Tag Archives: faith

What Children’s Literature Heroines Can Teach You About Singlehood

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I know, I know. Where have I been? Life’s been pretty crazy, as I’ve finished my internship, moved back home and am leaving for France in TWO DAYS. But this is a topic I’ve been wanting to blog about for a long time, and I didn’t want to leave the country without sharing it with you.

This summer, I was on a “Pride and Prejudice” binge. I finally watched the critically acclaimed BBC adaptation, listened to the audiobook on repeat, and stayed up until 3 a.m. to finish reading “The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet” (based on the AWESOME web series.)

Then, all of a sudden, I got sick of it.

Yeah, I know, you’d think I would after the second go-through of a 10-hour audiobook. But it wasn’t the story or the characters or the writing that turned me off. It was Elizabeth Bennet: the strong, intelligent, and active female protagonist that all other strong, intelligent, and active female protagonists are measured against. She’s a fantastic character, but in the end, we all just want to see her and Darcy finally get together. I started wondering how Elizabeth might be different if Darcy wasn’t in the picture.

Then I thought of all of my other favorite strong, intelligent, and active female protagonists. No matter how independent they are, most of their journeys are ultimately defined by their romantic relationships. Emma Woodhouse. Hazel Grace Lancaster. Jane Eyre (my personal favorite). Even Katniss Everdeen, arguably one of the most kick-butt female protagonists of our time, is overshadowed by Peeta vs. Gale arguments. Why couldn’t any of these awesome ladies stand on their own? I thought about my favorite books from childhood: many of them had female protagonists, and almost none of them had a consistent love interest! You might think, “That’s cheating! They’re kids! They’re too young to be thinking about romance!” Precisely.

Remember that point in your life when it didn’t matter who liked whom, when you could just focus on being yourself? Guess what? You can and should still focus on you and your relationships with God, family, friends and the greater world.

In no particular order, here are my top 10 female protagonists who don’t need no man:

1. Sara Crewe from “A Little Princess” (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Lesson: You have the dignity and worth of royalty, regardless of your past or your present situation. 

The whole ‘princess’ image has gotten a lot of flack in the past few decades. But Burnett nailed the idea of a feminist princess way before Disney could mess it up. Sure, Sara Crewe is rich, pampered, and elegant at the beginning of the story, and when her clothes and possessions aren’t enough to win affection, she has her intelligence, kindness and knack for storytelling to speak for her. She’s likable enough. But what makes this novel so fascinating and well-loved is Sara’s inner transformation after her father’s death leaves her penniless. When her outward beauty and wealth is gone, Sara develops her inner wealth — the grace, compassion, and composure found in real royal figures like the Duchess of Cambridge. These qualities become her more than any pink silk dress ever could.

“‘Whatever comes,’ she said, ‘cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it.'”

2. Mary Lennox from “The Secret Garden” (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Lesson: Friendship is healing, even if your friends are boys!

Mary Lennox is the antithesis of Sara Crewe at the beginning of her story. She is selfish, bitter, and angry, and shuns all affection. But as Mary spends more time reviving her late aunt’s garden, her cold, broken heart begins to heal. Her friendships with Dickon, a boy who lives on the moor, and Colin, her invalid cousin, are also instrumental in her healing process. There is never anything romantic about her relationships with them; she loves them as people. And their friendship — especially between Mary and Colin — is symbiotic. They help each other to heal and grow and change as they watch how Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary’s garden grows.

“And they both began to laugh over nothing as children will when they are happy together. And they laughed so that in the end they were making as much noise as if they had been two ordinary healthy natural ten-year-old creatures — instead of a hard, little, unloving girl and a sickly boy who believed that he was going to die.”

3. Matilda Wormwood from “Matilda” (Roald Dahl)

Lesson: Never settle. If something isn’t right, stand up for yourself and get out.

Brilliant, sensitive, and the best partner-in-crime on April Fool’s Day, Matilda deserved better than the horrible family she grew up in. Then again, no child deserves parents as awful as the Wormwoods, but we felt that our beloved Matilda especially didn’t deserve them. And we rejoiced when she finally realized that she deserved the best, stood up to her parents and Miss Trunchbull, and found a loving mother in Miss Honey. Like Matilda, if we don’t have the courage to get out of disastrous or “just OK” relationships, we may miss out on what we’ve been looking for all along.

