After a Long Absence/ On A Path Finally Taken

These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration:--feelings too  Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world,  Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, 

~ "Lines", William Wordsworth 

 Greetings, my dear friends.

I apologize for the long absence, but in life things change, and it's entirely possible this blog has come to an end. It has been a labor of love, a labor of defiance at times, and, for long time readers, an obvious catharsis. It is perhaps because of this blog and time away in prayer and reflection that has helped to open another door in my life.

As an update, at this time I am not considering religious life, and believe that door to be closed. I fully believe Our Lord called me to deeply discern that Call, but in the end, He desired only that I say yes, and be willing, even though He has not allowed my own response to be possible. Although I am saddened in some ways, in others I realize it simply means He calls me on to other adventures, and this is glorious for God always knows where our true happiness lies. It means I continue on, the pilgrim that I am, perhaps now going into "special ops" mode in the spiritual sense of the word. By this I do not imply extreme holiness (since I have no where near achieved it), only, rather, deeper adventure, deeper mission, more covert and hidden operations in my heart and soul than can be shared with the great unknown ocean that makes up the internet world.

In this time of absence here, though, I have been working. It was as if a dam broke, and after a couple years of no interest in writing, I have, in just the last couple months, written one book and am half-way through the sequel, perhaps of a trilogy.

A couple months ago while doing some "nothing" reading, suddenly an old idea clicked in my mind and the story and characters have come to life. I have a couple dear friends who are  helping me with this project, providing support and even professional editing assistance, connecting me with resources (including people to interview) for research purposes, and even more amazingly, God has connected me with a very holy priest who also writes fiction (so far unpublished as he has not sought it yet), who has become the kind of friend every Catholic writer needs.

Just today I spoke with him about story development, and he commented on the recently deceased author Vincent Flynn (Rest in Peace) who was a faithful Catholic who lived what he believed. He noted that Flynn allowed the characters to have "free will", and this is a mark in Catholic writing. Writing is of course an art, and as Catholics, if we are faithful, if we allow God to work through us, even in works that are not religious in nature, our faith shines through.

The books I am writing are not "Catholic" in the religious sense. They are simply stories about people, they are adventure, thriller, action, and romance. They are merely human drama....yet, is there anything "mere" about the drama in the average human life? I'm not speaking here of emotional angst, but some of the deepest yearnings of the human soul, which often play out in ways that seem superficial.

As an aside....

This is why we have fiction. Our very souls are laid out nakedly in fiction; it's why we are drawn to it, identify with characters that do not exist, and engage with a story that never happened. One theologian, I believe it was Fr. Thomas Dubay, once observed that our engagement with a story in which that story comes to life in our imaginations, bringing us directly into it, is actually like a state of contemplative prayer. It is NOT the same thing, but it reveals our ability to engage all of our senses and abilities; and if we can do that with mere fiction, it also indicates we can do so even more deeply, more completely, in communion with God.  I would suggest, therefore, that reading good fiction may very well be a preparation for prayer and help us engage more deeply; that is, if we read the right things.

Moving on...

Getting back to the main point of this post, I haven't been writing a religious work, yet I found, when I completed the first draft, that Catholic themes are present. I cannot write what I do not believe. I can create characters who don't share my beliefs, and I can establish themes and content, but in the end, who I am as a Catholic is still imprinted upon the characters and within the story. Themes of sin, of redemption, forgiveness, sacrifice and eternal union arise in ways that are perhaps unexpected.

In writing seriously, I have found that my characters do truly have "free will", for they don't match what I want them to do, but seem to have minds of their own. Characters I'd like to see go down one path, in an interaction with another character choose a different one...and somehow, details emerge about the importance of the deviation from what I, the author want.

I have found, thanks to brief conversations with my priest friend, that I now have the ability to go back in this work of revision, looking with different eyes at where the free will of the characters emerge, for none of them are clones of me. They don't act as I do, they don't respond as I do. Nor do I want them to do so.

My friend today pointed out that this act of writing is an act of co-creation with God, in allowing the characters to develop, to become who they are and not necessarily what I originally envisioned them to be. It is humbling to think of it in those terms, yet his comments hearken back to the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas, revealing the proof of God's existence as the First Mover. A painting points to an artist, and the brush held by the artist, and in any given creation, God is that artist. A book points to the pen and the author, but then, who created the author?

Any truth points to God, if it is really true.

Whether or not my book will be published, I can't say. Although the first draft of the first book is complete, and I've done a read-through and minor correction with the second draft (typos, minor things), the third draft is in deep progress and will take time and additional research as I await one of my  important contacts to come back into the country to be available to assist with special-ops information. (non-classified) ;-)

It's amazing how many people I've already had to involve in just writing the first draft, and now I understand the litany of thanks given in any published book, for no author acts alone or anonymously.

So with that, dear readers, I thank you for the prayers and sacrifices you have offered me over the last several years, and beg for more in this new endeavor (and always for my Vocation, whatever it may be as I enter middle age).

It's entirely possible this blog is not at an end, however, I likely won't be writing much here any more. I can say that perhaps there will be other updates and other actions of God that prompt me to add another post, but maybe the "Tales of Adoro" are largely at an end since the original purpose of this blog has fallen into oblivion.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey, and, God willing, it will continue albeit in a direction I never really expected.

God bless you all, and thank you. From the bottom of my heart and the core of my soul, thank you.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

 ~ "The Road Not Taken", Robert Frost

A New Stage

It's no secret that I've been suffering from writer's block.

Part of it is the fact that because I work in a parish, sitting down on my off time to write about religious topics feels like work. And not work I really care to do, especially when I'm supposed to be getting away from work.

