T-12 hours: Palm Sunday

In the last 24 hours, I went to Palm Sunday mass, picked up my mom from the airport, wrote a paper, played in my last hockey game (and got a penalty), judged 4 people in the open, visited my girl Laurie at Snap Kitchen, went grocery shopping and came back home. I am beat. 

I just pray that I made myself tired enough to get a few hours of sleep before I'm up at 4 to take a super antibacterial shower and head in for my 515 checkin. 

Palm Sunday mass gave me super intense feels. On this day in 2009, I told my grandmother that I was back going to mass. She told me that she was so pleased because she knew that the mass brought her such joy. 

That was the last time I talked to her. She died suddenly of a heart attack a few days after Easter. 

Now that I've come home to the Church, I see Holy Week as an opportunity to enter into the suffering, death and ressurection of Christ. 

Well, to be honest, it sneaks up on me. There's something about this week that penetrates through all the pain and noise that saturates our lives and makes it so clear that His sacrifice matters because you matter to Him.  

In the gospel this week, when we read the words of the chorus doubting, mocking and condemning Jesus to death, I felt the weight of the sins of my past conduct. I distinctly remembered how much I turned away from Jesus when I lived my life on my own terms. 

In a way, by getting surgery on Monday of Holy Week, I am receiving an amazing opportunity to enter into great redemptive suffering to atone for my sins, and the sins of the whole world. 

I hope I get to participate in the Triduum, but if I can't sit through the liturgy then I know that I can offer up my pain, weakness and dependence on others to unite with Him as we remember what He did for us. 

Please pray for me. My surgery is scheduled for 815 am central time tomorrow. I'll keep you posted. 

T-3 days: Dallas vs The World

Today was the close of the open, and it was an amazing day.

I started off with Spiritual Direction with my awesome Spiritual Director.  He heard my confession and we talked about school and how I was prepared spiritually for my surgery.  Since I have gotten hooked up with my current surgeon, I am a lot more at easy with what is coming and I have learned to trust that God is with me in this journey and that He really does have my best interests in mind.  I had some REAL prayer time with him this month.  Like the "I am scared crapless and I don't see how this is going to work out.... please let me trust you".

It's going to be tough, but it's going to work out.  The Lord has thrown me consolation by the boatload to affirm His plans in me.  

 

I then headed down to CrossFit Big D to finish the Open.  15.5 was a total gut check... especially with the crazy antibiotics I've had this week and the lack of supplement game.  I finished in 14:46, but it was PAINFUL.  I was happy to be done with it, but I was kind of sad that it was the last time I will be touching a barbell in a WOD for a few months.

I hung out with Laurie in the afternoon and we headed back for Big D hosting "Dallas vs. The World".  I got to judge about 9 people over the course of the night and it was crazy intense.  

What really made me happy was that afterwards we had a little after party.  I was really reminded about how amazing our community is.  Everyone is in their 20s to 40s, but it felt like I was back in college just relaxing without a care in the world... and even though I am not anywhere near the fittest person in my gym I know that I am a formidable force in playing Knockout basketball and flip cup.  

Less than 60 hours with two arms... better make the best use of them.  

T-5 Days: Ointment in the nose

Today, I was supposed to work at the rink driving a Zamboni.  But, they emailed me at the last minute to cancel so boom, I had a whole large unstructured day ahead of me.

...with a project due the next day, that is the worst thing for me.  Ever.

I thrive under pressure.  I do my best work and have the greatest inspiration when I have a deadline and I need to push it.  My undergraduate side academically was flipping easy because I had no free time between ROTC and hockey.  So, I would do my homework in between classes and start my papers weeks in advance.

Being a part-time grad student with part-time work... not working so great.  Note to self: next year enroll full-time and play a Division III sport... that'll make it easier.

Anyways, I did just get my PowerPoint done, which totally justifies my blogging right now instead of doing schoolwork.

I started my day off at my CrossFit gym again.  It was a brutal metcon with Calories rowing, box jumps and thrusters... which I had to scale to front squats given that I lack a complete shoulder socket for the next few days.  I have been on these mega antibiotics for a couple days and they have basically sucked the life out of me.  Between that and not taking my supplements, I have been tired, dehydrated and it's been hard to fall asleep.  I held myself back quite a bit but I managed to do pretty well on the WOD.