“All the reading she had done had given her a view of life that they had never seen. If only they would read a little Dickens or Kipling they would soon discover there was more to life than cheating people and watching television.”

4. Anne Shirley from “Anne of Green Gables” (Lucy Maud Montgomery)

Lesson: Life doesn’t begin when you get married. It’s happening right now, so drink it all in and savor it.

OK, I’m kind of cheating on this one because *spoiler alert* Anne marries Gilbert Blythe later in the series. However, we fall in love with Anne and follow her story because of her imagination, her zest for life, her intelligence, and her penchant for getting into trouble — not because we’re waiting around worrying about her love life. Anne doesn’t think about romantic love at all for most of the series. In fact, if you look at the first book on its own, you’ll see that her and Gilbert’s story arc is more about forgiveness than flirtation. Anne is a happy, whole, peaceful, and distinctive person throughout the series. While her childhood schoolmates are worrying about love and marriage, Anne becomes the first girl from Avonlea to get her B.A. If she had stayed single throughout the books, that would have been fine with us. As it is, Gilbert does not define her nor complete her; he complements her.

“Dear old world’, she murmured, ‘you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”

5. Molly from “Molly’s Pilgrim” (Barbara Cohen)

Lesson: Never underestimate the power of your testimony.

Molly is a Russian Jewish immigrant, and she faces ridicule and prejudice at her new American school. She often tries to hide her heritage in order to fit in. But in the end, with the help of her teacher, Miss Stickley, she owns her identity and takes pride in it. Even if you don’t have a Miss Stickley, God sees your worth and dignity and wants to use your testimony for the glory of His Kingdom and to draw others closer to Him.

“It takes all kinds of pilgrims to make a Thanksgiving.”

6. Annemarie Johansen from “Number the Stars” (Lois Lowry)

Lesson: The world is a scary place, but you CAN learn how to navigate and thrive in it.

Imagine being 10 years old and having your best friend’s life in your hands. And not just her life, but her family’s, your family’s, your own life, and those of several strangers! Annemarie is a Lutheran girl from Denmark who becomes involved in a plan to help her Jewish best friend, Ellen, escape the Nazis. Annemarie never says she isn’t afraid; in fact, she readily admits that she’s scared to death. But she does what she has to do to save Ellen and her family. Like Eleanor Roosevelt said, “A woman is like a tea bag; you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

“I think you are like your mama, and like your papa, and like me. Frightened, but determined, and if the time came to be brave, I am quite sure you would be very, very brave.”

7. Margaret “Meg” Murry from “A Wrinkle in Time” (Madeleine L’Engle)

Lesson: You have to be independent, but you are never alone.

Though Meg is intelligent, she constantly looks to others in times of trouble: her brother Charles Wallace; her long-absent father; her intergalactic friends; and even popular athlete Calvin. Meg thinks that she’s too stupid, too ugly, and too ill-tempered to solve her own problems. Though it’s easy to roll your eyes at her, how many of us have felt worthless or doubted our own abilities? When Meg learns that she is the only one who can save Charles Wallace from the powers of IT, she’s terrified. But with the love of her family and friends behind her, Meg summons her strength and finds her self-worth. Yes, I know Calvin kisses her and it’s cute, but THAT’S NOT THE POINT OF THE STORY. Meg’s internal conflict isn’t resolved when she and Calvin get together (They never really do; it’s just inferred that they like each other.) Her story arc only comes to a close when she accepts the very adult responsibility of her brother’s life and her own, and emerges victorious. WOOHOO!

“‘Father saved me then. There’s nobody here to save me now. I have to do it myself. I have to resist IT by myself.'”

8. Luna Lovegood from the “Harry Potter” series (J.K. Rowling)

Lesson: Embrace your uniqueness, and you will attract the right kind of people for you.

I know what you’re thinking — no Hermione? Let me put it this way: The Potter fandom wasn’t in an uproar because Rowling second-guessed Luna’s love life. I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who didn’t respect Luna. Yeah, she was weird, but she was a talented, intuitive, and compassionate ally in the fight against Voldemort. She never changed for anyone, and everyone grew to love her for it.