I've been seriously considering bringing this blog to a close simply because I don't think I have anything else to say. It's all been said or is perhaps being said better by someone else.

Still...this blog has been a wonderful outlet for me over the last several years, and I've met many friends, learned many things and I admit it's still a bit of an attachment. So, instead of hanging it up I'm switching gears for awhile.

That's right...I signed up for NaNoWriMo for the first time.

Perhaps, I thought, if I can put my focus into a non-religious topic, perhaps I'll find my Catholic muse again, and my motivation.

Or, perhaps, once November hits, because I'm supposed to be working on a novel, I may be struck once again by great topics for the blog.

Who knows? In any case, expect more erratic posts about random topics of interest to me (if not by anyone else) and, if you REALLY want me to post something, feel free to post your own random questions to spark my motivation.

After all, one of the things I love to do is answer sincere questions about our faith by people seeking to grow deeper in their relationship with Christ.

Until my next inspiration.....

Heroes

When I was a child, like many others, I loved "heroes". My attention wasn't captivated so much by Superman and Wonder Woman or the Wonder Twins or Aquaman as it was by CHiPs and the guys of Code Red and the paramedics of Emergency!.    As much as I was a dreamer, I was always, it seems, a realist, and as I got older I didn't seek out fantasy writings, but rather, real-life stories of real people who had something to say about everyday survival.

In high school and college, I read many books by police officers and firefighters because I was drawn to the fields and wanted to really KNOW the truth about their lives. What did they see every day? What was the stuff that Hollywood overdid or refused to show? I knew the world wasn't glamorous, so I read in order to get the "dark side", the stuff I needed to know in order to survive.

I wanted to be one of those people. I wanted to be a "hero", but most importantly one that was real, not something fabricated and built up to cartoonish proportions. I wasn't looking for power or adulation; I was looking for a way to make a real difference in an out-of-control world. And there, in the pages of those personal anecdotes, I found what I was seeking.

I compared those books to the life I was living, and on one hand, I think it fed into a coping mechanism common to children in severely dysfunctional families: I was both the mascot and the hero in my family, to some degree. But I wanted to be a real hero.

During my Senior year of high school, (age 17)  I had "run away" from home (to avoid  Mom's random screaming and other random flying objects at 3 am, among other things), and had found refuge with my best friend's family. Initially they didn't understand why I was there and encouraged me to try to solve things quickly. I really DID want to reconcile with my Mom, and my "host family" was obviously interested in the same thing, such that I did not want to wear out my welcome and lose a place of safety.  So one evening, after phone negotiations with Mom, my best friend drove me "home" and waited outside in case I needed a quick escape.

Hostage Negotiations

When I walked in the door, Mom was cooking dinner and told me to sit down as though nothing was happening. Our arrangement via phone was that I would be coming over specifically to talk to her about whether I could return...or not. Mom took a more manipulative approach: "I cook dinner and talk to you on MY terms and timeline."

In a normal family, that would be healthy. In my family...not so much.

 I was done with Mom's "terms" because they were NEVER rational. The woman was out of control, and tended to cause random and often very sharp objects to become airborne or shatter suddenly when she was struck by one of her usual rages. I was NOT willing to be in a room where she had access to knives and hot liquids or other dangerous objects!  You may call this "disobedience" if you'd like, and yes, it was. But it was ALSO, and more importantly, pure, basic survival.

Now, given the subject of deadly objects, while Mom had never tossed those items at others, I believed the day would come and I didn't want to be in the way.(Actually, that day DID come, but it's a different story.)   I was still at that point of my life where, if I was going to die, it was going to be at my own hand, not Mom's. But I digress, if only a little:

That evening, I did agree to go into the basement with her to help her fold the laundry as a vehicle to our negotiations. While there, she begged me to come home. I refused. I told her she was irrational, I couldn't live with her, and I WOULDN'T. She revealed she was still reeling over the "sudden" revelation that I planned to become a police officer. She asked me why, how could I do this to her?

I looked her directly in the eye, the first time in a long time, and told her very bluntly, "Because I want to be able to help people like you. I want to be able to come into an out-of-control situation, and protect others from people like you."

She reacted as though I'd struck her.

I'd meant what I'd said, but realized I'd said too much, and I'd been too brutally honest. Yet, it was the truth...God's honest truth. I saw my Mom as being dangerous. And she was...to herself and to others. And I was completely helpless unless I could escape her awful grasp on me.

To my surprise, she let me go. She hugged me, I hugged her back, more out of a desire to forgive her and be reunited than any actual sentiment, but both of us were crying, and I walked out the front door without looking behind me. I went back to my haven, to the family that had taken me in, and would continue to take me in until it was safe to return home, whenver that was.

It was actually quite clear that what was supposed to be "home" was really a dungeon of destruction, and I knew I couldn't be there anymore.

I think I went "home" a week later...because even though we want to escape our families, even if we need to, we also need to be with them...and know them so that we can save others from a similar fate.

In looking back a the situation, though, I wonder if maybe that's what it comes down to: I grew up in an out-of-control situation and my solution was to protect others from such a life. I needed to be a "hero" because I didn't have one, and no one should be without a hero. No one should exist without a Savior.

No one should have no way out.

I really think that's why I gravitated towards Law Enforcement, and worked so hard for that personal "Holy Grail."

It was the writings of  cops, the real people who drew me to them, because they didn't mince words. They told the negatives, they shared their hearts,  and some of them had also come from terrible home situations, too. They gave me hope, and through their writings, I was inspired to become something completely contrary to my true nature: a Cop.

