Autumn

For some reason I have been really looking forward to Autumn this year. I don't really understand it, I have never been super excited before. Perhaps I am looking forward to the lower electric bill because we won't be running the AC all the time. This is indeed a perk, but it isn't the essence of my joy for autumn. I have a beautiful image in my mind of a tree covered lane in a development, with deep carpets of warm colored leaves on the lawns with patches of the summer's last remnants of green grass still poking through, the trees still clinging to their cargoes. I see children running around jumping into the large piles their dads raked together, laughing and throwing handfulls of the colorful soon-to-be rotted material onto each other. I see baskets full of gourds on coffee tables and indian corn hung on the door, cornucopias and pumpkins keeping their October vigil before they become the sagging, shrivelled faces of November. I see mountains as of flame, their rocky tips perhaps covered with the slightest white caps, a testament to the deep sleep which is soon to come upon the land under its alabaster blanket of snow. At least, this is what I expect in Vermont. Here in PA we still have brown Christmases. How sad. I see the sun filtering through the thining canopies of shedding trees, as each breeze takes more of the load from their sleepy, heavy laden branches, as though to say, "Rest, dear beloved. You who give life now, take your rest and I shall awaken you when the time has come. Do not fear for your charges. Your ever-green brethren shall keep watch over your land while you slumber in silence." I see young men and women in sweaters, but needing nothing else for the moment by way of warm covering, walking and laughing together under azure skies, ignescent trees, pale sun. I see picnic-ers with their baskets and red-and-white checked blankets on hill sides enjoying the days of indian summer. I smell the scent of apples drifting from the orchards, with their promises of hot, spicy cider ladled from a pot.

Indeed, I'm not sure whats going on with me this year. But I am really loving autumn...my desire is to share this lovely season with someone special this year. A friend, a family member, maybe just Jesus, from Whom all good things come.

My Parents Discontinued Blog

Back when I started my blog, my parents were inspired and started a blog of their own. They posted one entry. They've not posted since. However, both the entry and the name of the blog are so awesome that I figured they deserved to be posted on here, so that the slightly higher than 1 viewers I have could see it. Their blog was called, Vermont Fools: Aging, Itching, B*ing, and Life.

My parents are so awesome haha.



Why the Heck do we Have Mosquitos?

Well, this is my first attempt at a blog and I asked myself why the Heck do we have Mosquitoes? Those miserable, biting, blood-sucking vermin serve absolutely no purpose other than driving every living creature to near insanity. Vermont woods are beautiful, but heaven forbid that we get any form of moisture. I watched my poor dog trying to cuff one of the pests off from his nose and then realized that I had two gnawing on the back of my neck and another trying to make a landing in my nose hairs. I am sure that somehow these things serve some form of purpose or they would not be on the earth. However, maybe they have been released from hell to run strafing missions on the planet. My mom always said that " You have to eat a peck of dirt before you die" but she never said anything about sucking down a bushel of these pointy nosed vampires. I definitely will try to improve my blogs in the future so please bear with me.

Home is where the heart is...

I wonder where my heart is. I guess I would say that I always feel at home wherever my closest relationships are. So I could be in England, but if I'm with a dear friend, I'd feel at home I guess. Not to say I don't have any attachment or love for places in themselves. I love Vermont and I love Lancaster. Both beautiful, farmy type places. Yes, I just said "farmy." Perhaps agrarian would be a better word. But ultimately, no place, no matter how pretty, is worth being in if you don't have close knit community.

