's been awhile. Well, lots has been going on.... First of all, I moved! I'm living in Greensboro, North Carolina. And as I sit here typing in my living room in the sweltering heat, I. am. loving. it. I missed warmth so much in San Francisco. Sigh... It is AMAZING what a change of weather can do for your health and sanity. Anyways, I have been here since the beginning of March and I have been given the wonderful privilege and opportunity of working from home, so now I can write more! Yay! And now that it's been a few months and I'm finally getting my act together, I am starting up my blog again and working on my book. The goal is to write at least one blog post every other week and of course work on my book every week. I'm also still writing movie reviews for Catholic World Report (my Star Trek review should be published in the next few days! Stay tuned!). I know my book deadline has come and gone, but God made it abundantly clear that I needed to get my life in order and find some happiness first. So. That's exactly what I'm doing.

Now that I have moved back to the South, I am reconnecting with my roots and some parts of me I may have lost while out in California. It's like a breath of fresh air. I am where I want/need to be, I am doing what I want to do, I am dating a great guy, and I am blessed with a job I enjoy that also happens to feed and clothe me and keep me from living in a cardboard box. Raise your hand if you're a fan of sleeping indoors! I've also been working on my health by going to see a doctor for the first time in oh... I don't know... probably 5 years or so. I joined a Zumba class. (Sidenote: for those you who don't know what Zumba is... just Youtube it. You might get a chuckle imagining me shaking my oh so non-latin hips like that.) My spiritual health is also being renewed. I'm trying to get into a better prayer schedule, doing some spiritual reading, and some adoration. I've also joined my church choir. Basically, I'm resetting. I'm trying to start over and realize who I really am and not who I thought I was or who anybody else thought I was. Maybe it's my mid-twenties crisis... heck, who knows. Whatever it is, it's happening. God's will be done.

And all of this is just to say that I'm back! Meryl Moments are back in full swing... and I plan on writing what I want, whether it's little thoughts like this, short stories, poems, or a sentence. I'm going to do it. I can't get better at anything unless I practice, right? Speaking of... I'm learning French too! So, look out world, cuz... Backstreet's back! ALRIGHT! Ahem...

The Hobbit

My review of the new film The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey!

Where sickness abounds, there is a deeper problem...

My heart broke hearing about the 20 innocent children and 6 adults massacred in Connecticut today. There is never enough to say when lives are so unjustly taken, especially so many and so young. Unfortunately, these events are not so uncommon. And why is that? Maybe, in light of these events, we should examine the modern human condition. How was such a shooter created? Why are we mortified at these events, but so few are shocked at the millions of babies massacred everyday through abortion?

We are desensitized. Most have blocked out reality and created their own world of superficiality and technological ‘joy’. We have lost our human connection. Communication is faceless and our time for others is but a moment—in a tweet or a text message. God is dead or does not exist, and therefore there is no right or wrong. Family is no longer a priority, but a burden in the crazy flux and flow of our lives.  It is no wonder then that such a monster was born from our society. Such nihilistic values have shaped us into unfeeling and lifeless creatures.

But we know in the core of our being that this is not Man’s purpose. Our purpose is to love. We must pray, certainly, for the poor souls lost today… especially for the shooter who, clearly, was in tremendous spiritual and mental turmoil. But let today also be a reminder that we are still killing hundreds, if not thousands, of children everyday to serve own selfish whims.

Twenty children were shot today, but many more were torn from their mother’s womb without having a chance to make their mark on the world. Violence is never good, whether it is in the privacy of a medical clinic or in a school—two places where humans, especially children, should feel safe. Ever since the Fall of Man, violence against the innocent has long been a horror. The Slaughtering of the Innocents in the Old Testament came quickly to mind after hearing of the terror in Connecticut. It seems that children, even those who are unborn, suffer the most from Man’s shortcomings. We should be ashamed of ourselves. We are all responsible for the sufferings of these little ones, just as we are all responsible for the death of Christ.

How sad that a man should feel compelled to kill dozens of people to make a statement. This is an extreme, but a very real example of what our disillusionment can spawn. Lack of love produces a lack of life. That is truly the root of the problem—our lackluster disposition toward faith and love, and lacking the passion about what matters in life. We have gotten so caught up in our own Dante-ish whirlwind, that we find ourselves absentmindedly tiptoeing over the dead bodies piling higher. We no longer understand Joy as something attainable—in this world we must simply accept the ugliness and try to patch it over with superficial distractions. We are a hopeless race.

This same attitude of death and hopelessness is what brought Christ to the Cross. The fallen human condition causes us to crucify and kill those things which are most beautiful and most innocent. Our pride blinds us to what we know is greater and more pure than ourselves, and out of envy, we must destroy it. But Christ has conquered sin! Now, with Him, we can accept what is beautiful and remove the real evil within ourselves. The world cannot and will not change unless we first concentrate on what is truly corrupt—our own hearts.

Sin makes us hopeless, but the Resurrection has restored our life. Let us strive then to promote a culture of life in the midst of a world so entrapped in its own culture of death. Satan, sin, and death are very real, as the events of today prove. But Christ is greater than these. The Church is greater than these. We are God’s hands and feet. Reach out to those who are hurting, spread the good news, wipe away tears, shine with the love of Christ, and root out the sin within yourself.

On the loss of brilliance

The world really has lost its sense of brilliance. All anybody does is throw insults at the other or scream about how stupid/liberal/conservative everybody is, or how God doesn't exist, or my life sucks, or fairy tales are full of it, blah blah blah blah blah blah, whine whine whine...

Why aren't there intelligent conversations about the essence of beauty? The real meaning of love? Why don't we discuss great pieces of literature... not the horrors that are known as 'literature' today (aka Twilight, Fifty Shades of Gray, etc)? Why don't we talk about the lives of great historical figures instead of the latest Jersey Shore drama? (Could someone please explain that obsession...because I really don't understand how someone with half a brain stem could watch that for five minutes without slitting their wrists.) Has the world really been degraded to this? 

I'd like to recall people back to their humanity. Put down your smartphones, iPads, laptops, pagers...whatever you kids use these days... and pick up a book! Read Tolstoy or Dickens or Lewis or Tolkien! Strike up a conversation with your coworker on the meaning of life. Start using your intelligence! Go out and watch the stars at night instead of plugging into Netflix. Write in your journal. Talk to a friend you've been meaning to catch up with. Whoa... here's a good one... pray. 

Life is short, but it is beautiful. Don't waste it. Sometimes it means taking some risks or being rejected or hated or lost... but it also means having adventures, laughing, crying, loving, eating, talking, tripping, skipping, flipping, living. I'd like to close my little rant with a quote, ""Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."-Ten points to Gryffindor if anyone can guess where it's from! 

Megan, you can't answer... 

Broken

Love is unattainable
Unreachable and unbearable
But there is One who can reach

The One who is Love incarnate

Reaches down into the Pit
And pulls us to Himself

Through Him do we attain

Through Him are we given it
And through Him our Cross is Borne

I'm Published!!!!

Follow this noooowwwww!!!

My article on the new movie The Hunger Games!!!!

Arise! Be Not Afraid!