On one hand, that's a bad thing; on the other, it's the best thing I could have done, for that brutal track brought me closer to God. It took me through the Pride of feeling like I had to do it all on my own, to realizing, today, that He has done it all. Every single step. Every bit.

We are often changed by the things we read. Our eyes, they say, are windows to the soul, and they can also be doorways. When we read the words of others, we allow their thoughts to penetrate our own souls.

I will not say that the things I read were bad; they were real, and they gave me an education I needed, and Hope. It was unknown men and women who inspired me to overcome some incredible weaknesses...because they had done so before me.

For that reason alone, to me they were Heroes.

All of us are affected by the lives of others, and when they tell their stories well, it makes us realize that we don't have to settle for the status quo. We don't have the look into the mirror and be satisfied. We can be inspired. We can consider new avenues. We can realize that whatever we are facing, or whatever discernment we are undergoing, others have gone before us, and they have told their stories. Or are telling their stories now.

It's not facts and figures and general information that brings us into taking the next step for God; it's the experiences of others who encourage us to follow them, follow the source, seek what (or Whom) is calling us.

Words carry a huge impact. Stories, at the service of the Holy Spirit, cause conversions and bring about results.

In the end, we are called to live our lives, tell our tales...and let everything we ARE reach the hearts of others. God can use our mistakes and our triumphs in powerful ways, if only we have the humility to step back and let Him take center stage.

You know,  I always wanted to be a hero.

I'm glad I don't have to live up to such a profile, though. It's better to be a  mere stepping stone...and let God be the Savior.


*** This very convoluted post was written back in 2008 and edited only a little tonight. It says a lot without saying much at all...or does it say little while saying a lot? You decide. 

What If? Arbor Vitae....Redemptionis

Some time ago I wrote a post about the fact that fiction safely asks the question, "What if?"

It asks us to suspend belief, to enter a different dimension and accept the parameters of the fictional life being given. This crosses all the genres; historical, future, science fiction, mystery, and the obvious fantasy. Even anecdotal accounts have a certain amount of "literary license" or "poetic license" in the telling of tales.

There is beauty in this, though, for often these fictional worlds force us to consider things that transcend us. Not all of those things are good; not all have at their heart Truth or Beauty or Goodness. Not all of them INTEND to have those things at their source, not because they want to challenge us, but only to present something totally oppositional to what we live, which, in the end, forces us to realize those things that ARE true and good and beautiful.

Of course, there is fictional writing out there worth even less than the "Piss Madonna" or whatever that waste of urine is called. Oh, and not just the "artist" but his blasphemous work, too.

But I digress.

This evening I had a conversation with a friend and we discussed a few things that have come to mind during the last few years of my theological studies and some recent talks I have given.

The conversation made me muse a bit more, realizing that questions are important and it's possible to ask them in a way that doesn't offend Truth, but perhaps maybe reveals it more clearly. I don't know. All I know is that I am pondering some theological questions, hope to do so faithfully and no matter where I tread, I hope to remain a loyal daughter of the Church.

Of what, you ask, do I muse tonight?

It goes back to Genesis and Original Sin.

Fascinating stuff, of course. We know what happened but I'm going to recap anyhow:

Eve was hanging out in the Garden one day, minding her own business when the Serpent slithered up the Tree of Life under whose branches Eve was innocently contemplating God's Glory.

The Serpent, a real snake of action, never known to be appreciative of contemplation himself, rudely interrupted her reverie and asked her randomly,

"Did God say you shouldn't eat of ANY tree in the garden?"

His deception was simple and subtle and he licked his lips while he waited for Eve to process what he'd asked. But she was actually more astute than he'd realized.

Eve, rising from her prayerful contemplation, corrected the Serpent, and said, "That's not what God said and you know it. He said we can eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but if we eat from a particular tree in the center, we can't touch it lest we die. THAT tree, not "any" tree. Be proper in your use of language; language can be really misleading. You should know better."

The serpent, realizing that God had gifted humanity with a real intellect and not just tree sap for brains, saw that he had to be even more sublime in his tactics. But he also saw an opening.

Rather than engage in the semantics of the argument, he started a new one, to see if he could keep Eve guessing. This was fun!

"WHAT?!" The Serpent exclaimed. "He said WHAT?!"

He noted with satisfaction Eve's expression, alarmed both at the blasphemy (for which she didn't have a word) and the seeming intelligence of the Serpent.

Eve felt a shadow creep into her intellect and will. She deliberated and thought maybe she should listen to the Serpent for a moment, even though every fibre of her being told her she should run away screaming.

The Serpent, seeing in her eyes the doubt creeping in, continued in his most enticing of voices, speaking in a conciliatory manner so as not to offend her sensibilities, "You will not die. God knows that when you eat of this fruit your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."

He waited, licking his lips, resting on a branch in a bit of sunlight that had made its way through the leaves. He moved a bit so that the light wouldn't fall directly on him, for he hated when his scales reflected the sunlight. He found a satisfying spot in the crotch of the tree and rested there, burrowing deeply in satisfaction, sighing in preparation for a nice nap after his present work was done.

Eve pondered the Serpent's subtle words. "Eyes opened?"

Did that mean her eyes weren't opened? She reached up and wiped her eyes for a moment, looking around her at the beauty of creation, the sun, the dappled spots on the ground, and the animals crowded around her feet. They all seemed oblivious to this conversation, but only went about gnawing on leaves or resting in the shade cast by the Hosta plants under the Tree of Life. Eve wiped her eyes again, wondering if perhaps it was possible there was something she WASN'T seeing? Could the Father have held something back from them? The Serpent seemed to think so. Why would he use that phrase if she already knew everything she was supposed to know? Was she supposed to know MORE?