I thought I was building that here. I guess I still am, but right now I feel rather lonely. I guess this would be natural when one is coming from four years of living with one's friends. Dorm life is pretty wonderful, but it can't go on forever. I find that friendships become more difficult when one isn't constantly surrounded by opportunity. You have to make an active effort. You have to go to the people, rather then waiting for them to come to you. You have to work at it a bit more, and invest a bit more maybe. Investment. Hmm...now there is a term I am learning the meaning of, a bit...I never really thought of it before. I just sort of moseyed along and enjoyed the people around me, but I wasn't really aware of putting a stake in someone else (does that sound rather vampiric?) Lets see...dictionary.com gives several definitions for this word. The one that seems most pertinent is this: Invest: to use, give, or devote (time, talent, etc.), as for a purpose or to achieve something: He invested a lot of time in helping the homeless. It also refers to money, but the common definition seems to involve putting something in with the hopes of getting something back. Hmm...it makes me wonder then, how this concept of investment lines up with the Gospel. Are we then meant to invest in other people? Do I only give with the hopes of getting back? I thought we were called to give without thought to return. But in relationships, especially the closer ones, there is mutual gift. Both parties give. Then, it would make sense wouldn't it for both parties to expect to receive? If one gives a part of themselves to someone else, they would reasonably expect some kind of reciprocation. I think sometimes though, because of sin, we don't get that. Some people are incapable of giving it. I mean, look at Christ, He certainly gave and gives more to us than we can ever return. Who has given him anything that he may be repaid? But I'm not sure on this. I'd appreciate comments if anyone has some wisdom to offer.

But yeah...friendships, relationships. These make a home, especially family. And in the Body of Christ, we are all family are we not? Family is the closest relationship. Your wife, if you're married, becomes family. But there is family in the general sense, and then there is real personal intimacy. That takes a long time to develop. And it takes longer when you're not in a dorm. So I guess I have to be patient, and trust God to guide me where He wills. I want a home in Lancaster, I'd love to have a family here. But if ultimately I never get close to anyone, then will it truly be my home? Am I destined to be a wanderer?

Lets take it even further. No person, even in family, can be ultimate fulfillment. Augustine learned well where the restless heart must go in order to find rest. You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You. And God doesn't live in Vermont (though he may live in Lancaster, and he certainly does not live in Philadelphia haha). Actually God probably dwells more in the poor and afflicted places of the world than any other. Jesus didn't live in a palace. But that aside, we know that the divine nature is outside of time and space. He is not bound by any of our categories. So then, I must place my heart in His hands, and there my heart will find its fulfillment. In the eternal Fatherland, in heaven with the Divine Master. With Jesus. So if home is where the heart is, then perhaps my home ought to be in heaven. Of course, I'm not stupid. We are creatures of both heaven and earth...and so we would desire to have an earthly home too. And in the eschaton, we will. God will dwell in the world with men, not men flitting around in heaven. But this side of eternity...where shall my home be?
Perhaps when we are lonely it is opportunity to draw nigh to Him who alone can satisfy. But sometimes even that doesn't seem to alleviate that feeling. Maybe all my skeptic friends would say thats because he's not there and I'm a fool for believing it. Well thats crap, and here's why its crap. If the world is any indication, those nations and those people who have rejected God in their lives seem to be the most impoverished in their hearts. The most lonely. And they don't know where to turn for consolation. By grace, I have some idea. I can use loneliness as a reminder that no person can fill me. Here's a poem by St. Theresa of Avila. It might shed some light on the lonely heart...

Let nothing disturb thee,
Let nothing affright thee;
All things are passing;
God never changeth;
Patient endurance
Attaineth to all things;
Who God possesseth
In nothing is wanting;
God alone sufficeth.

I pray our Lord in His mercy would fix my weak and failing eyes upon Himself. And, having that sight, I pray he'd give me friends to share it with. And a home here, while I await my entry into my heavenly home.

Shopping Carts and Rebel Hearts

Hello all...and I imagine "all" in this instance consists of maybe three people haha. Its been a very long time since I posted, for that I am sorry to everyone who really wants to see posts. Its been a combination of things that's kept me off blogger...haven't really felt like it, been tired when I've gotten home from work, too busy, etc. I have many ideas I want to post about, but right now will just be this one.