Yes, I am back. At least, temporarily. I just felt particularly inspired to write this evening, because I wanted to share. What is the point of great thoughts if I do not share them through writing? Do not worry my faithful readers (even though there may be only 17 of you), I am still working on my book, and I hope to have a rough manuscript submitted to a publisher on May 1 of next year. Dear God, please help me make that deadline...if not for my pride, then for my sanity.

So, at last, what I wish to share with you. Certain lessons, as most of us well know, can only come through pain and suffering. I have been fortunate enough to be blessed with a job, a home, comfort, clothing, a loving family, and the most wonderful friends I could ask for. I have not suffered as the martyrs or the people in Sudan might be suffering...but I know what pain feels like—I know the utter emptiness of heartbreak—how the pain can cripple you, make you not want to move or do anything. The pain eats at you like a cancer...but only if you let it. A wise priest told me that life is all about loss. "But it's not just about loss," he said, "It's about how you handle that loss. Do you handle that loss with grace? Or do you let it handle you?" I am afraid to admit that at some points, I have let it handle me. But then, I pick myself up, embrace my cross, and I walk on. And I find...I am stronger than before. I have NO IDEA what God is asking of me sometimes, but now I know what He is asking of me ALL THE TIME. To do everything I can to not look to myself. I cannot do everything. I cannot handle everything. I am not little Miss Invincible. I am weak. I am nothing. But when I realise this...God gives me the strength to handle whatever comes my way, even if it is pain, loss, suffering.

I do not wish to dishearten my readers. I think I am happier than I have ever been. Actually, not happy...joyful. There is a definite difference. Happiness is that great feeling I get when someone does something nice for me, or when I accomplish something...but joy...OH joy! It's that swelling of the heart that stirs my soul and makes it sore to the heights, because I have loved someone else. Things that I have found to be mundane and tedious have new meaning...I find joy in my work, because I do it for others and for God.

I may have lost something...or someone...but I have gained an infinite amount of riches. I am no longer afraid of what life has in store for me...be it happiness or pain...because I know that God is with me. It seems my heart must bleed in order for me to realise that. Go on then, let it bleed... If it stopped, it might harden into that horrible selfish person that I no longer wish to be. Perhaps this is too personal a post, but I am tired of being fearful of what others may think of me. I want to be me...passionate, crazy, joyful, wacko me. Today, I am no longer afraid. I will no longer hide my words.

Life is definitely about loss...but after we come out of the fog and into the light, we realise that what we have lost is not as important as what we have gained. So, Father (who remains anonymous), I beg to differ. Life is all about GAIN. There are of course losses, but those moments are fleeting, although they may be dark. But when the veil has lifted, and we see the risen shining Son (pun intended of course), the gain is so much greater. It's true 'no pain, no gain' (this is where I'm supposed to insert some awesome Greek relationship between the words both ending in 'ain', but uh...I can't), so look alive! Arise! Be not afraid...for I am with you until the end of the age...

Under Construction

News Flash! This blog is currently on pause/under construction for several reasons:

1. I have not had time to think about my blog for the past several months.

2. I am actually going to be working on my book which needed to be finished like...yesterday.

3. I would like to rework the layout of my blog and maybe add some extra features/sections that I think would be enjoyable.

So! Sorry to disappoint you all (because I know soooooooooooooo many people read this). Pray for me as I work on my epic novel. Maybe next time you read this, I'll be a famous novelist. :D :D :D

Sophie

Sophie stood outside. The rain had been pouring for hours. She was cold and wet, but the fear of going inside was greater than the fear of catching cold. She passed by this place everyday and had never been tempted to go inside… those days had long past. So, why was she still standing there, wondering if she should try again?


Her mother had called that afternoon. “Sophie?” said the voice on the other line. “Mom? What’s the matter? You haven’t called me in five years. How did you even find this number?”

“Your father is dying.”

“Oh.”

“I think he wants you to be here.”

“Yes.”

“We’re at St. Mary’s Hospital, Room 402A.”

Dial tone…

Sophie hung up the phone and stared out her kitchen window. The sky was darkening and it was beginning to drizzle. She grabbed her coat and keys from the living room. Bruce was laying on the couch, shirtless, a beer in his hand, watching the game.

“Where you goin’, love?”

“Out.”

“Well, wait a minute—“

“I’ll be back. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Soph—“

“Bruce… I’ll be back.”

Sophie’s mind was in a whirl as she left her apartment building. She hadn’t seen her parents in years. Now Dad was dying? What would her mother say? She looked a wreck, had no job, and barely knew the man living with her. Sophie remembered the day that she left her parents’ house forever.

“Mom, I love him! It will all work out!” Sophie screamed.

“Sophie, he doesn’t love you! You’re seventeen for goodness sake!”

“Mom, you haven’t got a clue!”

“Soph…he impregnated you…”

“Not anymore…”

“What do you mean? You didn’t…”

“He came with me. They were very nice…said it wasn’t anything but cells at this point.”

“Sophie…”

“Mom, I knew what I was doing ok?”

Her mother started sobbing. Sophie’s dad had simply stood there, speechless.

“I didn’t know what else to do, Mom.”

“You could have talked to a bloody priest, first!”

“That wouldn’t have helped anything, Mom.”

“No, maybe it wouldn’t…”

Her dad had left the room. Sophie had just sat there—numb and empty. Her mother continued crying. Finally, Sophie’s dad reappeared carrying her school bag. It was full of clothes and toiletries.

“Dad, what—“

“Out.”

“What?”

“Get out, and don’t come back.”

“Are you joking me, Dad?”

Silence.

“Fine! I’m gone! Brad and I will get married and live happily ever after! You’ll see!”

Sophie grabbed her bag from the floor where her father had dropped it and stormed out the door. She had stolen her father’s truck and driven to Brad’s house. He wasn’t home. He wouldn’t answer his cell phone either.

Sophie moved into her best friend’s basement. Her dad came for the truck, but she didn’t see him. She got her friend to drive her to the bus station one day, and she used her last bit of money to get to downtown San Francisco. She bused tables at a Mel’s Diner and managed to get a shabby apartment. Brad never called back. The News said they found his body in the Bay… just another jumper for the month of November.

Sophie managed to find other guys over the years, but all the faces she had seen lying in her bed were now a blur. One had gotten her so drunk the night before, that she missed getting up for work the next day. There were plenty of people who could bus tables, so Mel’s Diner no longer required her services. That’s when she met Bruce.

He said he would take care of her. She didn’t have to worry anymore. And the first time he hit her and he’d never do it again, Sophie believed him. He hit her again—this time he left a mark. She told him to leave, but he just laughed and said she couldn’t get on without him. He was right. He paid most of the rent and kept her off the street. So, what was she to do? Bruce would stay.

So, Sophie tried to make the best of it. She would fix meals for herself and Bruce, and insist they eat at the card table and not the T.V. She had also tried looking for more work… but simply no one would a trashy looking girl with no experience and not even a high school degree. In the end, Sophie became a 22-year-old unmarried homemaker for an abusive boyfriend. Sometimes she wondered if Bruce even noticed when she brought flowers home for the card table, or that time she found that Van Gogh painting at Goodwill and hung it above the couch. Was anything worth it? Was her life even worth it? Maybe she ought to jump like Brad…maybe he was better off than she was.