“‘People expect you to have cooler friends than us,’ said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty. ‘You are cool,’ said Harry shortly. ‘None of them was at the Ministry. They didn’t fight with me.” – “Half-Blood Prince”

9. Jean Louise “Scout” Finch from “To Kill a Mockingbird” (Harper Lee)

Lesson: Spend time with people who are different than you. Don’t try to change them, but learn from them.

This book is just chock full of life lessons, but many of them point to the themes of empathy and of judging people based on what they are, rather than what you hear about them. At the beginning of the novel, Scout Finch, like many children, accepts any opinion that comes her way: the Cunninghams are stubbornly poor, Mrs. Dubose is a grouchy old witch, Aunt Alexandra is a nosy busybody, and Boo Radley has no good reason to stay in his house forever. But through her interactions with these and many other characters in Maycomb, she begins to understand that each person is complex, with flaws and virtues alike. Her final interaction with Boo is so moving because she has learned to love — not the same love she feels for Atticus and Jem, but an active choice to love another human being.

“’I think there’s just one kind of folks, Jem. Folks.’”

10. Margaret Ann Simon from “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” (Judy Blume)

Lesson: Find your well of living water — where you are nourished spiritually.

Margaret is the 12-year-old daughter of a Jewish father and a Christian mother. Religious identity is a prominent theme in the novel, as Margaret faces pressure from her grandparents, friends and classmates to pick a side. In John’s gospel, in the story of the woman at the well, Jesus talks about the “living water” which becomes “a spring of water welling up to eternal life” in those who believe (John 4: 10-14). Without realizing it, Margaret develops a profound prayer life that sustains and feeds her spirit. The best part of it is that she doesn’t choose a religion at the end of the story; she realizes that her walk of faith, like ours, is a lifelong journey. So, in your singlehood, find your “well of living water,” whether it’s daily Mass, bible study, the Rosary, long solitary walks, or being in community with other people of faith. And don’t be afraid to try other forms of prayer and worship.

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret. I want you to know I’m giving a lot of thought to Christmas and Hanukkah this year. I’m trying to decide if one might be special for me. I’m really thinking hard, God. But so far, I haven’t come up with any answers.”

FRANCE IN TWO DAYS! Stay tuned for more adventures in the coming months.

Question of the Week: Who would you add to this list and why? Please tell me in the comments! I’ll have to add them to my reading list.

Two Tongues, One Spirit

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Happy Pentecost, everyone! At Mass this morning, we heard from the Acts of the Apostles. I was reminded of a talk I gave on my college Catholic community’s fall retreat in October, in which I used the same reading. I’d like to share with you an abridged version of that talk, as my personal Pentecost reflection. Veni sancte spiritus.

I’d like to start by examining what community is, and why the global community of Catholics is a special one. Think of some of the communities you’ve been a part of: a team or club, a staff at a job, etc. In all of these cases, people come together to strive toward a common goal. They have different backgrounds, personalities and beliefs, but there is something bigger than all these individuals that unites them. What do Americans say when we recite the Pledge of Allegiance? “One nation, under God.” We are united. In the global community of Catholics, the Holy Spirit is our uniting force.

Let’s look at a reading from the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles (2:1-11):

“When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven staying in Jerusalem. At this sound, they gathered in a large crowd, but they were confused because each one heard them speaking in his own language. They were astounded, and in amazement they asked, ‘Are not all these people who are speaking Galileans? Then how does each of us hear them in his native language? We are Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya near Cyrene, as well as travelers from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs, yet we hear them speaking in our own tongues
of the mighty acts of God.'”

Frustrating pronunciation aside, this reading exemplifies why the global community of Catholics means so much to me. How many of you have ever attended Mass at a Catholic church that wasn’t your home parish? I’m willing to bet that most of you had little to no trouble following the order of the Mass. You knew the prayers, when to stand, when to sit, when it was time for Communion, etc. No matter where you are in the world, Catholics celebrate Mass in almost exactly the same way. When we listen to the readings on Sundays, millions of other people are hearing the same words in their own language at the same time. Think about that. Millions of people all over the world — many who you will never meet in this lifetime — are joining together, praising God in one voice. Isn’t that amazing?