Everyone has had to deal with the shopping carts at the grocery store. Sometimes they work fine, just gliding along down between the racks, nice and straight. Then sometimes you get stuck with the cart that has a bum wheel. You're pushing it along and all of a sudden the cart just veers to the left right into the display of cake mix thats on sale this week. You sigh and heave it back to where it was supposed to be and next thing you know it veers to the right directly into the sauerkraut. Now I don't know of any stores that have cake mix and sauerkraut in the same isle, but bear with me. You look down as you're pushing it, and there it is, the culprit. One of your wheels is all tangled up with bits of string, tape, and God knows what else, and is seized up tight. The other is just spinning around uselessly in a happy little circle, dumdy dumdy dum, not touching the floor at all and certainly not helping you. And you realize, that this particular shopping trip is really going to exercise your upper arms. And your patience.

Many times I feel like my heart behaves like one of those blasted shopping carts. It goes where it wills. It never stays on a straight path, and it seems never to go where I want it to go. It is a rebel. I'm always having to heave to put it on the path it belongs, but soon enough, I'm veering to the right or to the left again. It fluctuates between feelings of great piety and stark emptiness. It becomes happy and sad for hundreds of different reasons, and becomes discouraged rather easily. Worse, it wants what it wants when it wants it, and anything less than this is perceived as a grave injustice. And here am I, trying to wrest my heart back. It is very tiresome sometimes.

Now imagine this. You're in a grocery store, and you are the manager. And EVERY shopping cart in your store has a bum wheel. Every cart is veering. And not only into walls, but into other carts. I can imagine this would be quite frustrating. As manager, you have the power and resources to requisition new equipment whenever it is needed. It would be simple just to order replacement carts, newer, better ones.

Now imagine a manager who instead of getting new carts, decides to keep the ones he has. And actually cares about each individual cart enough to repair it and fix it. And even though they veer, he keeps on using them. And somehow, manages to get everything in the store done perfectly. That would have to be a near omnipotent manager. In fact, I think you might have to be omnipotent to pull of that particular task!

And so here I am, my heart a recalcitrant shopping cart. And yet, that is no obstacle at all for the great manager of this store.

From House to Home

I would consider myself somewhat easily amused. And perhaps easily satisfied. Well, satisfaction has come to me in great quantities, and for only 26 dollars at that! I have in my possession a real wooden kitchen table and a set of four matching chairs. It is wonderful. It makes my dining room actually become a room where one dines rather than a dance floor, which I was seriously considering converting it into before I found these five lovely beauties. It wouldn't have been too hard, the ceiling fan has a motor, just remove the blades and attach a disco ball, and presto. Dance floor. But NOW I don't need to do that anymore! Seriously, I'm giddy. When I was in Oxford, I didn't have a proper table in our flat. We had to eat on the couch. It really sucked, and made me feel like I was living in a dorm, not a home. Well now all that's changed. I have a real kitchen table...a place to sit and write, sit and eat, sit and type on my computer. For some reason, a kitchen table really makes the home for me. I'm not sure why exactly, perhaps its because the family meal was a formative occurrence for me when I was growing up. But now I can proudly celebrate the fact that I do indeed have my own home! Yay!!!

Boxes and Tye Dye

I envy some of my friends their emotional control. They seem to be able to "compartmentalize," that is, they can take whatever it is they're feeling and seal it off in a box in one corner of their mind while they devote their energy to something else. Later, when the time is right, they can open the box and deal with whatever creepy crawly thing is scrabbling around the inside trying desperately to escape. I think this ability reflects some degree of emotional maturity. It expresses the ability of a person to shift focus from themselves to an appropriate task, be it a work assignment, school assignment, or another relationship. Those with this skill have greater power to be available to others and to accomplish the will of God in spite of their own problems. I respect this.

Of course this ability has a downside too. It can be used as a shield to insulate one's self from too much pain. It can be used to cut people out, not to make one's self more available for them. People with this skill highly developed most likely have a strong independent streak running through them. They don't rely on others, they simply pack it away and forge ahead. Too much of this, and you've stopped relating to others, stopped giving of yourself to others. It can become prideful, selfish hoarding rather than effective management of resources.