And what of this "good and evil"?

What did that mean?

Eve looked around her, and saw that everything was good. She had intimate union with God, she was physically comfortable all the time, she had enough to eat, just the right amount, and life was perfect. Most importantly, she reveled in the love of God and perfect union with Him while enjoying His Creation.

What was "evil"?

This made her curious. What would the deprivation of good be like? Was there another side to things? Wouldn't it be interesting to see what it was like where God was not present?

The Serpent rested, watching Eve's deliberation, watching her eyes taking in everything around her and finally alighting on the Tree of Life.

Her eyes, focusing on the Arbor Vitae lit up in a different way. She saw that the Tree was good, too, and the fruit...quite inviting. It was colorful and emitted a tantalizing fragrance, perhaps even more so because it was forbidden.

She'd noticed it before but in purity of intention considered it nothing more than an inedible flower in a different form. But now, wondering if God perhaps hadn't told them EVERYTHING she felt her mouth watering and reached out to the tree, almost against her will...but not quite.

Once it was in her hand, she hesitated no longer and quickly brought it to her mouth. The taste was sweeter than anything she'd ever experienced or imagined, and this solidifed the doubt introduced to her by the Serpent. Yet she could not understand the sudden bitterness that caused her to spit out the seeds, gagging but unable to eject the pulp she'd ingested so willingly.

The sense of nausea and bitterness faded quickly, and overcome again by the inviting fragrance and salivating taste buds, Eve bit again into the flesh of the fruit, then offered it to Adam, who finally appeared out of the dappled shadows of the garden.

He did not hesitate to eat of the fruit offered to him from his beloved spouse, although she offered him no explanation. It was enough to him that the fruit was in her hand. The fragrance of it called to him and even if he'd been able to resist the sensation, her trusted hand, he thought, would never lead him astray. In his love of Eve, he ignored the echo of the voice of God speaking deep within him cautioning him against eating of the Tree of Life. Eve...her hand...her fruit...was Life ITSELF!

He bit deeply of the fruit, wallowing in it, reveling in it, not even noticing the Serpent gazing from the crotch of the Tree, his forked tongue betraying his excitement.

Then Adam and Eve locked eyes and were ashamed, for they realized neither were covered, and they stood immodestly. They both dove to either side of the Tree and then, carefully made their way to the foliage on either side, both pulling Hosta leaves and fig leaves as they went, trying to cover their shame.

Neither understood the sudden desire they had for the other, a desire that focused not on their ends, but on their parts; not what the other would attain in sanctity, but what they could experience physically in that moment.

Then God walked through the Garden as was His custom and called out to Adam and Eve who were suspiciously absent from their typical joyful greetings.

"Where are you?"

God knew where they hid, but knew they had a choice: to accept or reject His loving question. He knew their shame and was saddened, but instead of condemning, He asked them first to come to Him in love and humility.

They did not come. In their shame, they continued to hide, and gather more leaves to cover themselves.

Adam, the first to speak, blamed Eve, and in so doing accused God, blaming HIM for putting "that woman" with him.

Eve, incensed, spoke up from the next thicket, claiming that it was all the fault of the Serpent. But she did not come out from hiding, for she was busy weaving clothing from the foliage that surrounded her.

We know the rest...we're living it every day. We know that Christ died because of this very event and the effects that followed.

But WHAT IF....

What if, when God walked through the Garden, Adam and Eve had come to Him as He called?

What if Adam had gone to God on his knees with the remainder of the fruit of the Tree of Life? What if he had taken personal responsibility for his actions, and instead of blaming Eve, had admitted that he firstly had neglected to protect her and secondly, had directly disobeyed God both out of his own will and out of his disordered love for Eve over God?

What if Eve had knelt in humility before God and admitted she engaged the Serpent instead of walking away, instead of calling God, and, worst of all...for doubting Him in favor of the word of a creature she could crush under her own heel if she but tried?

What would our theology be like, what would our world be like if Adam and Eve had, in effect, gone to Confession?

Yes, their sin would be erased...to a degree. But original sin, in some sense, would remain. Temporal punishment would still be a reality, for the wound would still be present. The propensity to sin would still have been introduced.

It would make sense for them to be ejected from the Garden, and for the same reason we recognize today; if they continued to have access to the Tree of Life, having already tasted its sweetness they would not be able to withstand it without eating of it, and, of course, if they continued to eat of it they would not be able to be healed of their disobedience and doubt. Ejecting them from the Garden was an act of Mercy which pointed, from the beginning, to the coming Redemption.

But, in the case of Adam and Eve's repentance, would the effects of original sin be lessened? Would the world be more like the Garden but without the Tree of Life? Would there still be pain in childbirth? Would food be brought forth through thorn-infested land or would it grow more easily with minimal efforts to harvest it? Would the preternatural gifts of the original pair be part of humanity now? And would death have entered the world?

I have all these questions, and more.

As my friend pointed out this evening, this is what happens when one gets a little theology. We ask the deeper questions, the "what-if" questions. Not seeking to change reality, but rather, hoping to better understand the reality that we live every single day.

My own pondering will continue, and as I understand it, this is of the type that has kept theologians awake for centuries. "What if?"

It's the "what if" that brings us into contact with God and forces us to pursue Truth. True questions don't lead us OUT of the Church, but INTO it.

On a personal note...