All this replayed in Sophie’s head as she made her way to the hospital. No one smiled or even so much as glanced at her on the bus… This city, she thought, everyone is as miserable as I am. She melted into the crowded bus…just another nameless face.

Sophie settled next to an old woman who had a scarf around her head, and an old string shopping bag clutched in her gnarled hand. Sophie noticed she smelled like brandy and old cheese. The old woman turned to Sophie and smiled with decaying teeth. Sophie drew back, slightly disgusted, but managed a wan smile.

“What you doing?” the woman said in a thick Russian accent.

“I’m sorry?” Sophie replied, not really wanting to get into a conversation.

“I saaaay….What yooouuuu dooooing?” the woman said slower.

“Oh…ummm…I’m going to visit someone in the hospital,” Sophie replied.

“Ah!” the woman said, “I pray for them.”

“That’s not really necessary, thank you.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I do it anyway,” she said, and she turned her head away from Sophie. Sophie rolled her eyes and stared straight ahead, hoping the old hag didn’t feel the need to say anything more.

The bus finally stopped. Sophie got up, and was about to walk off the bus, but the old lady grabbed her wrist. “You must visit him!” she said staring wildly at Sophie. “Uh…I am,” Sophie replied, confused and a little annoyed. “No,” the woman pointed out the window, “ Him.” She was pointing to the massive doors of Saint Ignatius Church.

Sophie looked at the woman, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” Sophie said and she pulled her hand away and got off the bus. Sophie ran across the street, away from St. Ignatius, and toward St. Mary’s hospital. She walked in through the automatic doors and up to the check-in counter.

“Can I help you?” the nurse behind the counter asked.

“Yes, I’m looking for my father, Ed Atherton. I believe he’s in room 402A,” Sophie explained.

The nurse typed something into her computer. “Your name, please?”

“Sophia Atherton.”

The nurse printed out a visitor’s band and handed it to Sophia.

“Go to the fourth floor. It’ll be the third door on your left.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said, and she walked toward the elevator. Her heart started pounding as she waited for the elevator. She was going to see her parents after five years. What would her mother think? Would her father forgive her? Would he even speak to her? Could she forgive him? Would he even be conscious enough to know she was there?

The elevator finally arrived and Sophie stepped inside. Another man got on with her. He was wearing a suit, and Sophie could also see he was very attractive. He was definitely one of those tall, dark, and handsome types. He smiled at her pleasantly, and smiled back, wishing she had more elegant clothing and a better haircut.

“Pretty nasty weather huh?” he asked.

“Yeah...” Sophie answered stupidly.

“So, are you visiting someone?” he asked.

“Yes, my father.”

“Oh, I hope everything is ok,” he said kindly.

“I’m not sure it is,” she answered.

“Hmmm,” the man said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you have the need for a priest…I know one in the hospital.”

Sophie stared at him. “Oh, ummm…yes, actually. He is Catholic. That might be nice.”

“What room?”

“402A.”

“Great, I’ll page him.”

“Ummm…thank you.”

The man smiled and got off on the third floor. Sophie frowned after he left. That was weird…she thought.

The elevator dinged on the fourth floor, but Sophie hesitated. I can’t ignore him, she thought, I have to at least see him before he dies. She stepped out, hands shaking and fluorescent lights shining in her eyes. Slowly, she walked down the hall.

The door to 402A was open, so she walked in. Sophie’s mother was sitting by the side of the bed, holding her father’s hand. His eyes were closed. There was a soft beeping coming from the monitor.

“Mom?” Sophie said hesitantly. “Sophie?” Sophie’s mother ran and embraced her. Sophie realized she was crying and pulled away. Her mother was crying too.

“Honey, we’ve missed you. Why didn’t you come back home?”

Sophie glanced at her sleeping father.

“He didn’t mean it…he tried to find you…He hardly even slept.”

Sophie nodded. Somehow she had known he would have let her come back. Pride and anger had kept her away. Sophie thought she could take care of herself. What did she have to show for it? Bruce? Yeah right…

Sophie moved over toward the hospital bed. “Dad?” she managed to croak. She took his hand. His eyes opened and he looked at her.

“Sophia…my little girl,” he said, tears in his eyes.

“Yes, Dad, it’s me…”

“Soph, I never meant…please…”

“Dad, it’s ok. It was my fault…all my fault.”

“No…no…I failed as your father. I made you run from the one place you should have felt safe.”

“Dad… please…”

“Sophia…forgive me. I can’t undo what I did, but I want you to come back…start over. Visit your mother…”

“I don’t know…Dad, things are…different.”

“Sophie, I know that I hurt you, and I caused you to stay…come back…for your mother’s sake.”

Sophie kissed her father’s hand and sobbed.

“I’ve ruined myself, Dad. I can’t—“

There was a knock, and the priest entered. “I’m Fr. O’Grady,” he said, “Someone paged me for this room.”

Sophie got up and left the room with her mother, while her Dad received Last Rites.

“Sophie, dear, come home,” her mother implored. Sophie just looked at her sadly. Sophie’s mother caressed her face. “Do not despair, my little daughter; there is always hope.” Sophie looked away.

Fr. O’Grady came out and told them they could go back in. The kindly priest took Sophie’s hand and squeezed it as she passed him. She turned to thank him, but he was already walking away, so she re-entered the room.

Sophie noticed her father looked more peaceful. She knelt on his right side while her mother moved to the left of the hospital bed. Sophie knew there wasn’t much time.

“Dad…I love you. And…I forgive you.” Sophie’s father stroked her face and several tears ran down his cheeks. Sophie’s mother leaned over and kissed her husband on the forehead. He sighed deeply and Sophie felt his hand go limp. Sophie looked up and saw her mother weeping. She knew what she had to do, but she was terrified.

Without a word, Sophie got up and left the hospital. She was barely aware that she was crossing the street. And that’s how she found herself standing outside the doors of St. Ignatius Church.

Why was she here? What was she doing? Was it the old woman? The man in the suit? Fr. O’Grady? Her father? Why couldn’t she just open the door instead of continuing to stand in the rain? Why couldn’t she just leave?

Suddenly, Sophie looked down. Sophie was startled to find a young boy smiling up at her. He looked strangely familiar…he had her eyes. The boy took her hand and led her through the doors. Before she knew what was happening, Sophie found herself in the sanctuary. Fr. O’Grady came out of one of the confessionals, and noticing her, approached her. “Welcome home, child,” he said. Sophie looked but the little boy was nowhere to be found. A single tear fell as she said with a smile, “Father, will you hear my confession?”

He'll Break My Heart

This is a poem I wrote awhile ago, just expressing some frustration over a stupid crush... enjoy!

He'll break my heart
I know he will
But there's nothing I can do
I pray to God I'll stop feeling this way
It's tearing me apart

I've known it for far too long
This can never be
The love I have for him
Will never be requitted
He will never love me

If not for Christ
My heart would be in two
So I kneel
And offer my pain for you

He can never know
How much I've suffered
For his sake—So when I am dead and gone
Please send this in kind
That my love for him was always pure
But his heart was ever blind

To lay the smackdown or not to...