Nevertheless, I wish I possessed some greater alacrity with this skill. I am already the sort of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. I do my best to be sincere. Refraining from saying what is on my mind and heart is difficult, even when the best thing for the other person might be to just shut up. Unfortunately, my emotional control isn't nearly that well developed. I feel sometimes like a thin napkin holding a greasy hamburger, and the grease just soaks the napkin so much it turns clear. I feel like a tie-dye shirt, where the colors of all my emotions bleed together, everything tinting everything else around it until all you have is an eye-hurting blend of color which seems to lack any form or reason. Sounds a little bit like modern art (I hate modern art, though I like tie-dye shirts, so don't worry Andy.) And I'm not really sure what the benefits to such a condition are. Perhaps sincerity and giving my heart comes easier to me than others. I don't know, because people with superior emotional control seem to be better able to do these things than I. There are so many times I wish I could just pack this or that color into a box and toss it. Nay, incinerate it. Perhaps that's the benefit. Maybe compartmentalizers end up with basements filled with old boxes they've never dealt with, and have to have a lawn sale every few years, lest they become too cluttered to move around in. Their basements are the scary ones. Mine is just messy.

Priorities

What am I here for?

Seriously, why am I here? What am I doing on this earth, and where am I going? Have I really seriously thought about these questions, and taken the steps to really focus on getting the answers? Its not as if these questions haven't been on my heart. They've burned in my heart, and I've agonized over them, to the point of falling into depression. So what's wrong then?

Priorities.

What have I set as my priorities? I say to all of my friends, "I believe I am called to marriage." But what does this really mean? I talk so much about the greatness of this vocation, but do I really know what I'm saying when I preach about it? To some degree, maybe yes. I absolutely adore family life. I absolutely adore children. I am deeply committed to the respect and integration of the entire human person, body and soul, and am a disciple of the theology of the body. I firmly believe that the Church's teaching on marriage and family life expresses an indescribable fullness of this vocation. So in this sense, yes, I believe I am ready for marriage. I know what is right and I know what marriage is for. I am under no delusions about this. So my problem isn't a theological one.

My problem is more emotional. Lets face it. Puberty was not a happy time for me. Highschool was not a vast playing field of intimate dating relationships. I've been rejected more times than I care to count. And what has this resulted in? My entire life, from the moment I looked at a girl and thought something other than "yuck, cooties," I have longed for a relationship. For intimacy, to be loved. As I grew, I matured, I became committed to my faith and I realized that love was so much more than sex. And yet still I desired. I ached. And felt alone, and in the not so secret part of my soul, unworthy of love.

Then I got into my first serious relationship. I instantly glued my heart to this girl, and not with elmers, but with fast-dry epoxy. For anyone who has experience with this crap, it does NOT come off easily. Onto her I pinned all my hopes for happiness, all my dreams. At last, at last, I had fulfillment. I was worthy, I wasn't lonely anymore.

Can anyone guess where this story ends up? We broke up. And with that, my heart left a significant portion of itself behind with that glue. It was a large wound, and took the better part of a year to heal. And so I continued to grow, and mature more. I liked a few women, and nothing developed. I felt the old pain, and the old wondering, "Am I good enough?"

Recently I have undergone a transforming experience of grace. No longer am I plagued with this question, am I good enough? At last, I am freed from the chains of self-deprecation, and at last I know the love of my Lord toward me. And now what am I to do with this love? I am no longer the boy who believed himself not good enough. But old habits die hard, and not loving one's self easily translates into not trusting God, especially when one cannot see how God can love one such as I. And so I come to priorities. What am I searching for? Am I going to continue to be the boy who is afraid of loneliness? Or will I trust in the love of my Lord? Will I recognize that He has placed me here for a purpose, and given me precious time in which to accomplish His Will? Where should I spend my energy then? Into worrying about whether I'll ever share my life with someone? Or preparing for the possibility of sharing my life with someone, that I might truly give myself? And this is the priority I must set. I must trust my God. And focus on the tasks he has placed before me. How am I to be a father if I have no career? How am I to teach my children about Jesus if I do not know Him intimately? This will be my new focus. I will seek my vocation, and seek His face. If I am called to marriage then I must prepare for it, and I can only do this by becoming the man He has called me to be. Anything less will not do. Those of you who pray, please pray for me in this new endeavor of mine. An endeavor of faith, hope, and charity. Those of you who don't, wish me luck. I'm going to take whatever is left of that epoxy, and bind my heart where it belongs. "Here's my heart Lord, take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above."