I look at the story of Genesis, and realize I'm a part of it. I live it every day. I give in to the Serpent's suggestions, I enter into dialogue, I deliberate and I eat of what is forbidden. And knowing my influence, I offer it to others, those who should know better.

We all live Genesis every day.

I am reminded of the Exultet sung at the Easter Vigil:

"O Felix Culpa!" O Happy Fault! O Happy Sin of Adam that has won us so great a Redemption!

Oh, yes, I've experienced the greatness of God's mercy. I fell hard, and I fell long but when I came back, God's mercy was far greater than my sin, for the Redemption is ALWAYS more powerful than the Fall.

I guess "what if" doesn't matter. When I look at the story of our Redemption, I do not see the the Fall, even though I live it. Rather, I am drawn into the Wounds of the Savior who reaches for me from the Cross, which has taken the place of the Tree of Life, for Jesus is life itself and feeds us directly from His own Body and Blood, while the Serpent lays crushed dead beneath the weight of the Cross and the heel of the Mother of God who kneels with all her children, pointing to her Son, pointing to Love Incarnate.

The Cross, the Crucifixion...there is the Tree of Life, the Arbor Vitae, the Redemptionis Sacramentum. There is Life Itself, raised up, drawing us to Him, just as He promised.

God always keeps His promises.

Hmmmmm....

Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a writer. I have NO IDEA why, but even as early as second grade, I dreamed of authoring a book, and even more...doing my own illustrations!

That's always been one of my deepest desires, but it's one that has morphed over time. I have several "novels" I've begun, I have short stories, and on another blog, I have the first seven "chapters" of a story I wrote when I was twelve...but it's been given new life now that I'm an adult. (It's dead on the racetrack right now, though.)

I think that may be one of the dangers of blogging; instant publication. I remember dreaming of "being published" but here I am, doing it myself. Ho hum. Oh, look, I hit "publish" again and THERE IT IS!

No, it'll never be the same thing as actually being a published author. Although I have had a few minor things published here and there, I haven't pursued this very much and those sources are so obscure that no one has ever heard of them.

Pay them no mind.

Here and there I've mused about taking my blog posts, only the cream of the crop, and compiling them into a book, maybe an anthology of sorts. There are bloggers who have done this, although I've wondered why. Certainly there are bloggers who share a great deal of information, and a book would make it more readable, especially if the information is reliable and can serve as a resource.

In my case, I look at what I publish, and truly, when I look at my "market", well...it's a dime a dozen. It's worth nothing. No one knows me. I'm not a famous person and never will be (thank God!) The downside of using a pseudonym such as mine is that I can't use it in traditional publication. I'll have to either give my real name...or make up another one. And every pen name I think of is so incredibly stupid I'd be ashamed to stamp my work with it!

Just recently, though (and he's not the first) a commenter said he'd like to see these "prequel" posts compiled into a book, along with whatever happens in my upcoming trip.

He got me thinking again. (I'm assuming a "he", although the person was anon and could be a "she"!)

In any case, the comment reminded me that when I began this blog, I was in my initial phase of discernment. The one I abandoned for a couple years, and which came back with a vengeance starting last July. A lot has happened since I started this blog, and I couldn't have predicted ANY of it.

I'm one of those people who likes to research any possible path. Back when I graduated college, I researched what it would take to volunteer for a couple years, in, say, Guatemala. I was looking for a faithful Catholic organization, even though I wasn't practicing my faith at the time. I wanted to. I wanted to do good things...AND be holy. I wanted to seek God. To several friends, I commented that I wanted to read anecdotal stories from people who had done such things. Seeing that no such books existed, I wanted to venture on a mission, keep a journal, and compile my stories and those of people I knew, publish it, and then use the proceeds to start a foundation to help young adults find the financial freedom to take those months or couple years in service to the Church.

Clearly, that never happened.

That's what's so amusing...it seems this idea has come full circle!

This time the topic is discernment, and I'm not musing about entering into it...I'm THERE. And it's brutal and horrific and had I known it would be this bad I would have run away years ago and maybe I would have joined the Rodeo and became a clown.

At least with bull's horns and hooves you know clearly what to avoid, when to run away, and whether or not the big stick in your hand means anything at all!

Yet, it's also been joyful, and even amidst all the shadows, I'm grateful for this experience. I see God's hand in ways I would never have seen had I not taken the time to seriously discern the deepest questions (most of which I still haven't truly asked.)

So now I take another look at writing a book. This one is mostly written...it's all over my blog. Some posts are labeled, some are not. But...I can go back to the beginning, pull the posts on discernment and some of the more spiritual/theological ones, and compile them into book form.

I would have to do some serious editing, for these posts were written for this venue...not for a book. I would have to add connections and maybe explanations. Perhaps I'd have to take more care to define certain terms.

What would be the purpose of the book?

Well...for the last couple years, I've gotten emails and comments from people who have contacted me because of what I have written. Some are in the same "place", some have been where I was a that time (or am now!), some have been seeking, some needing encouragement. That's why I've kept writing and continue to do so now.

I realize now that maybe I'm providing what I wanted to provide so long ago, but now, for a different topic. There are a lot of books on discernment and the theological "how-to", but not a lot of stuff on experience. And yet, sometimes experience is the most valuable of all sources.

People don't come to God through dry tomes, but through personal invitation. They come to know Jesus not through the dry words of a theologian, but through the warm expression of someone who knows Him..or at least is sincerely trying to do so. That's why testimony to God's glory, both spoken and written, is so important.

We know we have to tell our stories if we want to evangelize. But why hasn't this same idea been taken up within the Church more broadly as a way to help souls find their Vocations?