The word Catholic comes from the Greek word catholikismos, meaning “according to the whole” or “universal.” This etymology became more meaningful to me over this past year. As many of you know, I studied abroad in Nantes, a large city in the western half of France, during my junior year of college. On Jan. 9, 2013, I arrived alone in a foreign country, loaded down with two huge suitcases and fighting off the remnants of a fever. Even my eight years of French classes couldn’t have prepared me for that moment. The first few weeks were much more difficult than I could have imagined. I missed my family and friends. I missed my life at school. And I missed the Catholic community there. I felt like I didn’t have any roots, or anything secure to hold on to. There were several nights where I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t leave then; my parents had already bought my plane ticket home for May. I knew I had to live there, but how could I fit in?

My saving grace that semester was my host family. That first night, five pairs of brown eyes stared at me from around the dinner table as I tried to introduce myself in broken French. It was terrifying, but they were patient with me. After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, and Madame explained that the family’s tradition was to read the daily scripture and pray together before bed. I was amazed. I knew my host family was Catholic because their youngest son went to a Catholic high school, but until then, I hadn’t known to what degree they practiced their faith.

I don’t remember what passage Madame read that night, but even with my limited French, I had few problems understanding it. I remember feeling a warm glow sputtering inside my chest. It seemed as though the Holy Spirit was speaking to me, to all of us, in a language that was beyond words and cultural barriers. After she finished the reading, Madame prayed out loud for me, that I would have an easy adjustment to life in France, and for the family, that they would receive the strength and grace to help me as best they could. Afterward, we said the Our Father and the Hail Mary in French, and surprisingly, I could follow along. For the first time since I had arrived in France, I felt like I was home.

As the weeks went by, my faith strengthened me, and I grew in my relationship with God. I learned to say the Our Father and Hail Mary in French. My host family took me to Mass every Sunday and brought along their missal so I could learn the responses. When we visited Paris, we attended Mass at the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and I got my own medal blessed by the sisters there. About a month and a half into my stay, I started attending meetings of the Catholic community at the local university. Their potluck dinners reminded me of Catholic community soup suppers back home, and I did make some friends there.

I can remember my prayer walk that I did on the last fall retreat before I left the States, where I asked God if He would be with me in France. He said, very clearly, “I will be with you wherever you go.”

Robert Frost wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” But wherever my walk with God has lead me, across state lines or across oceans, I have never been under the impression that a Catholic church has taken me in out of obligation, but out of Christ’s love. It is true that the Church is God’s house, but God’s unconditional love and acceptance and community does not stop at the church doors. As the hymn says, we take the love of God with us as we go. We are called to share that love with the rest of the world. There is no maximum capacity in heaven. God welcomes everyone of every race, language, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, everyone! And we are called to do the same.

If any of you have seen the musical Godspell, the opening number, “Tower of Babble” is a good illustration of this. At the beginning of the number, each ensemble member represents a different philosopher — Socrates, Nietzsche, da Vinci, etc. — and sing their different philosophies loudly, trying to drown out the others. In the next number, John the Baptist enters and tells them to prepare the way of the Lord, and baptizes the whole cast. The Word of God is powerful enough to bring together people who, just moments before, wouldn’t listen to each other or who couldn’t understand one another.

This weekend I pray that we will grow in communion with each other, and through the courage of the Holy Spirit, share that communion with the rest of the world. I would like to close by bringing my host family’s tradition to you. I will be reading from the Gospel of Luke, offering a short prayer, and then closing with the Our Father in French.

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Luke (6:12-16):

Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called a Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

Loving Jesus, we ask you to open our hearts to one another and to Your word, that we may grow in discipleship with You. Send down your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth. I ask all of this in Your name, Amen.

Notre Père qui es aux cieux,
que ton Nom soit sanctifié,
que ton règne vienne,
que ta volonté soit faite
sur la terre comme au ciel.
Donne-nous aujourd’hui notre pain de ce jour.
Pardonne-nous nos offenses,
comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés.
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation,
mais délivre-nous du mal. Amen.