Afterwards I went for my max power clean and toes to bar.  After nine months of having Chase and Laurie on my case, my power clean max and my squat clean max are the same at 155 pounds (as opposed to a 30 pound difference in the direction of the power clean).  At the end, I did 20 toes to bar in a row (one over my old max) just because.

I got to pick up my latest and greatest pre-surgery prescription today: antibiotic ointment that gets stuffed into each of my nostrils twice daily.  Goes really nicely with my stuffed up nose from the Texas allergies to begin with.  It isn't enjoyable at all.... and I am kicking myself for telling my doctors that I had cellulitis (which apparently is MRSA and will kill me) when I was in the Marines.

I did make it to Mass for the feast of the Annunciation.  I have been really dragging on Daily Mass lately.  What amazes me so much about God is that no matter how much I stray, I can come back to Mass and I just know that I belong there.

Receiving the Eucharist today, I was able to experience a bit of what Mary did with the Incarnation: by saying yes, He lives in me.

I live for those moments and insights.

Thinking about next week and what my life will be like then has me thinking about a lot.  My family will be here and they are not Catholic at all. I am grateful that they will be here, but it's going to be weird to experience Holy Week with them here; chances are it will be tough to sit through the Triduum as it is, let alone recovering from a surgery 4 days previously.

Instead, I will have to experience it in the physical suffering and humility that will come from being dependent on others.  I got the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick for a reason.  I can think of no greater honor during the week where we commemorate the Passion and Resurrection of our Lord than to carry my Cross with Jesus.

...the fullness of the Liturgy is beautiful... but only if it fuels living out the Faith.

T-6 Days: Celebratory Tacos

Today was a good day.

At CrossFit, we were working on Clean techniques as well as work overhead.  Programming called for 5 heavy jerks, but given that I am pretty much missing the front of my shoulder socket, I asked if I could work on my strict overhead press.  My Coach Chase though that was a great idea.

I had not done a single strict press since I moved to Texas.  My last max was 37.5 kilos, or about 83 pounds.  For fun and grins, I decided to throw up 85 on there.  It was EASY. 95, felt good.  105 wouldn't move.  So, I went with 100.  Boom.

My friend and Coach Laurie said that the most important question was how I was going to celebrate... more on that later.

I had a great lunch meeting with a parishioner from the parish I am researching for school.  It was a fantastic meeting.  I'm not sure if it actually led to anything that helps me get my parish portrait done faster, but I loved being present with someone just talking about the awesomeness of the Church and what potential and possibilities existed for them if they continued to follow a life with Christ.

I umpired a double-header of softball all the way out pretty much half-way to Tyler. It was awesome. Great ball and I finally felt like I have gotten the hang of it... just in time for me to get cut open and be out of it for at least two months.  

...but, PRing my old max by 17 pounds warranted celebratory tacos and a margarita.  So Velvet Taco happened.  

God is so good to me...

T-7 Days. I meet Jerome

On my way home from class tonight, I saw a man walking along the side of the road near where I live.  It was obvious that he was living on the street; despite the temperatures in the 70s, he was wearing a full coat and looked like he had not shaved or showered in weeks.  He carried a backpack and had an entire container of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Up to this point, I had wondered if I had done "enough" for Lent this year.  I promised myself that I would fast from any number of things; Facebook and Netflix being possibilities that I had chickened out of with my upcoming surgery.  I told myself that I would pray more, that I would go to adoration (because lately quiet times with God have seemed overwhelmingly frightening) or that I would go to more Daily Mass (I've actually gone to less).  With Holy Week quickly approaching with my surgery date, I was feeling like a pretty terrible Catholic and a poor example for aspiring leaders in the Church.

The only thing that I had succeeded in doing was keeping non-perishable food and water in my car to hand out to people on the street that I encountered.  Previously, I had been not so much of a "social justice" Catholic in the sense that I viewed such movements within the Church with suspicion.  It seemed that those who I had encountered in the movements previously did not adhere to the fullness of Catholic teaching and looked down on those of us who did as not doing enough.  Even worse, my background in training in the Military and Police had me looking at the people that went to the Church in a way that they were a threat instead of my brothers and sisters in Christ.  My heart was incredibly hardened to them.  It is only by the grace of God and allowing the Holy Spirit to take over my life that my fear has been cast out and I was willing to try something.