*A good friend suggested I connect the epoxy imagery at the end. This was not my own thought.
*Epoxy is great for modeling. It works by mixing two substances together and then applying to the bonding surface. You can get a tube for about five bucks at a hardware store. Pretty expensive, but if you want your stuff to stick then it works.

Riches

I have been given such beautiful friends. My heart feels squeezed to think of them. I especially love my friends Tony Seda and Tim Baldwin. Tony talks more, he is "louder" with his faith, he speaks with fire and passion and the man has suffered so much and it has turned him into gold. I don't know Tim as well, but this is because he is quieter. He is simple and has a great heart, his quietness is a perfect complement to Tony's personality. Together the two are beautiful. They have not gotten to know me in the normal way, we've spent very little time together in each other's presence. And yet they extend to me the love of Christ without any reserve. I feel completely comfortable with them. I cannot go on in many words about them because...I just don't want to. I just want to appreciate them, and what God has made of them. They are true men. They are hidden saints. Blessed be He for what He has done in them; they have done nothing on their own!
I have been given my parents, whose generosity knows no bounds, who are so cool about the toughest stuff, and this is such a turn-around from when I was a kid. The compassion and faith of my parents threatens to bring tears to my eyes. I love them. Blessed be He for what He has done in them; they have done nothing on their own!
I have been given my grandmother. Her faith is constant, her prayers are constant. I know her now not only as Gramma but as the woman she is. I am so grateful that in this the sunset of her life I have been granted to know her not as a child knows but as an adult knows. Her faith is simple and quiet. Her natural impulse is to pray for others. She delights in simple things. She speaks French. Blessed be He, for what He has done in her; she has done nothing on her own!
I have been given Theresa. Her sense of humor is a paragon of wit. Her mind is sharp as a razor and her faith is of iron. She loves being Catholic. She is so much like me, we think in very similar ways. Though our friendship is new, it is precious. Our minds are like two instruments tuned to one another. Her family is beautiful. They sing together. They love the Lord, and they love each other. Blessed be He for what He has done in them; they have done nothing on their own!
I have been given Lisa. Of her my heart could sing. Her simplicity dazzles me. She is like a child in all that she does, and yet her great maturity makes her the most striking woman. Her faith is powerful, her love as of fire. We are so different. I am always excited to be with her. She always impresses me with something new. Sometimes, I feel I can only stand in awe of her. Blessed be He, for what He has done in her; she has done nothing on her own!
These are the friends who have been most active in my life in the past month. I love all of my friends with fervor. These ones stand on my heart in this moment. For whoever is reading this, know that in a true friend, you will see the love of Christ. It is so beautiful that it makes your heart burn. I'm big on being physical, so I will say my chest actually feels tingly, tight, and hot when I experience this love so freely offered. Do I wish to see the love of my Lord? Do I wish to know even a tiny facet of His love? Let me see Him reflected in my friends. The only prayer worth making for myself in this moment is that my heart would be seared by such love and that with my whole being I would turn to Him. Let my whole being be His, for how far I am from Him! How little I truly desire His will! Truly...I am a rich man.

The Clone Wars

A friend asked me a great question today. "As a dedicated Star Wars fan, do you think the new animated Clone Wars movie is good, or do you think this falls more into the category of the Star Wars Christmas special?" My answer was long enough to blog about.

I am wicked excited about the movie, even though it is animated. I have never seen the Christmas special all the way through, but from what I've heard, and seen, it really really is crap. Now I know the Christmas special was designed to keep up interest between episodes IV and V. That was its only purpose. The Clone Wars movie has much more foundation, and here's why:

1. The Clone Wars is a topic that every Star Wars fan has wondered about ever since it was cryptically mentioned on May 25, 1977 (the release date for episode IV), when Princess Leia's hologram said to Obi-Wan Kenobi "Years ago you fought with my father in the Clone Wars." What are these mysterious "clone wars"? How to they affect the story of Star Wars? The rise of the Empire? The fall of the Jedi? So its a really hot topic.