A bientôt!

– Vicky

Have you ever met any Catholics from a different country, or attended Mass in another language? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Multiplying My Smallest Gifts

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It’s my first weekend off since I graduated college.

I know, it sounds bizarre, considering that graduation was almost four weeks ago. I am blessed to have been able to spend a Saturday afternoon touring my new hometown — at least for this summer — in Florida. But God lead me through some rough spots over the past few weeks in order to bring me to a place of tranquility.

Back in November, I was offered a copy editing internship through the Dow Jones News Fund. It was a huge shock for someone who has never taken a journalism class. I was excited beyond belief to spend a summer in Florida working for one of the most prestigious news organizations in the world.

After I graduated college, I raced home to pack up my life in two days, and then headed to Temple University in Philadelphia for a week that can be best described as “journalism boot camp.” Imagine cramming a semester-long introductory course into just a week. I, along with 12 other interns from all over the country, had eight hours of class every day, and at least six hours of studying to do every night. We were tested on Associated Press Style, New York Times Style, spelling, geography, headline-writing and countless other subjects. I’ve always considered myself a good speller, but bombing my first spelling test eradicated that notion.

There was only one other non-journalism major in the room, and from my perspective, he could rattle off terms like “pica” and “refer” with as much finesse as any of the others. I was so intimidated, so afraid that whatever I said in class was insipid or wrong. I was terrified that, because of my lack of a journalism degree, I would personally be responsible for the undoing of a prestigious internship program that has been running for more than 50 years.

I know, it sounds dramatic, but we all have been in that situation of feeling inadequate, especially when we are surrounded by the best in our field, any field. We feel like our own God-given talents are insufficient to distinguish us as the best, the brightest or the most talented of the group. And we get angry at ourselves, even at God, for our lack of perfection in a culture that thirsts for and esteems it.

I was brought to this low point after the second day of class. I needed Jesus, but He seemed so far away. Then, I remembered something I had packed in my suitcase.

It was a little blue pamphlet, “The Catholic Devotional,” that I had thoughtlessly picked up at the church downtown in my last few weeks of college. The final prayer in the book caught my attention:

‘My Jesus, how often I feel very small and inadequate before great tasks and responsibilities. What can I do but bring all that I have, even though it isn’t much, and place all this in Your hands, wait for Your blessing, breaking, thanking and receive back again with amazing power to reach all who depend on me, fill them with goodness and still have more than what I started with. May I never hold back my gifts from You. May I believe that Your blessing multiplies my smallest gifts to maximum powers. May I rejoice that You return the task to me and I have the personal thrill of seeing many satisfied by my ministrations. I adore Your wisdom, Your power, Your sharing. Amen.’ – Father Gerald Keefe

I said this prayer out loud once, twice, and was filled with strength and peace. I may not be the most talented or most informed journalist, but God can still use me. And He has been using me, even in my first week of work. I haven’t been as harsh on myself as I tend to be because I know that the job will get easier as time goes on.

And my limited journalism experience hasn’t hindered me or made me lose credibility at work. As it turns out, many of my colleagues never took a journalism class either! They just saw an opportunity, worked hard, learned as much as they could, and got to where they are today.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about the idea that God did not give us our gifts to glorify ourselves, but rather to use them to spread the Good News. The Bible is filled with little people making a big difference, simply because they had faith that God would multiply their simple gifts for His glory. Even one of our greatest saints, Paul, knew that God chose the weak things of the world to conquer those which are mighty (1 Corinthians 1:28).

If you are feeling small and unworthy, remember that Jesus died on the Cross for the small and weak because He knew they were worth it. God gave you gifts. Use them.

A plus!

– Vicky

What is your go-to prayer or verse when you’re having a bad day? Let me know in the comments, and let’s give the Internet a dose of inspiration and love!

P.S. I haven’t been able to find any information on Father Keefe, who wrote the above prayer. If anyone knows a good resource, please share it in the comments. Thanks!

Sweet Endings: My Lenten Dating Fast Wrap-Up

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Image

OH MY.

I HAVE NOT BLOGGED IN TWO MONTHS.