Since moving to Dallas in June, I have seen so many people on the streets and I was moved to do something about it.  With the winter getting so nasty with the snow and ice, I had actually seen very few. The few other times that I was able to hand something out quickly from my car, I felt totally helpless that I was only giving them a light snack to get through the next couple of hours: when I was headed home to a warm bed and a fridge full of food for myself.

This time, I pulled ahead into a parking lot, stopped, said a quick prayer and got out with food and water in hand,  ready to meet my new brother.  He was incredibly gracious and introduced himself as Jerome.  He picked up that I was a student and asked what I was studying.  When I told him that I was getting my Masters in Church Management.  Almost immediately, he started apologizing for his state in life and that he was going to start some gyms in the area as soon as he found office space.  He even gave me a number for his receptionist that would be working in one of the new office buildings that he was "scouting".  He also spoke of bacteria being planted by terrorists in 2005 to frame us all and that we pass it back and forth as they mock us.  He also started spouting off about his study of Theology and his personal interpretation of scripture.  It was clear to me that he was having paranoid delusions.

The old me would have completely discounted everything that he had to say beyond that point or would try to correct his view on reality.  The new me instead looked for common ground.  Instead of shutting down, I was able to listen. After asking a couple of gentle questions, I realized that the "terrorists" were people that were hostile to him on the street and he had good reason to view others with suspicion.  I heard the Truth of the Gospel written on his heart that the bible was full of different translations and that God has given us the free choice to chose life or sin for ourselves.  I was able to affirm what he had correct, but also speak of the Lord's Mercy because He has great justice.  That forgiveness is a gift extended to us and that by showing mercy, I turn over the wrong of sin committed against me back to God for Him to exact justice.  We exchanged goodbyes and as quickly as it started, it was over.

I don't really know how much I helped Jerome tonight with handing him some Pop Tarts and a breakfast shake.  I didn't solve his homelessness.  I didn't get him to someone who could get him on medication to bring him back to the "real world".  I know that I won't be attending his boxing gym, whenever he gets it up and running.

Jerome didn't need me to "save" him from the cross he was carrying, but rather to let him know that I saw him as equal in dignity to me.

I do know that he helped me realize that no matter how far off our brothers and sisters are, that there is always common ground in our humanity.  Winning an argument or being "right" doesn't necessarily win anything for God.  Where Jesus gets the win is when you realize that He is right in the person in front of you.

Lent really isn't about how "well" any of us do it.  It is about entering into the desert with Jesus and tested and purified through trial and doing things out of our comfort zone.  Holiness comes from making the completely radical to the completely ordinary flow of our daily living.

Unlike my previous attempts to fast from cursing, I am sure that this Lenten practice is going to stay with me far into the Easter season and maybe the rest of my life.

T-8 Days

So, I'm getting surgery a week from Monday.  After beating up my body in the Marines, hockey, CrossFit and all other kinds of crazy stuff, my shoulder has finally decided that it has had enough and that it's time to get fixed.  Exact procedure is called a Latarjet transfer.  Basically, it's an arthroscopic procedure where the doctor is going to rearrange some bone tissue to replace some bone loss in my socket.. as well as repair all the broken ligaments that have quit on me.  As painful as this sounds, I am excited for my shoulder to return to its rightful place in its socket...

I am going to start blogging again to remind myself of my progress and the love that God has for me. I was pretty frustrated with the idea of another surgery, especially after my Achilles repair in 2012. But, unlike last time, I understand that there is a beauty of healing, and in pain.  In being vulnerable and in need of healing, we can see God work through others in their very best.  I know I will see it in my family:  both my blood coming to Dallas to help me out and my family at CrossFit Big D and my parish.

I am going to be stronger than ever in this because He is greatest when I am weakest.  Lord knows that I am going to be plenty weak for plenty of time.