2. Since Episode II came out, there has been much merchandising which capitalizes from the Clone Wars. There are many comics. There are many novels. The characters of Boba and Jango Fett have been really played up, especially by author Karen Traviss. There are games. And, there was a cartoon series aired on Cartoon Network a few years back which covered the period of the Clone Wars. It was done by the same animator who did Dexter's Laboratory. It was like a series of twenty 10 minute shorts, or something like that. Its these cartoons that the animated movie is based on. The animation isn't intended to reflect real life, if you look you'll notice it looks like a CGI cartoon; its based from the cartoon's style of animation.

3. CGI and special effects technology are mind boggling today. Movies are phenomenal. I'd go see it just for the CGI.

4. It develops the character of Anakin Skywalker. Star Wars, as Lucas himself admits, is Anakin's story. So anything which shows him in detail is attractive.

So with all that, there is a much larger fan base for the Clone wars and it stands on its own as a story which fits into the whole saga, rather than simply trying to say "so, while you're waiting for Empire Strikes Back, here's what is going on in Luke's life!" That is why the Clone Wars movie is going to rock and the Christmas special flopped like a pancake.

House of Cards

A thought crossed my mind which scared me. The thought that perhaps all this change which is going on in me is not permanent. Perhaps it is all just the result of emotional turmoil from the situation I am going through. A rock has been thrown into my pond and the mud is all stirred up on the bottom. Will it all just settle down, covering the rock, and everything looks the same? Is this change for real, or does it have all the integrity and permanence of a house of cards? I told God that I would be willing to go through anything if it meant that the lessons I've learned, the faith I've gained, the trust I've placed in Him, would not disappear like the morning mist. I consider these things more precious than anything in my life. I pray that I would be really a new Shawn. That people would look at me and see a difference, see the change, the joy, the confidence. I never want to be the way I was again. Let this growth be etched upon my heart, never to be defaced.

Do not underestimate the Force.

I just thought of something which I wanted to post up here. One of the interesting things about the Force in Star Wars, is that really what it boils down to is the human soul. Imagine the intricacies of the human soul; love, hate, hurt, desire. The Force takes those things, and asks the question, “What if we had absolute power to act on those things? What if I had the power to bend someone to my will with a simple wave of my hand? What if I had the power to keep a mortally wounded friend alive purely by the force of my will? What if I had the power to break those who hurt me? Who opposed me? To reach out with my mind and crush away their life? It’s a question of the soul, but imagines “what if we had the power…” I thank God we don’t have that power. We would be gods, and therefore, would be demons.

A Knight of Christ

Recent experiences are certainly teaching me about the value of the cross, and offering up suffering. I feel I am growing closer to Christ in this period of trial, though I pray I would not turn back to my former lack of devotion and unbelief once everything clears up. Yesterday a good friend gave me something very precious to her, the brown scapular. I am still learning about it. Here is a good link to an article on EWTN about it.

http://www.ewtn.com/library/Prayer/zbrwnscap.HTM

I'm beginning to think that the crusader scapular is a devotion to which my heart is specially molded. The devotion is Carmelite; one of my best friends is deeply formed by Carmelite spirituality and she wears it, as does my friend Kim now. John of the Cross and Theresa of Avila, Therese of Lisieux, and several other Carmelite saints are all somehow involved in my spiritual journey. Through this scapular I feel a special communion with these great saints and doctors of the Church.
The devotion is Marian. This is huge. My spiritual life began in earnest with the Rosary. The Blessed Mother brought my dad back to the Faith and preserves my family in it. She is beautiful, and I am loathe to admit that in my heart some hesitation still exists to fully abandon myself into her matronly arms. A good friend from home once said to me, "As you grow in your relationship with Jesus and Mary, you realize that there is no difference." Now before all my beloved protestant friends freak out, no, this is not a canonization of Mary as the 4th member of a Holy Quaternity. What it means is that her beautiful, perfectly created and preserved human soul (and body, too, b/c of the Assumption), is in such union with Christ that to speak to one is to automatically be drawn to the other. Mary draws us lovingly and tenderly to Our Lord, saying "Do whatever He tells you." (John 2:5) She helps us to stand at the foot of the Cross, as she did. And Our Lord in turn says to us, "Behold your mother." (John 19:27) I don't know what I'd do without her love, so graciously given to us by Christ to lead us to him. She is Mother of all Christians. I pray that by devotion to this scapular, I may truly, in a concrete way, be united with her. That my hesitation would cease and that I would finally open my heart to the streams of grace which pour down from Heaven from Our Lord.

