Month: March 2013

Easter Sunday: The Journey Continues

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I spent this morning at my first Easter Mass. It is also my last one as a non-Catholic, and I think that weighs on me in both good ways and difficult ways. I’m very attached to the Father’s homilies. He has a way of speaking that is both soothing and comforting and also firm. He has a way of getting his message through to you in that lovely, gentle way. Whether I agree or not with every one of his homilies, he is consistent in his tone and basic message, and he has a way of bringing a caring place to every conversation. He uses a lot of anecdotes and humor in his sermons and it is in those that I can see myself. I can relate with both sadness and joy depending on the emotion pulled up with his words, and of course, think about things and make plans of action as realization takes hold in my mind.

Today, of course, the Gospel was of John and he compared it with the other three Gospels. John had faith; he just believed. He didn’t ask where Jesus was when the burial tomb was empty; he simply knew that His words had come to pass.

Faith is one thing that I am consistently lacking. I have a friend like John, who leads his life by faith. I look to him for my inspiration when things go horribly wrong or wonderfully well. What would my friend do? Would he moan and complain about it as I would do? No, he wouldn’t. His example made me ready to hear Jesus’ words and really listen. When the Father spoke about a Red Steamer Trunk, and too many things in it, I easily saw myself. I like my things. They don’t have to be fancy things, but the important things mean a lot to me. My frog, Bob. My friend’s tea cup. The rock from Dolwyddelan Castle. The cross I received from the church on the first Sunday of Lent. The picture of my kids, and the note from my husband telling me everything would be alright. Except for the tea cup, these travel with me everywhere, every day. The story of the red steamer trunk made me think about the rest of my things that I have, but that aren’t as important and I’ve tried to make some decisions based on whether I want to carry a heavy oversized trunk that I will never use everything in or a smaller backpack where everything is a necessity.

It’s hard to change a lifetime of habits.

It’s hard to walk away from things that were once so very important to my daily existence; my emotional safe places. But they were binding; trapping me in layers upon layers of someone else’s important.

The very first homily I heard from Fr. J was on May 7, 2012. He was just back from his sabbatical in Rome. I wasn’t sure I liked him. He was different from the other priest who I’d grown accustomed to in the previous two months. But I took a deep breath and I gave him a chance.

He talked about his visit to Rome, the places he visited, the places he prayed, the Pope and other things that moved him. He reminded me of how I speak of Wales and I was drawn in by that comparison right away.

He began then to talk about the spirit. I know he meant the Holy Spirit, but how many of us who do not follow the tenets of the Catholic Church believe in fate and destiny and something like a spirit that moves us in one direction or another. It’s really not such a foreign thing. I’ve always believed in that and in something bigger than me. And so, when he began to talk about the spirit moving him, I felt the spirit, the one that brought me to the church in the first place, the subconscious poke, a light at the end of the tunnel for me, and as I continue to follow it, it is still hard to form the words around the feelings.

Halfway through this service I was crying – it was so emotional on a subconscious level.

Today was much different. Part of that is the different place I’m in. My brain chemicals are stabilized mostly. I have some goals for the rest of the year. I have a stronger faith and a spiritual goal as well. As I finish my first Lent, I’m pleased with myself. I did not ‘cheat’ once, although I did accidentally have a tiny bit of bacon mixed into a tasting on a Friday. And the cheating is only on me; no one else cares if I ‘made it through’. But I do care. I struggled very little in the last forty days, and I think a lot of that had to do with my reason for abstaining.

I did it for me, and only me. I didn’t do it because someone said I needed to, or because I had to, or because I should. I did it because of the deeper meaning behind abstaining and keeping the fasting days, because I believed in where I was going and this was one way of cleansing myself before the Easter.

This was also the first year that I understood why Easter is a happy holiday. Realizing that it is not a celebration of Jesus’ death (that is commemorated on Good Friday), but a celebration of His eternal life in heaven through His Resurrection. It sounds so simple now.

No one explained it to me, but attending the Masses up until today, and reading the extra things that I had been reading, it brought a greater understanding and commitment to the church for me.