God is Love

John 19:1-11

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him scourged.
And the soldiers wove a crown out of thorns and placed it on his head, 
and clothed him in a purple cloak, 
and they came to him and said,
“Hail, King of the Jews!”
And they struck him repeatedly.
Once more Pilate went out and said to them, 
“Look, I am bringing him out to you, 
so that you may know that I find no guilt in him.”
So Jesus came out, 
wearing the crown of thorns and the purple cloak.
And he said to them, “Behold, the man!”
When the chief priests and the guards saw him they cried out, 
“Crucify him, crucify him!”
Pilate said to them,
“Take him yourselves and crucify him.
I find no guilt in him.”
The Jews answered, 
“We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die, 
because he made himself the Son of God.”
Now when Pilate heard this statement,
he became even more afraid, 
and went back into the praetorium and said to Jesus, 
“Where are you from?”
Jesus did not answer him.
So Pilate said to him,
“Do you not speak to me?
Do you not know that I have power to release you 
and I have power to crucify you?”
Jesus answered him,
“You would have no power over me 
if it had not been given to you from above.
For this reason the one who handed me over to you
has the greater sin.”

Today is Good Friday.  Today is the day where our Lord and Savior, an innocent man, takes on the condemned.  He is reduced to the lowest of the low.  A condemned man.  Each scourge, each step, each fall, every drop of blood is poured out for you.  No matter what you do. No matter how far you have fallen, He has cried out for you.  He has asked His Father to forgive you.  He has shown His mercy.  He reminds us that if you are hated, the world has hated Him first.

This week, with the Supreme Court hearing cases on Proposition 8 and the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), my Facebook page has blown up with a sea of red equal signs with the hashtag #loveislove.  Most of my family, friends and people that I love and interact with daily showed their support for redefining marriage.  They condemned those who did not agree with them.  They called them bigots and said that the Church had no right to impose their views on others.  That those who opposed gay marriage hated gay people.  That these people must be illogical.  Who were they to deny basic rights to two people that loved each other?  They congratulated each other for having "smart" friends.  That those who agreed with them were on "the right side of history".  

For my straight friends who were the most outspoken, what I heard and saw was that I had to be stupid for having convictions against theirs.  That I hated them for believing something different.  That to them, I was accursed and bigoted for being Christian.  How dare I be different from them.

For my gay friends who I love most dearly, this broke my heart.  I mourned for my friends from playing hockey who had come out as gay.  My heart tore for the people in college who I had lived with and were my refuge when I was having a terrible time with ROTC, school and traveling for hockey; who had accepted me and gotten me through some of the hardest years of my life.  It killed me to think about my closest friends in Jacksonville who had accepted me into their home for many barbecues despite knowing that I was devoutly Catholic and that I may not agree with their lifestyle.  I thought about my mentors in Seattle through my gym and elsewhere who had welcomed me with open arms and had treated me like a little sister.  My friends who are gay and lesbian have been the greatest examples of Christian Charity I have ever encountered in my life.  I thank God for them and love them as my sisters and brothers.  I would do anything for them.

I was torn.  Since I have reverted back to the Catholic faith three years ago, I have converted from a person who who could be described as liberal and "tolerant" of those who lived in alternative lifestyle.  I felt that I had no right to impose on choice.  I felt that it would be wrong for me to condemn others for not living their lives the same way.  That the Church was oppressive.  That the ultimate respect of others was to not allow them to be judged. After my Confirmation, the Lord has revealed to me that He has the greatest wisdom.  That the laws of the Church are the laws of God.  That when we do not respect them and allow others to live outside of them, the innocent suffer.  The unborn are condemned to death.  The vulnerable condemned to death and neglected.  Children are left at the whims of the choices of adults, subject to incredible emotional, spiritual and even physical harm.  Women and children are brutalized and men are completely lost and abandoned.  

Once my eyes were opened, I realized that the Sacrament of Marriage was the glue that holds together the fabric of our lives.  That holding adults to that high standard, striving to uphold it saves and protects children.  That compromising it under any circumstances excuses harmful behavior.  That allowing it to continue without protest is consent to it.  That any threat to it is something that I must speak the Truth about, even if it is unpopular.  Even if it seems hopeless and damaged due to divorce and contraception.  Even if it seems illogical.  Even if I am terrible at it and offend many people I love.  Even if some of my gay friends, people who I love and respect and have been there for me in the lowest times of my life, may think that I hate them because I cannot endorse what they want to do.

I finally did something.  Something small, but took every fiber of my being.  I had to say something.  I posted this:

Because I didn't know what else to say.

....and people that I actually consider my friends openly questioned and challenged me.  

....and I tried to respond with charity and love, trembling with fear because I respect them.  I was intimidated and I didn't know what else to do.

....and a couple of them were so disgusted with me that they unfriended me on Facebook.

....people at my gym who I care greatly about couldn't even speak to me.