I've decided to start work compiling posts I deem "worthy", at least initially. If nothing else, I figure it might be a good spiritual and academic practice to sincerely look at those old posts and try to improve them. It might also remind me how long I've been face-to-face with God.

Don't look for results any time soon. This is a big project, I don't know if I'm serious about actually publishing a compilation publicly, but I DO need a little advice from any experienced writers who may be in my midst.

First: since I'll be putting posts into Word, is it better to just start one document and continue it, or to set an approximate number of pages and have several sections? I can put them all into one Folder, but from a practical standpoint, are big files or small files the way to go?

Advice needed, even if this project never goes beyond this post and my computer.

*

The Rest of the Story

I'll never forget those days in our warm Illinois kitchen, sitting at the table, listening to the radio over a warm bowl of tomato soup with cheese sandwiches, or chicken noodle soup with a side of Saltines.  Maybe it was raining, or snowing, or an otherwise dreary day, but we were warm and dry, and in spite of the occasional static from the AM bandwidth, we'd hear the tinny voice of Paul Harvey coming into our home to tell us stories.  

I remember long car trips from Illinois to visit family in Minnesota, or maybe in the upper peninsula of Michigan, crossing long stretches of the midwest, in all weather, but listening to the voice of Paul Harvey tell us about things both known and unknown in our experience. 

It was on a long car ride on a rainy day that I heard the story of the Lonely Hitchiker.  As the rain beat against the car windows, as we passed or were passed by truck after truck, we heard of the semi driver who picked up the Hitchhiker, on a day just like that one.  We passed truck stops and I looked through the bleary rain wondering if Paul Harvey was talking about one of those drivers. 

You see, he had a gift...the subjects of his stories were real people, even if they were fictional.  He made us see PAST the story, giving us a glimpse into the lives of people who passed through the words.  We didn't just get "the story", but we were introduced to the people who made up the story. 

Every time we listened to his show, even when I was fussy or crabby and contrary, I quieted upon hearing his voice, and gave in to the images his descriptions brought to mind.  Often he spoke in a way that brought my own young memories to the forefront, helping me to understand even though I really had no other reference.  If he spoke of truck drivers, I thought of those we saw on the highway, or of our neighbor, who was a truck driver.  

Whatever he spoke about had an impact of some sort. And often, Mom would tell us stories, too, jumping off of what Paul Harvey had said.  Sometimes because she had to explain things, sometimes because he made her remember her own stories.  And so, there, around the kitchen table, or maybe in the car, we got to hear stories of the lives of real people. 

So it was that often our lunches were silent; all Mom had to do was turn on the radio and even in the midst of bloody sibling rivalry, we'd stop, slurp our soup or pull the crusts off our sandwiches, and let the stories told by Paul Harvey fill our kitchen and our minds.  And we all knew the famous line was coming, Paul Harvey's trademark:  "....when we come back, I'll tell you....the REST of the Story..."

Sometimes we'd wait in silence. Sometimes we'd rehash what he'd already said.  But always...always, we were involved. We were engaged. We wanted to know the people he was talking about.  

And we felt like we knew him.  He was like the uncle we never met, a long-lost relative who told us about other relatives we only wish we could know.  Every show was an adventure.  Every story had meaning, everything had a moral, even if it wasn't stated as blatatly as in "Stories from Aesop" we watched on the cartoons every afternoon. 

Sometimes I wonder if my own penchant for storytelling comes from him; I was so entranced by his words, his ability to tell a story, I wished I could make things that interesting, too.  

As I got older, I realized that some of his stories really WEREN'T that interesting, although he told them in such a way one could not help but be affected. For he had the ability to find the nugget of gold in anyone's story, and bring it to light, no matter how humble.  And the listener couldn't help but be touched, for it wasn't necessarily the story that was so important, but the person, or the situation.  He made it PERSONAL. 

Many of us have fond memories of Paul Harvey, and will never forget his voice coming across the airwaves.  We will never forget the typical background of radio static, always there, once an annoyance, but now, making up the sound of nostalgia in a fond memory of a voice we'll never hear again. 

Rest in peace, dear Mr. Harvey.  Thanks for the stories, for the warm kitchen memories, and the introduction to storytelling so unwittingly given to a couple of fractious children in midwestern America.  Your legacy isn't the news as we know it, but the intention you so clearly held...to bring real people into the spotlight, so that we all might understand life a little more clearly. 

Perhaps, one day, we'll finally meet so I can shake your hand and get...the rest of the story. 

Good day. 

God bless you, Mr. Harvey, and Rest in Peace. 

 

  

Catching Up with PSA's

It's been crazily busy this week, so I've had to "ignore" several emails in my inbox as I've focused on getting homework done and dashing off posts for things that popped into my head and scrambled around in effort to be written.

So, now that my 2 Midterms have been turned in, and my paper is edited and printed, I can finally bring you the important news from the Catholic world...and believe me, this is stuff you DO NOT want to miss!

First up - PRAYER AND FASTING!

Ignorant Redneck (who isn't so ignorant) is encouraging us to pray and fast for 3 days leading up to the election...and don't let that time limit you. Prayer and fasting even not until then is greatly needed!

Remember the Gospel? Remember where the Apostles were trying to cast out a demon and couldn't, and Jesus came and did? Remember when they asked him why, he said that kind of demon couldn't be cast out except by prayer and fasting?

Well--I suggest that people commit--promise an follow through--to fasting for three days before the election, and praying, maybe the Rosary, maybe the Prayer of St. Michael. Fast and Pray that the election will place into power people who will at least respect life, and the will of God.