The scapular itches slightly. It is supposed to. Its not at all annoying, I just have to reach up every once in a while to adjust it, and every time I do, I am reminded.

But this scapular isn't your average scapular. Its tricked out with the Crusader Cross. It is a simple gold colored cross with little flanges on the ends, woven into the fabric. This tradition hearkens back to the Crusades. The Crusades started simply with the idea of armed pilgrimage. In the Middle Ages, it was extremely dangerous for a traveler to attempt the long and arduous journey from the Christian West to the Holy Land. Thugs and robbers abounded. Islam encroached (no, I am not pegging the Muslims, but history does show much aggression between them and and Christendom, on both sides). If you wanted to get to the Holy Land in one piece, you'd best be packing a well victualed caravan and some serious medieval heat. It soon developed into full scale attempts on the part of Christendom to liberate the Holy Land from Islamic control and open it up to the faithful. The first Crusade began as a call for aid by Byzantine Emperor Alexius I Comnenus to defend the East from Turkish incursion. It resulted in the capture of Jerusalem. It was the only "successful" crusade, in that it established Christian control in the Holy Land. All the other ones after that tanked in variously spectacular ways. The worst was probably the 4th Crusade, when all the Latins decided "Hey everybody, lets change direction and sack Constantinople instead! Waaahhhg!" Yeah, good job Latin West, you know the East is still p/o'ed about that right? But I digress.

When a knight or a peasant responded to the call to go on Crusade, he was given a Cross of rough fabric and it was sewn onto his garment. In this way the soldier literally "took the Cross" of Christ. Crusade was arduous, difficult, and many died of disease before even seeing combat. It was truly considered a penance and a trial to take up the Cross for Christ to defend his people. That is why the Church attached indulgences to it. For me, I find it very appealing to my masculinity. A soldier of Christ. By taking up the Cross, I can unite my sufferings to Christ's and bring redemption and grace to the world. I can respond to the call of my Lord to take up my Cross and follow him. It feels like a sacred duty, what it really means to be human, but especially, because of the soldier aspect, to be a Christian man. That I am a soldier in the Army of Our Lord, bearing His standard upon my breast. And that I am marked with the mantle of Our Lady, and she goes with me in my journey, my quest. Its all very chivalrous, but I think there's something right and good and holy about that.

Old Rugged Cross

A hymn I find inspiring. Have I mentioned I am a sucker for Protestant hymn tradition?

1.      On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,

        the emblem of suffering and shame;

        and I love that old cross where the dearest and best

        for a world of lost sinners was slain.

Refrain:

        So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,

        till my trophies at last I lay down;

        I will cling to the old rugged cross,

        and exchange it some day for a crown.

2.      O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,

        has a wondrous attraction for me;

        for the dear Lamb of God left his glory above

        to bear it to dark Calvary.

        (Refrain)

3.      In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,

        a wondrous beauty I see,

        for 'twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,

        to pardon and sanctify me.

        (Refrain)

4.      To that old rugged cross I will ever be true,

        its shame and reproach gladly bear;

        then he'll call me some day to my home far away,

        where his glory forever I'll share.