Initially, I was going to write this absolutely amazing smackdown regarding the "homosexuality" comment on a previous post.  But I decided that maybe that is not the best course of action. People who suffer homosexual tendencies have heard all the arguments, and I'm sure they're sick of hearing the same things over and over again.  So, I decided to do something different....something radical.  And hopefully this will dispel the thought of me being bigotted and hatfeul, and...I hope... open the hearts of those who suffer homosexual tendencies and those who believe homosexuality is a good thing...

Dear Brother/Sister in Christ,
       You are loved. I hope you know that. I love you, but most of all, Christ loves you. Even if you don't believe in God, the Truth still remains—He loves you. Keep that in mind as you read the rest of this letter.
   What you are feeling, you know deep down in your heart is not true. It is a lie. Do not allow yourself to be tempted... This is a Cross that you must bear—allow God to carry it for you. You do not have to give in; you do not have to "come out" despite what the world tells you.
   You know what a true family looks like—one man, one woman: husband and wife. You know this, because it is written on your heart. You know this, because that is how you came into being—the love of a Man and a Woman is Creative. It brings life! Love, true love, naturally spawns a new life! Any love without this is empty, lifeless, nothing...superficial.
   There is a solution, although you may not like it. Turn to Him! Let Him take this disordered attraction from you! Turn to those who can help you and lead you towards a holy and chaste life.
   I am praying for you everyday! May God bless you abundantly, and let His face shine upon you. I beg you...come home! The Truth will set you free!
      Your Sister in Christ,
         Meryl

For those interested in further information on homosexuality or homosexual counseling visit:
www.narth.com

Here are several books on the homosexual condition, as well:
The Truth About Homosexuality by Father John Harvey It can be found here.

The Battle for Normality by Dr. Gerard Aardweg, this is a self-counseling book for a struggling homosexual, but it holds a great deal of good information as well. It can be found here.

The Discussion on Sex...

I'm sure this will make a great deal of people angry, maybe even some of my Catholic friends, but I thought I'd post it anyway. I think this will also be an important read that preceeds my next post which will be on homosexuality... (I am not "hate-filled" as a previous commentor claims)...but that is for another day.
http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/document.php?n=999

This is an article by Alice von Hildebrand, whom I have tremendous respect for. I have always enjoyed her and her husband’s writing, and she always expresses herself so beautifully…I’m never left questioning what she really means. This is an article addressing Christopher West’s take on the Theology of the Body…something I’ve been struggling with for a long time, and she makes everything VERY clear. What I have been questioning in my heart, she has brought to light. I know that I am guilty of talking openly, even explicitly, regarding the Theology of the Body, but von Hildebrand reminds us that the marital act is something that should be approached with awe and veiled in mystery. It is not something to talk crudely about in a bar… Catholics too are guilty of talking in inappropriate terms about sex. As she says, “just because it’s wrapped in religious language, does not make it right.”



A couple years ago, I had the great privilege of studying with Dr Michael Waldstein, the very translator of John Paul’s Theology of the Body. He taught in precisely the way von Hildebrand says the subject should be taught. I was left in utter awe of the beauty of the sacrament of marriage, and the wonderful mystery that surrounds the human body. Our body’s speak a THEOlogy…a study of God. So, we are mysterious in our very existence as human. I have a lot of respect for what Christopher West is trying to do—reach out to young people who have been injured through pre-marital relations; but I believe von Hildebrand is right when she says he’s going about it in the wrong way.
I was talking to a co-worker of mine today, and she brought up a very crucial point. Planned Parenthood’s strategy is to bring the sexual act out into the open, and get young people talking about it…and the younger, the better. So, how is it right for US to try and do something similar? Talking about sex still gives rise to temptation, no matter how you talk about it, so it should be handled very delicately. I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk about it AT ALL, I’m simply bringing up the point, that maybe we should think before we speak, or get into one of those super-charged discussions about pre-marital sex and contraception. THERE IS a way to talk about the marital act, and Pope John Paul II expressed it, I would say, almost perfectly.

Super size me!

This is going to be a rather large post, because I haven't written in quite awhile and there are sooooo many things I want to write about. This incredibly delicious and overly long post will consist of 3 basic parts: Southern food, Ugrateful/Bratty/Undisciplined Monster Children (also known as trick-or-treaters), and You Know you're in San Francisco when..... Please bear with me and read all three. I think you'll enjoy! :)

Southern Food

A couple weekends ago, I had the pleasure of visiting my very good friend Lise who lives in Mobile, AL. Lise is awesome. Why? Because she's Canadian, Catholic, and cool. Three basic c words that define the word "awesome". But I'm deviating from the topic....FOOOOOD. Everybody loves food, and nobody likes it better than people in the South. I'm serious. I grew up in Georgia, and lived in the South most of my life, and let me tell you...those people can eat. The first thing I notice now whenever I'm in the Atlanta Airport, people are BIG! And I'm not talkin the good buff body builder big, I mean the you need to go on the Biggest Loser big... After living in California for a year and a half now, I have totally forgotten what really fat people look like, and when I went to Alabama a couple weeks ago my mind was violently jarred back to good ole Southern Reality.  And I have found the reason for this horrible Fatty Fatkins epidemic...Lambert's!!

What is Lambert's you might ask? Well, allow me to enlighten your mind. It is positively the craziest, most fattening, awesome southern restaurant you have ever been to. I kid you not. Not only can you order great southern food like fried chicken, meat loaf, pot roast, fried apples, frog legs, etc. , but waiters come around with "pass arounds" all night long. These "pass arounds" include fried potatoes, macaroni and tomatoes, black eyed peas, fried okra, and so much more. And these start coming to you even before you get your food!!! Then.....oooooooh then....I haven't even told you the best part. Every few minutes, a boy comes around with a cart filled with fresh hot rolls (yum!) and....HE THROWS THEM AT YOU! I do not lie. There are flying rolls going over tables, booths, and fat people's heads all over the place! Let me just put this in perspective for you....

You're sitting at a restaurant just minding your own business, maybe talking with your friends, or contentedly eating your pass arounds while you wait for your real food (if it can be called that), and then you hear "HOT ROLLS! FRESH HOT ROLLS!" You look up. As if out of nowhere, you see a roll go flying across the room and into the awaiting hands of a fellow restraunter.... You look to see the source of the catapulting rolls, and you see him....and oh no....he sees you....and you've made eye contact. And before you can even think, there's a roll coming straight toward you, and even though you feel like a complete idiot, you go to catch it, because  you'd rather it didn't hit you full in the face. And then...you're hooked. Every time the roll guy comes by, you have to yell at him and madly wave your arms so he'll chuck a roll to you. And before you know it, you're stuffed full of delicious white flour that's horribly bad for you. Then...your food finally comes. Oh no! What am I to do? I'm already full from all these amazing rolls and other fried fatty foods...what do I do with my main dish? And, instead of being smart and asking for a To Go box, you decide, "Whatever, I've already gone this far, so might as well keep going!" And you dig in with hopeless abandonment.