Today was children laughing, wailing about the long service, wheelchairs, crowded pews, bright light, candles, colorful banners, music and instruments, trumpets and violins, the choir loud and proclaiming, hands given in peace and love, hugs, warmth washing over, and above all, the true meaning before I go home to chocolate eggs and a turkey to be put in the oven with kids searching for Bigfoot in the woods and a teenager calling home and actually wanting to speak to his parents and siblings.

It is a good day.

And so I do what I’ve been doing daily since Lent began, and what I’ve tried to do practically since I was born: Write.

I posted about my success these last forty days, but the success isn’t only in the numbers (which surprised and impressed me), but in the daily. In the needing to. In the pen to paper and clattering of keyboard.

I know that a lot of my writing this month has been either faith based or Supernatural, and it is actually surprising that they really do go hand in hand, at least in my mind. I won’t bring too much of the show into this now, but one of my loves for the show is its metaphor and of course, it’s take on some religious mythos. It says some of what that I’m afraid to say, but it also lets me think.

Still, I’ve always been one to hide my faith and I find that similarity in Dean Winchester. Wanting it, but not quite believing it. Needing something, but seeing things that contradicted that faith. Keeping a talisman because it’s the only thing he has to believe in.

Whether I was afraid to admit to being Jewish when Jewish was different or not wanting to bring it up when there are other more religious Jews in attendance (or in a chat room) because I feel judged (and never by them, but the feelings are still there). I grew up doing things so much differently than even my cousins who lived next door. Now, part of that were our parents’ ages. My cousins’ parents were my mother’s aunt and uncle, and so they were from a more religious generation. But I was raised in a very follow the traditions household. We changed our plates for Passover, but we didn’t throw away all of the bread. Bread went into the freezer and we didn’t eat it, even when we would eat out. (Wendy’s is a good place for Passover – great salads, no croutons.)

I didn’t like being different, especially when I was supposed to be the same.

We observed all of the big holidays and some of the smaller ones. We didn’t go to services, but we celebrated Chanukah, lighting two menorahs – one electric and one candlelit. We didn’t say the prayers on the side of the candle box, but we didn’t get a Christmas tree even when Christmas crossed the threshold into secular American holiday and all of the children were dating Catholics.

I still don’t like to stand out, but turning forty-five clicked an off button for me, and now that I’ve gotten it back on, sorted out (at least in diagnosis) my medical-mental health problems, fell into the deepest pit I’d ever been in and then pulled out, and had life turn upside down for friends, I’ve started to speak out.

I’ve started to stand up. And the church is part of that, both in the turning the switch back on and in giving me something to think about and write about and feel.

When I started going to church, I hid it from everyone except my therapist and my Facebook. The thirty people on Facebook were my support system, prodding me, encouraging me, hugging me, and they guided me through last spring as I found my way along the catacombs of a new religious feeling.

Being told by the priest that Jesus had been Jewish and I was welcome in His house was overwhelming and so devoid of the usual condescension that statement is usually attached to when spoken to me (at other times by other people). He never asked me to be Catholic. Not once. Of course, he was very happy when I came to him, but I had been attending Mass daily with him for more than seven months at that time. I didn’t, but I could talk to him. I was received warmly by my fellow churchgoers. People who didn’t know me took my hand and introduced themselves to me. I didn’t feel strange asking questions. They never asked why I didn’t know very basic things.

When the Father would announce the opening hymn and sound like an announcer at the train station (Please turn to #53 in your Missalette, that’s #53, five, three, in the Missalette, #53), we would laugh together despite the feeling of irreverence. When he had a ‘private’ conversation with a parishioner with the mic on, we wondered if we should tell him, but soon realized that the conversation wasn’t private and the Father was having some fun with us.

From the first day, sitting in the pew in tears, I was warm with the feelings of the Spirit and Christ floating over me. And whatever else was going to happen, I was okay. I never stopped coming after that.

Easter is renewal. It is rebirth. It is the Resurrection. It is the reminder that all things are forgiven, and more importantly, not that I will be forgiven, but it gives me the strength to forgive those that have wronged me or the people I love. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

2013 is a new year for me. Things are clicking into place. (I hope.)

This Easter is my first real Easter. I understand it and I feel it, and my old life is gone, or at least it’s in a box in a corner of the room and I need to see what it is I want to bring forward with me into this new life without completely dismantling the old one.