WHAT?

Between final exams, graduation and packing up my life, I never got to tell you all how my dating fast ended. Well, the short answer is that it didn’t.

True, I finished Becker’s book, did all the exercises and reflections and learned a great deal about myself in the process. But like the story of Jesus and his apostles, my dating fast didn’t end with the Resurrection of our Lord. I still have a long way to go in my walk with Christ, as does everyone else; anyone who says otherwise is fooling themselves. I’m not perfect. I still have many wounds that need healing. I’m still a hopeless romantic and there are times that I get impatient or anxious to be in a relationship. But God has blessed me abundantly in the past two months with friends, fellowship, peace and academic success.

In a sort of catch-up post, I’ll share a few of those blessings here:

1. My school’s second annual Beautiful Women of God retreat, which I helped to plan. I also got to talk about my dating fast experiences and share my testimony with 50 other women, including one of my best friends from high school, who was visiting for the weekend!

2. Solidified post-graduation plans. More on those to come later!

3. A wonderful 22nd birthday, despite it being so close to finals. Celebrating with my roommates and newspaper ed board, and the countless birthday messages from my family and friends. Thank you from my heart.

4. A fantastic senior week with friends I didn’t even know I had, which included a wine tour, jumping in the fountains on campus (a tradition at my school) and senior formal, to which I wore a dreamy pink gown that I paid 40 bucks for at a thrift shop.

5. Getting to cut off 12 inches of my hair to donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths, an organization that makes wigs for women who have lost their hair due to cancer. For more information on donating, please visit their website.

6. Fruitful conversations with family members, friends, classmates, campus ministers, host family and most importantly, with Jesus. 🙂

7. A new laptop, which I am currently using to type this post. I’m officially an Apple convert. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

8. Graduating cum laude and getting all A’s and A-minuses for my final semester of college! God is SO good, all the time.

9. Spending graduation weekend with my four favorite people in the world: my parents, sister and grandma.

10. The new chapter of my life that begins tomorrow, as I head off to Philadelphia for training, and then to Florida for my summer internship. I won’t give away too many specifics because this is the internet and people are crazy.

BONUS 11: You, reading this blog right now. You are a blessing to me, whether you have followed this journey from the beginning, or have just started. Merci mille fois!

A bientôt!

– Vicky

What have been some blessings in your life lately? Share them in the comments below!

You Were Worth Dying For: My Lenten Dating Fast, Day 20

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I needed to reach a breaking point in the dating fast. And I did.

My dare for Day 17 was to meditate in front of a crucifix. The idea was to imagine Christ on the cross saying to me, “I did this for you. Just for you.”

My problem is that I really, really suck at meditating. My brain is always buzzing with 10 different ideas at once. When I try to focus on my post-Communion prayer during Mass, I inevitably think about something else the whole time and then do a quick father-son-holy-spirit-amen after the priest says, “Let us pray.” However, I’ve found that my brain is more inclined to focus, especially during prayer, when my hands are occupied. So to combat any mental wanderings, I brought my journal with me into the meditation chapel on campus. After a minute or two in front of the cross, I opened up my journal and began to write: “Are you just as you were when you were 15?”

At age 15, I felt called to take ownership of my faith in a way I hadn’t before, which is a story for another time. As I wrote in the meditation chapel, the question that plagued me was whether God had really made me a better, more holy person in those six years. And for the first two-thirds of the time I spent there, I thought that I was the same person as I was at 15, just with more sin.

As I wrote, I felt the weight of all the things I had done wrong in the past six years, even the ones that had been absolved through confession. My heart felt like lead. I began to cry. I’m generally not a crier during prayer, but God brought me to my knees in that moment. I asked Jesus, “Why was I worth dying for? I have all this sin on my heart. I hate myself for all the ways I’ve hurt You and others. How can You say You love someone like me? I don’t deserve it.”

I was writing furiously and sobbing alternately. Here I was trying to grow closer to God, doing all the right things — going to Mass three times a week, praying, going on a dating fast, listening to Christian music, etc. — yet I still felt like a horrible human being. I couldn’t see God working in my life. I wasn’t a saint, therefore, I had to be the worst sinner in the world.