Now, do you understand why all these people are fat? I tell you...this restaurant is entirely to blame. Ok, maybe not entirely to blame....There are definitely some good ole Souther Moms that know how to whip up an old fashioned southern meal and a "Ya'll come back now, ya hear?" Mothers, why must you be so good to us? So, my faithful readers, let this be a warning to you....the South is awesome, but if you decide to go there, you might as well accept that you'll grow to be a blimp, or the size of a small killer whale.


Ugrateful/Bratty/Undisciplined Monster Children (also known as trick-or-treaters)

I have the happy privilege of living in the most popular neighborhood for trick-or-treaters in San Francisco. Why is it so popular? Because it's full of old rich people who actually give out candy instead of drugs, so parents feel somewhat more comfortable going there with their kids instead of the Castro district where they have drunken gay/lesbian halloween revelry. Yeah....San Francisco is great.... Did you catch that sarcasm? Anyways, let me tell you what Halloween has become....

When I was a kid, Halloween was awesome! It was a time when you got to dress up as the latest super hero, disney princess, or other awesome character that you totally wished you could be. You also got to go out with your friends (on a school night most times) and go from door to door asking for candy. How much cooler could you get? Well...for some reason, some people have this horrid idea that Halloween is a time to dress either scary as hell or as slutty as conceivably possible, get completely wasted, and run around acting like total idiots that have no souls. Sooo....I thought it would be better if I stayed at home, dressed as a hill-billy (a totally cheap, neutral, and non scary costume that does not make me look like a hooker), had some friends over to watch the world series, and give out candy to cute little kids.

Well....it was a great time, don't get me wrong. But let me tell you something....these kids were the biggest balls of snot, and I wanted to kick half of them off my porch and tell em they could get their candy somewhere else. This phenomenon of completely selfish little human beings was something I had not experienced to this magnitude before. Allow me to put this experience into perspective for you:

Your door bell rings for about the 25th time that night and you've about had enough of giving out candy, but you open your door anyway. Bad choice. There are literally 20+ kids on your porch, destroying your meticulously carved pumpkin, and kicking over your land lady's plants. Then, after you get over the initial shock and start giving out candy, these little brats notice the ginormous basket of candy behind you (there's a reason why you don't just stick the basket in front of the kids) and start stampeding into your house. Yes....true story. Soon, the little demon children are just helping themselves, and you look up to see about 50 adults who call themselves "parents" just staring at you from the bottom of the porch saying things like "Aren't they so cute?" and "Awww....this is my little darling's 3rd year trick-or-treating." They have no regard whatsoever that they've allowed their little monsters to penetrate your private place of residence and put you in a horribly foul mood.

As if that isn't bad enough, you also get the parents who still think they're hot enough to dress like whores and walk around with their pre-school age children. Really? You're Snow-White? I would have guessed your name was Bambi....or Candy. There are also parents who think that bringing their two-month-old trick-or-treating is a brilliant idea. I think that's a sad case of the parents just being too cheap to go and buy their own damn candy. Then, there are the teenagers who come to your door dressed as nothing but the bums that they are, expecting you to give them candy. I was so enraged at one point that I chucked Hershey's Kisses at their arrogant pubescent pimply faces and slammed the door. The feeling was quite euphoric.

So, my question is...where did the magic of Halloween go? Maybe it's just the city I live in....but this was probably the worst year of trick-or-treaters I have seen yet. I just did not want to witness that much of fallen human nature on one night. And the sad part is....I DIDN'T EVEN LEAVE MY HOUSE!

You Know You're in San Francisco When....

1. You realize that everyone who lives in this city is missing a piece of their brain
2. No one knows the basics of how to drive a motorized vehicle...a major one being a four-way stop.
3. You realize you're being a much more aggresive driver, because if you weren't you wouldn't get anywhere, since noone in CA knows how to drive their car.
4. No one has a real yard.
5. You see someone mowing their 2 1/2 by 5 strip of grass (they call this a yard) with a lawn mower....and all it takes is one push and they're done (not kidding...I've seen it)....and then you wonder why they don't just grab some kitchen scissors in order to groom their "lawn."
6. You can't find a parking space ANYWHERE no matter how hard you try, so you slip into despair because you know you'll be driving in circles for the next half hour until someone decides to get into their car and leave.
7. The priest at your parish decides to give a pro-gay homily that makes you want to projectile vomit across the pews.
8. The sacristan makes an announcement that the priest is late, and he wants us to "start Mass without him"....WHAAAAAT?
9. You already have plans to be out of town the weekend of the Gay pride parade....yeah, the one that's NEXT year
10. You're minding your own business walking downtown, and suddenly realize that a bunch of naked people are running a marathon right by you....but you're surprisingly not phased, because...it's San Francisco
11. You realize that when people talk about the "Tenderloin" they're not talking about a piece of delicious steak, but the most murderous part of town
12. No one smiles at you on the bus....in fact, no one even looks at you....
13. You realize after living in the city for three weeks, that you have seen little or no children, but you have seen plenty of dogs
14. Everyone who has a dog is too grossed out to actually pick up their dog's slobbery tennis ball, so they all own these dog "spoons" to get grab it out of their disease infested mouths
15. There are more dog parks than playgrounds
16. You wake up everyday and you already know what the weather is going to be like....foggy and cold
17. You walk outside in the middle of July in your heaviest winter coat
18. You wake up depressed, because you realize that you haven't seen the sun for 4 months
19. Every guy you meet is either gay or a total pothead...
20. Every girl you meet is either a lesbian or crazy nazi feminist
21. Going to the beach does not consist of swimming, because it's too dang cold
22. Every piece of produce you buy is DELICIOUS
23. Almost every restaurant is AMAZING
24. Food just tastes better and is amazingly better for you
25. Everyone jogs
26. Almost every person you see or meet is Asian
27. The bus announcements are not just in English and Spanish, but English, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Russian....
28. You ride the bus and not a single person speaks English...including the driver...and you wonder if you're still in America
29. Pedestrians are the bane of your existence when you're driving....and drivers are the bane of your existence when you're a pedestrian
30. You're approached by someone from Green Peace or Save the Whales at least every other day.
31. There are no laws as to what color/colors your house can be painted
32. The entire city thinks a hurricane is coming if they hear one measely peel of Thunder...and the news makes it sound like the entire city is under water
33. You learn that they are using RECYCLED cement for the "new" part of the Bay Bridge, but they have figured out that it won't be strong enough to hold all the cars during heavy traffic....awesome
34. Bridge tolls are $4-$5 on the Bay Bridge, $7 during rush hour, and the Golden Gate bridge is $6....what the b**********p?
35. Public transit is completely unreliable....so to make it better, the city made cuts on certain bus routes...yeah, that was helpful
36. The buses are token "clean energy" vehicles
37. Everyone and their mom owns a Prius
39. Gas costs you your first born child....and the second born
40. Wal-Mart and Target are illegal within city limits....really? Yes.


There's soooo much more....and I'll add more as I think of them.

A snippetty snippett...

My readers will have to forgive me, because my book is still in the "extremely rough" stage. Also, please keep in my mind, that this is only a snippett...so events may be slightly unclear.