These moments are meaningful; more meaningful than things used to feel. I put myself out there, much more than ever in my entire life. It’s scary. It’s new. I need to do it. It is part of my rebirth and the rest of this year is part of that journey. I will probably share it with you.

Forty Days of Writing

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2013-01-31 10.27.25

As I finish my first Lenten season, I decided that with two days left I would look over the writing commitment that I made for these forty days.

I was pretty impressed with myself, and while I will pat myself on the back, I want to recommit to writing more and consistently.

So far (and I hope to add to this before Monday), I’ve written 31 things – some essays, some random prompts, some fan fiction and meta analysis, some religious context. They break down as follows:

1 multi-vignette improv writing for a subfandom of the Harry Potter fandom (this is a quick fire, random prompts, write as many as you can in two – three hours. I wrote about 1600 words)
1 homework for my Memoir Workshop (this does not include the assignments in the class, only what I did outside of class)
4 Others – one was a writing resource for my class, one was a birthday letter to my friend that I shared here, one was a random prompt from my collection from Sarah Selecky and one was a riff on a jacket I found and how it made me feel.
16 either fan fiction or meta for the Supernatural fandom

Total words: 33,137!

The theme for this season’s Memoir workshop is transformation, something that you know I have been going through for a long time now and expect to continue to go through for a while to come, so I am very excited for not only the in class prompts, but for the homework as well. I expect to share most of that here.

ETA: 4/1/13: Including my last writing for the Lenten season (Easter Sunday: The Journey Continues), my word total is: 35,179. I am very pleased and hope to keep it up.

Reflections for this Holy Week

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I wanted to write something for the reflection for my church’s blog on March 26th (yesterday), but the words aren’t coming as easily as I had expected (or wanted) them to. I chose today’s date because it was one that was very significant to me.

One year ago today I began attending daily Mass during the week. It kind of came about accidentally, but in the last year, I’ve discovered that nothing is accidental.

Every day that I attended, I discovered something new about the Lord, the church and myself.

For one thing, I became calmer. I wasn’t looking for it, but it was a definite change in my mindset.

It began on my drives to church in the mornings. They had the effect of washing away the troubles and the bad part of the last night and the morning. I wasn’t trying to get rid of it, but my mind would clear itself and when I arrived at the church door, I was ready for whatever message was coming my way.

For another thing, more likely than not there was a question in my mind, a struggle, something that I needed help with and had nowhere to go, and nine times out of ten, the answer was there in the Mass. If it wasn’t in the Gospel or the Responsorial, it was in the homily.

As a child and young person growing up, I wasn’t Catholic, so the few times I would attend church for friends, for weddings or funerals, it was awkward. I was awkward. I understood nothing, I never knew when to stand, when to sit, when my eyes should be open or closed. How did everyone know what to say and when? I was uncomfortable whenever Jesus was mentioned.

However, from my first day here at Mass, I wasn’t awkward. I wasn’t looked at strangely. I was welcomed. I felt welcomed. My questions were welcomed. No one cared that I wasn’t Catholic, and they went out of their way to explain anything to me that I asked about. I was allowed to explore my faith and myself and the pieces of the church that I had never seen before or been exposed to, and discovered much more than a place to rest my depression or simply a place to go.

I still didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t matter. I stood when the person in front of me stood, and sat when they sat. When they turned to shake my hand, I shook theirs, and in that moment of touch, it was like a bolt of lightning. I felt my face alight with a smile and joy filled my soul and I looked forward to that touch every day; the connection as our eyes met, our hands met. I would close my hand and keep that touch in there for as long as I could. It gave me energy. It gave me hope. It gave me promise and purpose and love. And I held it close.

When I would forget, I could just close my hand and it would be back again.

One year ago I took refuge in the pews of the church, usually empty save for me or the occasional visit by the grounds keeper. Before I began attending the Masses, I would just sit and read the daily prayers in the Missal. I was lost and at a loss and just in the sitting and talking to G-d, I found something. I hadn’t realized it at the time; it took several months to realize how important my mornings with G-d meant to me and how they changed me in a positive way.

In the year since that first day, I have found many more readings that fit into my daily life and give me guidance and a hand to hold when I’m feeling alone.

Mass is not an obligation to me. I look forward to the Mass. And I’m never alone.

I have this deeper understanding of who Jesus Christ was and is and where He fits into my life. It is more comfort than I think I have ever felt.