Suddenly, everything changed. I began to write out the lyrics to “By Your Side” by Tenth Avenue North: “Why are you striving these days? Why are you trying to earn grace? … Look at these hands and my side. They swallowed the grave on that night, when I drank the world’s sin, so I could carry you in and give you life.” After I had written out a good chunk of the lyrics, I turned the page and wrote five words in huge letters: “YOU WERE WORTH DYING FOR.”

In that moment, Jesus’ mercy penetrated all the layers of shame and self-loathing that had been weighing me down just a few minutes prior. Mark 2:17 reads, “‘It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.'”

For much of my spiritual journey, I have battled the false idea that I need to cross off every item on a spiritual checklist before God can love me. God never said, “I will only love you if you don’t sin.” If that was the case, He wouldn’t have sent us His only Son, Jesus Christ, so that we might be free and forgiven from our sins.

This is our faith. This is amazing grace. Believe it. Jesus’ mercy is yours. Take it.

À bientôt!

– Vicky

What are some of your favorite ways to pray? Tell me in the comments below!

The Difference Ten Years Makes

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I’m so happy to be home for Thanksgiving break, but today was a bittersweet day in my house. This morning, my family — one grandma, two parents, two aunts, an uncle, two cousins, one me — piled into our minivans and arrived at Mass uncharacteristically early (9:17 for a 9:30 service!) at my grandparents’ church. No, this is not our usual Sunday routine.

Today was the Feast of Christ the King, the last Sunday of the liturgical year. It also marked ten years since the death of my grandfather.

Perhaps it’s because I’m only 21, or because the aforementioned decade spanned all my hormonal and formative teenage years, but ten years seems like a lifetime ago. As I stood by Grandpa’s gravesite after Mass this morning, I remembered the day of his funeral. I could not convince myself that the little girl of twelve who placed a rose on a black coffin carefully for fear of falling into the gaping hole in the ground was me, had been me. I feel like I don’t know that girl anymore.

Ten years never seems like a long time. It’s a drop in the world history ocean, and when older adults talk about how they’ve been at this job or lived in this place for ten years, our limited human understanding compresses that time into a more digestible span of six months or a year at most. I’m writing this post at midnight, so I could possibly dive into a long-winded theory about how technology and the hyper-connectivity of the world have altered our perception of time, but I’m not going to.

In an attempt to grasp the change that can occur over the span of a decade, I’ve listed a noteworthy event from each year of the past decade of my life. It has been…

Ten years since my grandpa died only a few days before Thanksgiving. Before going up to bed, I called to his hospital bed in the living room, “Goodnight, Grandpa. I love you!” The next morning, he was gone.

Nine years since my parents tore down the tiny two-bedroom ranch house I grew up in and built our current house on the same property. We moved back in after living with my grandparents for ten months. When we first moved in, everything was cold and whitewashed, and I didn’t know if I could ever call that house “home.”

Eight years since my town built a new middle school and I had to leave all my friends behind for eighth grade. It was awful, but least we had our eighth-grade dances on the same night. J

Seven years since I had my first boyfriend for a grand total of three weeks.

Six years since I had the best freshman year of high school. I reunited with my old friends, made some new ones, and had a few teachers who were so inspiring that I go back and visit them to this day.

Five years since I made my NYC theatrical debut … in a tiny theatre tucked into a corner of Greenwich Village.

Four years since I attended an intensive acting conservatory for high school students for the month of July. It was a crazy thrill ride, but I ultimately decided that I wasn’t called to be an actor.

Three years since my disheartening senior year was infinitely brightened with the arrival of an acceptance letter to my beloved college. Sadly, it was not to Hogwarts.

Two years since I became heavily involved in my college’s Catholic community, where I found my second family — my brothers and sisters in Christ.

And in exactly one month and fifteen days, it will be one year since I arrived at the Orly Airport in Paris, loaded down with two huge suitcases and a fever, made the two-hour train ride to Nantes, and met my adored French host family for the first time.

It’s amazing what ten years can do.

Grandpa, I know you’re up in Heaven, and I hope you’re proud of me. Thank you for watching over me. I love you.

À plus!

– Vicky