Start of a new chapter (the thoughts of Lori Russell, age 14)
September 3, 1993
I'm beginning high school. I never thought I would make it this far. Who am I? What am I? What am I to become? It's so large compared to our little Green Meadows Elementary. Karen is, as expected, very excited. She's so boy crazy...geez. Well, the boys don't interest me. I have too much studying to do, and if I want to be a lawyer, will I have time to be a wife and mother? Besides, I don't think I want to get married. Maybe if mom were still here...maybe I would want to. No, my mission has now...no, to call it a mission sounds too...charitable. My DESTINY is to overthrow the rule of the Kensington family. Gross, destiny sounds romantic. Ah...yes...this is my REVOLUTION. "I want to be change, change for the truth, the better good, the people." -to use Daniel Kensington's own words. He is change not for truth, but for falsehood! Maura's father has become insufferable. He has ruined so many families with his dirty schemes. And now...he wants to run for state governor? What is to become of our town...our state? Is there no justice? I seem to be the only person my age who sees this, except for Karen, and maybe the infamous Ty Waters, whose family has been bankrupt by the Kensingtons. Everyone else thinks Mr. Kensington is just dandy! They have been so blinded by his superb acting skills. I have seen him for what he really is...And I cannot tell anyone, not even Karen. No, I must not even write it. It is too terrible a truth...for now it must continue to haunt my dreams, along with the lady in the strange veil and robes. Mom would have known what to do...

September 5, 1993
Although I may hate Maura Kensington, I cannot help but pity her. I walked by Kensington Manor today and heard screams. I rushed by, wishing not to see more than I already have. Oh God, if there is one, what do I do? I cannot hide in the shadows forever.

***

The day had been a bleak one. Foggy, rainy-but not the good kind of rain, the kind of rain that only spits, frizzes one's hair, and makes you feel like a dirty wet dog all day. Lori was tired...she had had another dream about the lady again.

"Lori, would you please answer my question?" Mr. Slater had called on her. Oh Christ, what were we learning? Lori thought frantically coming out of her doze. "Geometry, please, Ms. Russell...not daydreams." Mr. Slater reprimanded.

Ty Waters and his chronies sniggered behind Lori. She didn't care about Ty, she was used to it by now, but offending Mr. Slater was the last thing she wanted to do. Shamed, she sat up straight and bent over her notes trying to concentrate.

After class, she apologized to Mr. Slater and he had been understanding...even worried. "Lori, I've noticed you looking very tired all the time. Maybe less studying and more sleeping?" "Right," she said, "more sleeping." If only I could sleep, she thought. Would Mr. Slater understand a mysterious woman visiting her dreams? No, it was best not to let on you were crazy, especially in a small town.

She walked out of the classroom, thankful it was Friday, and bumped into Ty in the hallway. "Excuse me, Ms. Daydream...I mean Ms. Russell," Tyler tipped an invisible hat. "Ugh...very funny Ty," Lori grunted, bending to pick up her books. "Very original, really." Tyler bent to help her. "Here you go, Ms. Daydream," Ty said, slipping the last book into Lori's already full arms. "Yeah, whatever, thanks Ty," Lori said disgruntled. Tyler walked away laughing.

Lori rolled her eyes at Tyler's back and turned down the hall toward Literature class. They had been reading Anthem. It was an interesting read and Lori, of course, had finished it before everyone. But there had been something wrong with the ideas in the book. Was it really all about individualism? Lori had wondered. She had voiced her skepticism in class one day only to be met with stares from her classmates who clearly did not understand. The teacher, Mrs. Keating, although kind, had given Lori quite an unsatifactory answer. "Ms. Russell, I do believe you have read ahead, and we will have to address this later," Mrs. Keating had said.

When Lori had asked her father about it later, he had asked to see the book. Mr. Russell flipped through the last few pages of the book and dismissed it as a "horrible philosophy that left no room for charity." Lori wasn't sure about charity, she thought that sounded terribly religious. But she had agreed that it was a horribel philosophy. The author was clearly off her rocker. How could a world survive with people only thinking of themselves? Their "I"?

So this was why on this particular day Lori was slightly apprehensive about Literature class. Lori hated disagreeing with teachers, but what she hated even more was not voicing her opinion. Clearly, today's final book discussion was going to be heated.

However, it so happened that Mrs. Keating failed to see Lori Russell's hand waving frantically in the air for the entire fifty-minute class period. Thus, the dear Mrs. Keating had succeeded in convincing almost everyone in the classroom that the way of the "ego" was the best path through life. Lori, determined to right this serious miscarriage of justice, decided to "have words" with Mrs. Keating after class.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Keating," Lori began politely, "but I do want to tell you that I strongly disagree with your opinion on the book."
"Opinion?" Mrs. Keating said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, opinion."
"My dear Ms. Russell, I understand that you are a highly gifted child, but perhaps this time you have allowed your pride to blind your intelligence."
"I'm sorry?" Lori replied, highly confused.
"You see, Lori. May I call you Lori? What I taught today was not my 'opinion.' It is a philosophy which everyone must strive to live. There is no absolute right or wrong. Our conscience must be shaped by our "I." Who are we to judge if what someone does is right or wrong?"
"Mrs. Keating, how can you--"
"Lori, I know this is difficult to understand for someone your age, but the Board of Education has sent me and several other teachers now residing in nearby towns to help correct your smalltown upbringing. The modern world is moving on from these so-called 'Christian morals' and you must learn to move on too."
"But, Mrs. Keating, I--"
"Lori, dear, I know how much you enjoy questioning and discussing, but you must not do so much of that in my class. You might put ideas that are contrary to the New Age into your fellow classmates' heads hmmm?"
Lori stared at Mrs. Keating in shock. A teacher encouraging her not to ask questions? Lori frowned. Maybe Mrs. Keating had won this battle, but the semester had only begun.
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Keating," Lori finally said. "Of course," Mrs. Keating replied cordially, and she picked up a book and began to read indicating that Lori was free to leave. Lori left, but not before noticing what Mrs. Keating was reading...Starhawk.

I Couldn't Help But Notice

This is a short little diddy I wrote for my own amusement, and, as usual, it turned into something waaay too deep. Nonetheless, Enjoy!

Oh, P.S. if I get more than 10 comments on this story, I'll post a snippett of my book this weekend.

I couldn't help but notice that your eyes bore right into mine. That was my first clue that you were more than you appeared. "My name is Clark," I said, not really expecting you to answer or even care. But you looked up at me, eyes shining, smile radiant. "I'm Emily," you said. I couldn't help but notice that you blushed when I shook your hand. My heart leapt with hope.

We talked for hours at that party. Was it a party? I hardly remember other people there. I walked you to your car, utterly fascinated by the way your hands moved and your eyebrows rose whenever you talked about something important to you. I didn't want you to stop talking, but you had a curfew. As you drove away, I realized I didn't get your number. What chance would I have with you anyway? Well, you held me spellbound, and I simply had to find you.