 

The beginning of today’s Psalm reminds me of why I started coming and why I come nearly every day:

In you, O LORD, I take refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
In your justice rescue me, and deliver me;
incline your ear to me, and save me.
R. I will sing of your salvation.

 

 

It’s the Last Sunday Before Holy Week

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G-d is the G-d of second chances—or third or fourth or as many as we need.

This Lent, stop kicking yourself. Move on and make the best of today.

 Lord, I make no excuses for my past, but I don’t want to be bound by it either. Lord, set me free to move on.

(Connery, Fr. Thomas (2012-12-09). Traveling Light – Spirited Reflections and Prayers for the Days of Lent (Kindle Locations 656-657). Creative Communications for the Parish. Kindle Edition.)

John 8:11 – Neither do I condemn you.

Communion Antiphon –

Has no one condemned you, woman? No one, Lord.

Neither shall I condemn you. From now on, sin no more.

(John 8:101-11)

In the meditation (from The Word Among Us publication for March 17, 2013), we are reminded, “Jesus knows our sins far better than anyone else, even better than we know them. Still, he refuses to condemn us. It doesn’t move him one bit when others try to remind him (or us) of our failings.”

As most of you know, this is my first Lent. Since it is my first time, I’ve gone to several people in order to both do it right and make it meaningful for me. I was told that the act of giving something up isn’t simply to suffer, but to trade something that we enjoy and think we can’t live without for G-d and Faith and what is really important to us.

For me, I’ve been talking about writing and writing since I was a little kid. Some of it is bad. Some of it is so good I can’t believe I write it. One of the things the Internet has given me is a platform. A platform to share, to get feedback, to meet people and to share my thoughts, my feelings and to thank the people who help me on a daily basis. I try to do that, and in the last year, I am a better person and I am grateful for that, to G-d, to the friends who’ve stood with me and supported me and shown me what true friendship is as I now find my true faith.

What I had decided to do in addition to giving something meaningful up, I added a few things into my life. I was asked the other day about how giving up my diet soda and favorite scone treat was going, and I admitted rather reluctantly that it was going surprisingly easy; easier than I expected. I’ve missed neither except for a couple of times that I wanted a soda and then reminded myself why I wasn’t drinking them, and I was fine.

I did go from 5-6 12oz. cans of diet Coke a day to ZERO. Cold turkey. I replaced it with green tea in the morning and water throughout the day with very occasional visits to Starbucks.

I attend the daily Mass three days a week and I’ve been trying to attend Sunday Mass (which I will continue for the next two Sundays).

I had a chance with Lent to remind myself of my New Year’s resolutions, one of which was to increase and be more consistent in my writings of all subjects: fan fiction, non-fiction, memoir, my spiritual journey of the last year and anything else that springs to my mind. I’ve certainly been better than last year, but I still need work, and so for Lent, one of the things that I promised myself was to do more writing, ideally on a daily basis: one faith based writing and one writing about anything else.

Unfortunately that hasn’t happened as easily as I would have liked and last week brought my second bout of a deeper depression than I’ve experienced since I’ve been on the medication. I know it’s a recovery process and there will be times like this, but it’s not easy and I’m still not out of last week’s; there is a mound to climb over and with my friend’s birthday looming (I’ll write more about her on Tuesday), it is just not an easy week.

They’re not for everyone, but I stick to my rituals and they help. I get up in the morning and I have my ‘kindle things’. I check the free app of the day because Free is Good. I check the overnight onslaught of Tumblr, which is usually good for a few smiles. I check my Facebook. Even if I don’t do anything else in the daily routine, I do those and I read two things: the day’s Scripture/Mass from The Word Among Us and the day’s entry in Traveling Light by Father Thomas Connery, which is a book of reflections and prayers to be read during Lent. My church gave these out with a small cross at the beginning of the Lenten season.

These five things are an always for me. They set my day. Some days, the scripture readings are just readings, the next day in a succession in the life and teachings of Jesus, and a reminder to stay on your path, but some days (remarkably more often than not), they speak very specifically to something I’ve been dealing with, something I’ve been praying on, something I need counsel for, and somehow, despite all of the belief and the comfort, I am still surprised when G-d knows exactly what I need and when I need to hear it.

Today was one of those mornings.