Just today I read a quote somewhere: Pray for a country that refuses to pray for itself. So go to IR's post and committ to prayer and fasting! Or, if you can't do that for 3 days (I confess I'm a wimp and can handle a day...beyond that I'm mush.), Then give up chocolate, give up SOMETHING as SOME kind of fast. And Pray, pray, pray! Start now and call it a "mini Lent"!

Thanks, (Not-So)Ignorant Redneck!

VOCATIONS TO THE PRIESTHOOD

I received a message today about a new website promoting Priestly Vocations:

I have recently read an interview given by Monsignor Georges Durand to the French publication “Thérèse de Lisieux.” The monsignor is one hundred years old. During his ministry he spent 27 years at the Basilica at Lisieux and was a good friend of Céline, the sister of St Therese. At the conclusion of the interview the old Monsignor said “Pray fervently to Saint Therese for the priesthood. Pray for priests. We must not bemoan the lack of priests, but act. We must pray for vocations to the priesthood”.

May I respectfully request you to mention this new web site on your blog. It contains wonderful suggestions for Bishops, Priests, Seminarians, Families, Schools and Directors of Vocations.

This web site called http://www.vocationsguidetopriesthood.org/ has positive suggestions for all members of the community.

I sincerely pray that you will visit it and hopefully give it some much needed publicity.

Pat Ryan

What else is there to say? St. Padre Pio said that the world could better exist without the sun than it can without the Mass. Anything that encourages more men to consider the priesthood is bound to bear fruit!

CATHOLIC WRITERS AND READERS UNITE!

Attention Writers & Readers!

Leoness Books is a newly formed small press specializing in Literary Catholic Writing. Leoness has been created due to the dearth of publishing opportunities for Catholic writers whose work can be described as "Literary, yet artfully overt." Leoness is seeking book-length fiction (both novels and story collections) and narrative non-fiction submissions for their Leoness Book Award, and short stories for their Best Catholic Short Stories, 2010 edition.

Leoness Books is also seeking dedicated readers who are tired of the syrupy genre fiction that Christian publishers attempt to pass off as "real life," who are put off by the poorly written Apocalyptic novels that misrepresent Bible teaching, and disheartened by the plethora of literary options for nearly every subset of humanity, except for devout Catholics seeking quality literature inspired by faith. There are several ways to become involved and ensure Leoness Books’ success. Please visit www.LeonessBooks.com for more information.

And FINALLY...

I learned today that I was nominated for the Blogger's Choice Awards in the "Best Religious Blog" category. When I finally found my blog, I found that I had a whopping 2 votes....a really long ways behind a couple of atheist blogs. And that just DEFIES logic. While I don't write for awards or to be noticed, I do have a problem with the idea that someone who either hates God or disbelieves in Him such that they base their entire lives and defitions on there not being a God actually has more votes than I do.

Or maybe I'm supposed to be learning the Virtues of Patience and Humility from this. But if not...then feel free to vote for me! (I'm probably about 200 pages back....)

You do have to register to vote, it's painless and minimal (I did it last year), and you can help promote your favorite blogs....or condemn the worse ones! (The latter is literally a category for the worst blog ever, and thank God I haven't been nominated for it!)

Thanks to the person who nominated me...I think that this is the first time that happened!

Deep Theological Implications of Coffee Beans

This morning I found a bookstore with a coffee shop, and sat down to try to structure my paper on unanswered prayer and suffering. Of course, I also purchased a large dark-roast coffee, which unfortunately tasted burned. But I was in need so drank it all down quite contentedly.

Studying spirituality always seems to lead me into previously-unconsidered territory, which is not surprising. And in fact, quite a warm, excited feeling descended upon me as I began to make connections, the synapses firing in my brain.

And then I began to consider deep theological questions which had never before occurred to me to ask.

* How can I tell the difference between the action of the Holy Spirit versus the action of too much caffeine?

* When contemplating spirituality, what is the difference between actual higher forms of prayer....and an excess of coffee?

* Is this detachment...or overindulgence?

While becoming quite overjoyed at these questions and the potential answers, I became likewise aware of that great internal feeling, that "fire" in the soul, and that I was in need of a "study break". (* AHEM *)

Now I'm back home, having run errands, and I'm still shaking.

Maybe I should rethink the coffeehouse setting with regard to my Saturday study time.

Novel Update

For those who are following along, I've added a couple more chapters to the story.

I'm going through a very rough patch in the story currently as we go through some transitions, have to pass over time and do so smoothly, and as I become acquainted once again with Kaya.

A curious thing happens when one writes lengthy fictional stories; the characters become "real". I find that I am able to empathize with this character, and as her personality begins to develop and I begin to see her flaws and her virtues, she becomes somewhat solidified. At this point in the story, her personality to most of you is likely very wooden, and the last couple chapters don't have any dialogue. But this time period is necessary as it is laying the foundation of a much larger story, one I hope will reveal to me, and to all of you, certain nuggets of truth.


Some of the characters in the story are loosely based on people I know, but Kaya...she's not like anyone I've ever met. She has perhaps some traits that are mine, some that belong to my best friend in high school...and some that make her a completely different person. Kaya has been floating around in my head, nagging me to write this story for years and years, so I suspect she won't quit bugging me until I let her have her day.

To be honest, although I have the basic framework of my novel, I don't know the story. It keeps changing. And when I realize I've just written something into the story I no longer like, I'm also finding that it's a setup for one event, and I have to figure out the logical consequences and fill in the blanks, rather than changing the story. It's like life, perhaps, as a small, inconsequential metaphor. Once something is done and a consequence is being faced, a chain of events has been set into action and has to play out.