I found you. You were walking hand in hand with another man. Oh how I wished I was he! You were talking together, but I could tell you were unhappy, because your hands were still and you didn't smile. As I drew closer I couldn't help but notice the way your face reddened as you saw me and let go of his hand. The boy was not happy about my unexpected presence there. You didn't seem to mind at all. Eventually, you left, out of pity for the boy, but not before you said, "It's Emily. Emily Dunham." Emily Dunham. My salvation. You handed me a small slip of paper, unnoticed by your escort. I hope that poor unlucky lad will forgive me one day. I watched you walk away. The boy tried to hold your hand again, but you didn't let him. I couldn't help but notice.

Our first date, I had respectfully asked your father's permission, because you deserved it. A picnic. A little cliché, I'll admit it, but I wanted to see you in the sunlight, not in the dark of a movie theatre. You wore a sky blue sun dress, and your hair was pulled back to stay out of your eyes, and it fell down your back and shoulders. There were small pearl earrings in your ears, and your feet were bare except for some white flip-flops. You were perfect, and I told you so. Your cheeks glowed the way I love. I couldn't help but notice.

You let me do most of the talking this time, and I couldn't help but notice that I was completely comfortable. I stopped talking. I was talking too much. "No," you said, taking my hand, "Please tell me more." So I did, but I couldn't help but notice how your hand fit perfectly in mine, and the way your hair smelled as the breeze gently blew it off your shoulders.

I brought you home, wishing, hoping, it wouldn't end. I put my hand gently on your cheek. I couldn't help but notice how soft and warm it felt. You looked right into my eyes, and I felt completely vulnerable, like the first day I met you. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure you'd hear it. I leaned in, kissed you softly, and said one word, "Emily." You looked at me as you slowly closed the door, and when you could not hear I said, "I love you."

We were in love. It's true. Why you would love me was still impossible to discern. But you did. We were back at the park where you first took my hand. Underneath a magnificent oak, your face was so full of love, it made my heart near to bursting. I knelt on one knee, praying to God that you would have me. I barely choked out the words that would make you mine forever. Before I knew it, your arms were around my neck, and your lips were on my head, my face, my hands, my lips... Finally...could my heart handle the joy I beheld in your face? Could it be true? "Yes," you said. And my life was changed forever.

There were moments I thought I couldn't possibly love you more. But everyday my heart would swell larger and larger--I loved you so much, it hurt. But I didn't mind the pain. I no longer mattered, there was only you. The days until our wedding could not have come any slower, but I simply enjoyed the anticipation. Nothing could possibly make me unhappy.

Our wedding day finally came. God must love me so much. As you walked down that aisle, there was not a fiber of doubt in my body that you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I would love you until the day I died. I could see us growing old together, and there was no fear. Now I understood. Now, in this moment, I grasped Love Eternal.

Our baby girl! She gasped and screamed, her tiny chest heaving, as I held her for the first time. Her little fists were clenched, and she had your eyes and mouth. I stared at her in absolute wonder. A new life in my hands--so delicate and beautiful. And...she was ours. Our love created her. Could there be anything more miraculous? I gently placed her in your arms. I couldn't help but notice that your face was white from pain and exhaustion, but you had the most joyful glow in your eyes. Our daughter immediately stopped crying as you held her. She opened her fist and curled it around your finger and began to nurse. You looked up at me and smiled. I slowly slid into the hospital bed next to you. You fell asleep on my shoulder while stroked Therese's soft head.

25 years, and I still love you as much and infinitely more as on the day I met you. Our anniversary isn't fancy, just a typical dinner with the kids, and I love every minute of it. Joey, as always, makes everyone laugh with his ridiculous 10-year-old humor. Therese is blossoming into a beautiful young woman--she has your spirit. Kevin is making faces at Mary, and you're helping Thomas cut his meat. When everyone is finished, you bring out our "anniversary cake." The kids helped decorate it, and it looks more like a 5-year-old's finger painting than a decadent dessert. Nonetheless, we eat and enjoy with only minor icing casualties--Mary somehow got icing in her ear, and Kevin is looking at you with his best innocent face. You simply shake your head and scold Kevin as you clean out Mary's ear. You finally look up at me and mouth "Happy Anniversary." I get up and kiss you, despite the "Dad!"'s and "Ew, gross!"

I'm walking our trembling daughter down the aisle. Wasn't it just yesterday that I held her tiny body in my arms and rocked her to sleep? As I look at her husband to be, I can't help wondering if he feels the same about her as I do about you. I hope so. He is a good man. Therese deserves nobody less. She kisses my cheek and steps up to the Altar. She is no longer mine. A single tear runs down my face. If I did not have your hand to hold, I would feel like a lesser man.

The kids are all gone. Thomas just left for college and it's just you and me again. We hold hands as we take a turn around our empty home. You look at me sadly, and I hold you tight while you cry. "You have given five new people to the world," I said, "You should be proud." "No," you replied, "We have brought five beautiful children into the world, and stayed together. We should be proud." We went to the park and fell asleep under our tree.

My time has come. We have had 75 beautiful years together. I wish we could have more, but He is calling me home. You hold my hand and stroke my face. The soft "bleep, bleep" of my heart on the monitor is barely audible. "Clark," you say, "I love you." "I love you too, darling. I'll be waiting." Some time slips by. It's become more difficult for me to stay. Finally, my soul is free. I have been anointed. I am leaving you now. I pray that our two souls may become one in Paradise.

For the Love of My Life

As my faithful followers will notice, I changed the title of my blog...it was inspired by my good friends Karen and Monty, and, I think, it captures more of the essence of me.

I haven't been writing lately, because I simply haven't had time, and I haven't felt inspired. I don't feel particularly inspired today either, except that I noticed I've been a slacker, and I should probably write something. So, I'm going to write about...MYSELF.

It's a bit of a selfish topic, but it's what I've been learning the most about lately. I have had an amazing summer, filled with reunions, laughs, epic failures, many many "Meryl Moments", and just a few frustrations. I've done everything from sitting on my bed doing absolutely nothing, going to weddings, shooting NERF guns in downtown San Francisco, laughing until it hurts, drinking to the point of hilarity, to finally sitting here writing the most boring blog ever known to man.

I've learned to appreciate friendships, parents, my faith, and surprisingly, my job. But most of all....I have learned to appreciate good music. I'm actually going through a huge classical phase at the moment. All of this sounds good, right? Right. Except I am missing one very important thing...a husband...someone to grow old with, raise children with, and....::heavy sigh::. Which is why I have decided to make a list of the top ten requirements for my ideal husband....let me know if you're interested.

1. You must sleep in every day, and never get a job.

2. You must have at least ten tattoos, and five body piercings...otherwise, my Dad WILL NOT approve.

3. You must enjoy heavy metal music and blast it at odd hours of the night, so that the neighbors have to call the cops....we have to keep our life exciting you know?

4. You must scream at our 2.5 children every day so that they learn to hate us, because duh....they just wouldn't grow up to be normal, if we were nice to them.

5. You must NEVER shower...mmmmm...I just love that cornchip smell.

6. Oh yes, religion, Athiest is preferable, but Agnostic will suffice. We need opposite opinions in our household to keep everything PC for our kids.

7. You must treat my like dung on the heel of your shoe, because I just DON'T want to get jealous and clingy. Treating me like crap will help me keep my distance.