NASA has a Tumblr! ETA: April 14, 2013

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I just found out that this is NOT an official NASA tumblr. It is a fan site that posts photos and other information. It still looks interesting and the content seems to be exactly what I thought it was, but since I recommended it, I wanted to mention that it is not official in case something offensive gets posted there in the future.

I will continue to follow them.

NASA Tumblr

I grew up in the 70s and 80s.

It is family lore that I watched the Moon Landing. (I have an Uncle Neil and an Uncle Buzzy, and I was a confused toddler).

I went to Cape Canaveral, although I think it was the John F. Kennedy Space Center when I went there. I may even still have the stuffed Astronaut doll from back then.

I was born the same year as Star Trek.

I used to have the Tribble episode memorized and could recite it verbatim from any point in the script.

Space is not only the final frontier, it is a home place for me, a belonging place. Space: 1999, Logan’s Run, Lost in Space, Star Wars (the last film my family went to as a family), Firefly, any and all space voyages, it was all I wanted was to be an Astronaut.

It’s crazy and an impossible dream, but television made it kind of possible.

I watched shuttle launches instead of working.

I remember the Challenger and the Columbia. My grandfather had a framed and signed picture of the Apollo 13 astronauts.

NASA has a Tumblr.

Go there and be amazed.

The Liebster Award

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I want to thank Joan Frankham, who nominated me for the Liebster Award, a recognition for bloggers who are ‘up and coming’, and have less than 200 followers (I did at the time), or whose blog has just been published recently. Joan was recently retired and is writing about her traveling and her adventures in her retirement. You can find her at http://joanfrankham.wordpress.com/category/liebster-award/

In accepting the nomination, I am required to:
1. Tell 11 things about yourself
2. Answer 11 questions asked by the nominating blogger
3. Nominate 11 new bloggers
4. Ask 11 questions to the bloggers you nominated, and
5. Inform the bloggers you choose

11 Things About Me
1. I’m married and have three children, aged 7-16
2. My music preference is alternative. I listen to music that is either 20 years old or 20 minutes old.
3. I’m terrified of water, but waterfalls sooth me.
4. I’m beginning the transition from Judaism to Catholicism; however, I will always be Jewish. You can’t change who you are deep inside.
5. I write fan fiction as well.
6. I dyed my hair red for a Halloween and discovered I should have always been a redhead.
7. My soul (or a past life) is Welsh. I am viscerally tethered to Wales.
8. My best friend will be 30 this summer. When I was 30, I had my first child. Age is just a number.
9. I’m passionate about a few things, but I can’t express it in words the way I’d like, so I write.
10. I’ve only recently discovered how to balance a laptop on my lap. I had never quite mastered it before and always used a table and chair.
11. I’ve recently begun talking about my depression openly, something I’ve been criticized (or at the very least questioned about). I think it’s important for people who have depression or other mental health issues to not be stigmatized.

Answer 11 questions from the person who nominated you
1. Tell us something you have learnt recently
I’ve discovered that I don’t miss soda as much as I thought I would.
2. What is the best experience you have had, and what made it so?
This is a hard one. Working for the Navy in their child development program and traveling alone in Wales. They were both probably the experiences that taught me the most, both in general terms and about myself.
3. Who or what got you in to blogging?
JK Rowling and Harry Potter. I was more upset at how George was left than that Fred died (although Fred dying was very upsetting to me) and I began to write fan fiction. From there, I began to journal about my day and do memes and so on and so here I am.
4. How many countries have you lived in, and which one was the best?
I’ve only lived in the United States. I don’t think I would leave here, but I wouldn’t mind spending much of the year traveling and have a second house/cottage in North Wales.
5. What is the beauty product you can’t live without?
Hmm……I don’t use many. Probably Oil of Olay face cloths, although I wish they still made the anti-aging ones. I think they were stronger than their regular ones and have used them for years (long before I would consider anything anti-aging.)
6. If you could choose any place in the world to live, where would it be, and why?
As I said above, I think I would stay in the US, and keep it as my home base while traveling.
7. How many languages do you speak, and what are they?
I only speak English. I tried to teach myself to speak Welsh and that kind of worked for a couple of years in a very limited capacity, but without anyone to practice with, it faded pretty quickly.
8. Tell me a favourite recipe that you can make really well?
I make pot roast and baked ziti that people always ask for. I also am good at Shepherd’s Pie.
9. What is the most scary thing you ever did?
Traveled to (and drove in) North Wales by myself.
10. What do you find most difficult about blogging?
Consistency.
11. Las Vegas or Aspen?
I think Las Vegas.