Writing is all about digging for treasure, following threads, and looking at life from a God's eye view. So I'm finding, the further I go in this endeavor, that, not only do I not want to be God, but I'm thrilled that he doesn't make me weave together the different threads of my own life, but rather, just asks me to go through the events, keeping my eyes on him.

So now, even as I write this story, and feel the fictional eyes of Kaya upon me, and even though I hold the pen, in reality I am looking to God, because he is the author of all in my life that is good and true and beautiful, and somehow, He is the one who introduced me to Kaya and her world. It's time for me to bring her story into the light and see what gems will be unearthed for the world to see.

My Fiction Blog

A long time ago, I started a second blog, a story I actually wrote when I was 12, and have re-written many times since.

I started it as a way to force myself to continue the story this time, perhaps finally to completion. I have many of the chapters written, many of the characters defined...but as any writer knows, all that is subject to change.

Today I posted chapter 2, 3, and 4; some of you may have already visited the prologue and chapter one, and your comments were favorable. I have now added another few chapters and hope to write more tonight and tomorrow.

I can't promise that this story will continue to anyone's satisfaction, but since I don't have a job, at least I can give myself to this work I began more years ago than I care to count!

The title is a working title only, and will actually change when the story further matures.

So to those of you who enjoy fiction...welcome to the great Catholic novel!

I may start yet another blog with some of my other works of fiction. We'll see.

Writing From the Heart of Faith

I'm going to share my dream with you. It's a dream that just came up in the combox below, but one that has been on my heart for a long time. A couple years, anyway.

I think it's obvious I want to be a writer, and to a certain degree, I AM a writer. I'm not sure who said it, but I do think a famous person defined a writer not as someone with a long list of publication credits, but rather, as someone who MUST write. I am the latter. I have few credits to my name, but if I did not write, I don't know what I'd do.

So, the background to my dream:

A few years ago, while I was discerning the religious life, I read a book called, "UNVEILED, The Hidden Lives of Nuns" by Cheryl L. Reed.

Ms. Reed, a journalist by profession, was raised fundamentalist and attended a Catholic church as an adult, but did not convert because she had the grace to admit she wanted to pick and choose what she believed, so she converted to Orthodoxy. Sadly, I think she was not well catechized there, either, and was an apparant Cafeteria Orthodox. I do not think she had evil intentions; rather, she was a secularist, not a Catholic, and while I appreciate an outsider's view, she could not do justice to the beauty of our faith.

Anyway, as a journalist with no real understanding of Catholicism, she went into several convents, monasteries, cloisters, and homes to experience the lives of sisters and nuns. I have to admit it's a good idea, and she did not limit her experience to the "progressive" or "liberal" orders to which she was clearly most sympathetic. She also entered the traditional, severe orders such as the Redemptorists, Trappists, and Passionists.

She told the story as any media pundit would tell it, not understanding Catholicism, thus she saw the dissident communities as actually on par or superior to the faithful communities. The book made me embarassed for Catholicism due to the rampant disregard for the Truth. I felt that she made the faithful orders appear to be superstitious and strange, which must be how she saw them in her nearly faithless perspective.

I could not get through the book. I often had to put it down, and this book did more to push me AWAY from religious life than anything else. But I'm not an idiot so I did not let her perspective affect my own discernment. Which is why I put the book down when I got angry. I did eventually get through most of it by piecemeal or by skimming, but by then, an idea began to form.

I'm Catholic, and I'm doing my best to be a faithful Catholic. I'm doing my best to know and understand and teach the faith as it was handed down from Jesus Christ himself. I pray that when I teach, it is Jesus who speaks through me, with all the authority of the Church, not the authority of Adoro.

So....my idea is this:

Take up this same project, but from a different perspective: Visit these communities and write about them from the eyes of faith, the knowledge of the Church, and make the book not just informative, but a spiritual testament of the vibrancy of religious life in America. I would like to visit male orders also but I don't think that would work, so I would suggest that a male author take up a parallel project and complete that part.

In any case, I would love to spend some time with various communities, from days to weeks at a time depending upon how such a thing would work out, live with them, pray with them, write about them, learn from them...and not only tell their stories, but share their wisdom and spirituality. I would focus on the faithful communities.

Because I don't see how an unknown author such as myself would be able to take up such a project, I have not considered the specifics. But if I could do this, I fully believe it could be done even while I am in grad school (Ave Maria program meets once per month, all weekend long, leaving the rest of the month free). Such a project paired with solid theology in grad school...what treasures God could bring out of that intellectual and prayerful marriage!

I can't do it as my life stands now. I have seen magazines and writer's books reference grants, but I don't know if there's a grant large enough to cover my mortgage, association fee, etc., my bills, my dogs, and the travel expenses needed to follow this project. I wouldn't want to sell my house because the project would not be permanent, and I'd need a home base to utilize in the actual writing of the manuscript. Besides, I just learned my new printer has fax capabilities.

I think projects like this are usually commissioned by a publisher, and I have no idea how to even seek that out. I know a book like this would sell, but if I didn't already have a publisher asking for it, then I'd need a sponsor, and that person would have to put up a lot of cash on an unknown with no guarantees.

So for now, it's just a dream, but I like this dream, and if God gave me the ability, I'd love to carry it out. There's a certain community down in Nebraska that would be first on my list. (You know who you are!)

So what do you think? I know some of my regular readers are professional writers, and I know that most of you are faithful Catholics. Would you buy such a book? Would you sponsor such an endeavor? Does the Serra Club have any grants for unknown authors who have big dreams?