....and it tore at my heart.

I wallowed in my sadness for a bit.  I even questioned what I believed.  It must be so illogical if EVERYONE around me seems to disagree with me.  Even other Catholics.  Even Catholics who understand Church teaching think that we should mind our own business.

Then I realized, since I have gotten Confirmed, I have had several friends reject me.  Even my best friends.  Even friends that had gotten me through times of trial and tribulation.  Even friends who were my closest confidants.  

They rejected me when I renounced sexual sin.  When I wouldn't joke around with them about the men that they were sleeping with.  When I wouldn't validate their new purchase of a sex toy for them to gratify themselves when they were frustrated with the opposite sex.  

They rejected me because I would not consider having sex with them.  They rejected me because I stopped compromising my body.  They made me feel bad because I would not give them what they wanted, so I was "making them suffer" by denying them my body. 

They rejected me because I did not want to go to the strip club with them.  Because I would ruin their idea of a good time.  Because I was more satisfied being alone and having a clean conscience than laughing, smiling and watching other women take their clothes off for money.

They said I was sexist and misogynistic because I acknowledged that there was a difference between men and women in the way that the Lord created them.  That I was repressive.  That I was harmful to other women that I denounced my own sex.

They challenged my belief in the Catholic Church.  They accused me of rejecting them because I was a papist.  Because I was a challenge to the way they saw the world.

They make fun of me because I won't let them curse in the name of the Lord in front of me.  Because I complete their sentences with "Jesus Christ..." "...is awesome".  That I do not let them use Saints' names in vain.

They make fun of my Church's tradition when they don't understand it.  They denounce my Pope with pictures on social media.  They openly attack my Faith, my leadership, my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Then they call me bigoted and judgmental when I challenge them on it.

They have called me illogical. They say that what I believe in is fake.  They basically call me stupid to my face.  How dare I believe in God when I have "no proof" that He exists.

Even my Catholic friends challenge me.  They say I am taking things too seriously.  That I am divisive.  That the Church will come around and that I am quaint and silly for making the Church the central focus of my life.  That I am judgmental to remind them of their obligations.  That it's OK if they profess their Faith as Catholics and receive communion, then turn around and not fulfill their other portions of obligation of going to Reconciliation and professing the Gospel.

My own family has called me intolerant.  My own family says that I am judgmental   My own family accuses me on a regular basis and thinks that I don't love them.  They ask me "so, you think I am going to Hell?".  They ask me why I can't stop talking about my religion when they were the ones who originally had me Baptized and brought me up in it.  They wonder why I cannot discuss anything else when I am employed by the Catholic Church and I all I was doing was telling them about my day and answering their questions.  They make statements in ignorance attacking my Church and then accuse me of judging them when I correct it with facts that I have learned as I am more immersed in the history, traditions and Truth of the Church.

I get called intolerant, stupid and bigoted a lot by the people I love and care about the most.  My gosh it is HARD not to take personally.  It is so HARD to remain humble and not lash out at them in anger.  I do my best to follow the Gospel and love each and every person that I encounter unconditionally.... because my Savior commanded me to do that... and He walked the walk.

Today, when I hear the Gospel.  When I venerate the Cross.  When I fast.  When I hear with my ears that Jesus was betrayed by one of the twelve in his innermost circle.  That Peter, the man who He called to lead His Church and His most outspoken friend denied Him three times when He needed Him most.  I will recall with all my being that His followers abandoned Him when He spoke the Truth.  That the end of the day, only His mother, a few women and a fourteen year old boy named John were at the foot of the Cross when He finally died for all us sinners in the world.

When I recall the Passion and how He forgave me for all the sins I have committed before.  For compromising myself to suit others.  For not speaking up when I should have defended Him.  For using His name in vain.  For selling out my soul and body because I challenged the "logic" of the Church He founded Himself.  For making fun of my Christian friends because I felt intimidated by their faith.  

Each strike of the whip on the pillar, each insult hurled at His face, each pound of the hammer on the nail driven into His hand, each step with the weight of the Cross on His back.  I did that.  I put it there.  He forgave me anyway.

I work hard to forgive my friends.  I work hard to forgive my family...  I will love them in all their lack of understanding and ignorance of the way I walk.  Because to do any less is to deny Him.  

It is the least I can do when He has done this.... for me.