11 Blogs I nominate
1. Bohemian Heart: (http://bohoheart.com/)
2. A Life in the Day (http://saritzahernandez.blogspot.com/?zx=7d3585c4fb06f461)
3. EvilSlutopia (http://evilslutopia.com/)
4. http://andythanfiction.tumblr.com/
5. Do I Look Sick? (http://doilooksick.wordpress.com/)
6. Kensalfirehorse (http://kensalfirehorse.wordpress.com/2013/01/22/very-inspiring-blogger-award/)
7. Shackled and Crowned: (http://shackledandcrowned.wordpress.com/)
8. Change for a Year: (http://changeforayear.com/)
9. Traveling Chair: (http://travelingchair.wordpress.com/)
10. Chatty Owl: (http://chattyowl.com/)
11. Pastoral Postings: (http://pastoralpostings.wordpress.com/)

11 Questions for those nominees (I may actually answer these myself at another time)
1. Why did you start blogging?
2. What’s your ratio of fiction to non-fiction writing?
3. Do you LOVE or HATE social media and which is your favorite/least favorite one?
4. If you have children in the future, will you name them for family/friends or for fictional characters?
5. What’s the first book you remember reading and loving?
6. What was your favorite children’s show when you were a kid?
7. What is your favorite children’s show now?
8. Do you share your blog with your family or friends?
9. Name one hobby that you have and one that you wish you had.
10. What is your favorite book?
11. Stairs or Escalator?

Free Write: Prompt: A Footprint You Find in an Odd Spot

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My eight year old son has been a little crazy for Bigfoot lately. Every Sunday, he stays up until 11pm to watch the Animal Planet show, Finding Bigfoot. He has a notebook, and he takes notes on their expeditions, takes photos off of the TV with his camera, and has a team meeting in school with the other Bigfoot enthusiasts during lunch recess. They think there’s a Bigfoot hiding/living in the woods adjacent to their school.

The other day, well, let me say that I am a mythology fan-girl. My favorite animal is a griffin, and I’ve stopped apologizing for it. I do get strange looks, but I can’t help it. I love them. They’re strong and elegant and beautiful.

I also have a thing for Celts. Any and all, so when my son thought he was being very scientific when he stated what was obvious to him, he never expected Mom’s reaction which was pure disbelief that I’d raised such a heathen.

His statement?

He said (and keep in mind, he said this in an incredulous condescending, how could they be so stupid as to think way) that while Bigfoot was real – there were pictures and expeditions and look at the evidence – the Loch Ness Monster wasn’t real.

For one thing, it was a monster. For another thing, there were no pictures. For a third thing, as he turned up his nose, there’s no such thing. But Bigfoot….well, they were everywhere.

Sasquatch in Canada.

Yowie in Australia.

They didn’t eat cows, though. Do you know why? Cows belong to people and if they ate people’s cows, people would notice and hunt them. Makes sense.

There were no applicable legends or sightings related to the Loch Ness Monster.

I was appalled to say the least.

Every Sunday, he takes out his notebook; he adds the episode title to his list of episodes. I believe there are also numbers and dates, and he does this during the day with the onscreen cable guide so he doesn’t waste any time while the episode is on.

He is very organized.

I love to see his excitement. I was reminded this morning of my own ‘obsessions’ from my childhood. I loved detective stories and television shows. I used to watch Remington Steele, Moonlighting and when I was very young, The Rockford Files.

I wanted to be a detective. In the case of Jim Rockford, I wanted to drive a Camaro and live in a trailer, just not on the beach. I kept notebooks, and notes and quotations, and more than anything I think that is what influenced my longing to be a writer more than anything else. Those detective stories were the best and pushed my imagination further and further out and the notebooks gave me a place to store all of those dreams even if they weren’t called dreams.

And I see so much of that in my son. The enjoyment he gets from the show, from the mystery, from the note-taking and the investigation, the excitement of being part of something that is both on television, in real life and at school as he researches and discusses and extrapolates with his friends.