        (Refrain)

Joy and Sorrow

Something happened today, and even now I am in tears. Really, I am crying out loud, there is snot running down my face and my throat is dry. And yet...it is in this moment that I realize how far I have come...I only hope that my words can describe what it is I mean, because in all my life I have wished that I could express myself, really express myself. I will not say what has happened, though the reader is free to guess, simply because I am too ashamed. With all the feelings I have within me, shame is not an insignificant one.
I feel that I truly realize the meaning of "God chastises the one's whom he loves." Never before in my life have I understood this in my heart, I always felt something twisted like "If things are going well, it must be that God isn't chastizing me, and therefore doesn't love me." Or, when things are going bad, it was "God is punishing me for my sins." The implication there-in was that God was angry and vindictive, simply trading hurt for hurt, as I have done, many times. And this, I see now, has nothing to do with Our Father in Heaven. It is truly, in all its crappiness, a moment of grace for me, and the deepest prayer of my heart is that this experience would not leave me unchanged. It is the greatest fear of my heart...I feel the tightness in my chest at the mere thought of it, that I, once I begin to feel better, will go back to my former self. That I will be left unchanged, and that all of this would have been for nothing. But even so, my fear is not of useless suffering (though that would truly be awful), but that of truly remaining unchanged. Holiness, and maturity of the soul, are the only things which really matter in this life. It is the essence of what it is to be human; to be like Christ. In holiness and maturity we learn love, we learn sacrifice, we learn self control; all of these things make us fitting citizens for heaven. Blessed be He that He has not spared me these lessons! Pray that He may never spare me these lessons, but that His dealings with me would always be tempered by His Mercy! My Jesus, let me not go unchanged, I beg this of you. It seems for my whole life, I have longed for some sort of milestone. Some sort of conversion experience, or defining moment. Could it be that at last it has arrived, in all its bitterness? And yet, AND YET, and this is the astounding, amazingly funny part, because my faith has told me this all these years and still I have not believed, it is this bitterness that the greatest blessings can come! As my dear friend Anja has said before, "Cling to the rugged wood of the cross, and in its shadow you will find sweetness and honey." (God bless her!) Hope...that is something I feel...not despair. Not the familiar cloud of self loathing and fear of all the worst things that could happen, the familiar down-ward spiral of negative thoughts which land in the ultimate, seemingly inevitable conclusion of a life of misery ended with damnation. How strange, that in my life, when things were best, I felt at my worst, and now, at their worst, I realize that indeed, the grace of my Lord is with Me, that his name is Faithful and True.

Living at the mercy of the needle...

At the behest of my new friend Lisa, I have decided to give blogging a shot. I originally thought I would write some long extended musing simply about the nature of blogging, but when I got into my car to drive home from Lititz I was struck with an all too familiar situation. My gas needle. Every morning, indeed, everytime I get into my car, I observe its little position. I look nervously between it and my tripometer reading, hoping that this time around, my car is getting unusually good mileage. I have a little system in my head; if the tripometer reaches 150 miles by the time the needle reaches halfway, then I am pleased. I try and divide my tank into fractions by the lines on the meter. I am constantly doing this little math. But this is not all! My needle likes to play tricks with me! Foolish thing that it is...it will stay hovering around a given line for a day, maybe two, doing its little dance with the waves in my tank. Uphill always means a fuller tank. Downhill means empty. How I wish I could drive uphill most of the time...but on average, it will stay around whatever level its at. Just when I begin to get comfortable, and expect that it is dropping at a steady, efficient rate, BAM! I turn on my car, and there is my needle, hovering an 8th of a tank below the point it was when I turned the car off. Laughing at me. "You thought I was 3 quarters full? Haha! Just kidding!" Horrible images of a slight hole in my gas tank, soft tires, and weight in my trunk plague me. All because of the price of gas. All because of my lack of funds. I find myself cursing my car's poor mileage, and feeling fear that my car may not even get 20 miles to the gallon. I suppress a shudder. I must remind myself that I have been given much, indeed, the CAR was given to me. I once asked a wise man what would happen to me if gas went to 5 or 6 dollars a gallon. He said to me, "You? You are going to trust that no matter what, God is going to provide you with everything you need to do his will." I know that this truth should put an end to my little game with the needle. But it is difficult. And the needle just keeps dropping.