8. You must have SUPER annoying parents that make me want to kill myself...it just wouldn't be right if I liked them.

9. Go out and get drunk with your old garage band buddies every night. This is just so I KNOW that you've been out getting drunk, and I don't have to ask. It will save a lot of time and frustration.

10. If you MUST show me affection, do it in the most embarrassing way possible...like calling me a really disgusting name like "my gooey googley honey muffin cake" and then flatulate really loudly. This will make me extremely happy and keep our marriage in tip top shape.

***Bonus (not required, but it will give you extra brownie points) if you have a super awesome name like Billy-Joe Bob, or Pookey, or Hal, or Butch....and even more brownie points if you have a beer belly!

These are just some of the requirements for a young Catholic girl's future husband, but they ARE the most important. I honestly just can't think of anyone dreamier than that person I've just described.

I've included a picture, just as an example:

The Tear

This a short story I wrote my Senior year of high school. It's a little melodramatic, but I like it :) and I hope you do too!

Lily gazed across the clear blue sea that she had known for so long, her dark hair sailing in the wind. The ocean had been her only true friend. It would always calm her whenever she dared caress its course skin of sand with her feet. Lily could speak to the ocean without speaking, and it would always understand. It would always soothe her with its haunting chant. She would sometimes let it carry her far away so they could contemplate together even more privately. Other times Lily would simply let the ocean massage her tan skin as it lapped gently up and down her body. The ocean was the one thing Lily truly loved and the only thing that truly loved her back. The ocean would never complain, whine, or reject her.

A cold hand suddenly touched Lily’s shoulder and rudely awakened her from her meditation of solitude. Lily did not react or turn her head. “Lily,” her mother said, quietly. Lily did not move. “Lily, it’s time to go now,” her mother said more loudly. Lily didn’t budge. Her mother sighed. “Lily, I know this is hard, but we really need to leave now,” she said again. Lily slowly tilted her head to one side, still looking straight ahead, to indicate she had heard. She heard her mother’s feet stride easily away through the sand.

Then, she heard a crunch of a shell and felt another presence behind her. This time she turned around. “Hi,” she said unemotionally to her childhood friend, Bobby. Bobby sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. Bobby looked into Lily’s face and dark brown eyes. All the sadness in the world resided in those eyes. Lily turned away. She couldn’t bear to look at Bobby like that, especially at a time like this. Bobby admired the ocean, their home, with Lily a few minutes before speaking. “New York can’t be that bad. I mean, you’ll meet a lot of cool city kids and get to see some of the tallest buildings in the world. Of course, the other kids won’t be as cool as me, but what can I say?” Bobby chided. Lily scoffed and nudged Bobby in the ribs. “Ow! How can you hurt me like that?” Bobby said sarcastically. “I’m gonna miss her,” Lily choked. “Yeah, we had some great times on that boat of ours didn’t we?” Bobby replied quietly. “Remember how long it took us to build her?” Bobby asked. “Mmhm. I remember. Three months, two weeks, one day, four hours, and 32 minutes,” Lily said chuckling. “I still can’t believe you timed us,” Bobby smiled.

Lily had always liked Bobby’s smile. He had the most perfect teeth, and they went great with his green eyes. His eyes always reminded Lily of the ocean after that big hurricane when they were both three. So deep a green, it was the most beautiful thing Lily thought she had ever seen or would ever see. His hair was bleached by the sun, and his face was always a little pink from forgetting to put on more sunscreen after surfing for five hours. Yes, she always thought, he has to be related to the mermaids. Now as she looked at him, she was absolutely positive he had mermaid blood coursing through his veins. Little Mermaid had always been her and Bobby’s favorite movie. She had always wanted to be Ariel, but knew she looked more like Prince Eric. Yes, she was definitely human, and Bobby was definitely merman material.

“It’s just not fair,” she said. “I know,” Bobby replied. Lily laughed, glad that Bobby could not read her thoughts. “What?” Bobby asked confused. “Nothing that concerns you,” Lily said grinning. Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes and took his arm from around her. Lily shot back once again to reality; this was the end. This wasn’t just another day on the beach with Bobby; this was goodbye. “I can’t do it, Bobby,” Lily whispered. “I can’t leave here. Everything I knew and grew up with is here. This is my heart and soul right here, Bobby,” Lily said trying desperately to restrain her tears. “I can’t…” Lily trailed off. Bobby looked at her. “I can’t leave you,” Lily blurted. Bobby looked at the ground and said something Lily would never forget, “Take The Tear with you...and never forget me.” “No, Bobby, I couldn’t do that to you,” she said finding it harder to stop the tears from flowing. “Where could I sail her? Where could I set her free?” she asked desperately. “You’ll be in Manhattan, you know. She’ll be able to see Lady Liberty,” Bobby replied.

The Tear, the one drop that remained afloat in the millions of tears of the ocean. Lily and Bobby had been pretty darn proud of themselves inventing that name for their creation, their pride, their joy. Many times it had safely and faithfully carried them to their secret isle about four miles off the coast. She had held together rather nicely and sailed faster than Bobby and Lily had thought she would. “Wow, we’re actually going two knots with this thing,” Lily had said stopping the measuring rope with her fingers after Bobby hit the stopwatch. “It’s because I’m manning the sails,” Bobby had said jokingly. The Tear was…home.

“No, Bobby,” Lily said, “You need her as much as I do.” Bobby remained silent. Lily knew he wouldn’t keep her. She heard the start of her family van somewhere behind her and the clunking of the pick up truck as it connected with The Tear. Lily realized Bobby had already made the decision a long time ago to let the ship go. Lily looked into Bobby’s face, a single tear running down her cheek. “Please don’t do that,” Bobby whispered. He reached up to wipe the tear from her face, but the tear ran quickly down her skin and into his open palm. Lily gasped mournfully and Bobby looked at his hand. Lilly got up and walked briskly away, leaving Bobby and the ocean behind her. Bobby got up and watched her figure walk determinedly away, his hand still wet with her tear.

Love

Love's painful sting envelopes me
   whole and entire
But there is no one there
   No, not even Thee
They say absence makes the heart
   grow fonder.
But they forget to mention
   the pain and torture
When? When whilst thou come
   to ease this bleeding wound?
I cannot but hope that your
   answer is soon . . . soon.
Save me! Save me from this Cross
   that kills!
The yoke is too heavy and my
   heart has cracked.
The dove's woeful cooing
   shrills!
And over my heart scabbed is
   blacked.
Then comes Your Holy Mother
   in Mercy shrined.
And with arms outstretched
   her brightness blind.
She takes my heart and
   makes it whole.
And with her love
   She makes me Thine.
Oh! Thou Blessed Mother
   Take me to He!
For I am heavy burdened
   and sickly grieved.
She smiles joyfully with
   sad eyes teared.
And points to her heart
   where Thine sword pierced.
Again my heart fails and
   I fall toward the dark.
But She catches me before
   all hope is lost.
I cannot! I am nothing.
   I am unable to pay the cost.
My Lord and my God
   Why hast Thou forsaken me?
She pulls me up a ragged hill
   and there I see
You have already carried my Cross
   and for that
They hung You on a Tree.