Embracing My Gift of Spiritual Motherhood.

There are many new terms and ideas that I've learned since becoming Catholic. Many times I'll see a word or a phrase used commonly in Catholic circles and be like; "What are they talking about?" As I Protestant I often talked to new Christians or people that weren't yet Christians and I would always find myself explaining words, phrases, or references that in my Christian circles were colloquial. I would often joke that when you accepted Christ, you also committed to learning a new language. As I've gone from Protestant to Catholic I've had to learn a whole new language. I knew more of it than I would have had I not been immersed in Christianity at all, but I've needed to learn a whole lot more! One of those is the idea of spiritual motherhood. I don't know that I had ever heard it previously, but now I seem to be hearing it constantly. Just about every time I've heard a Catholic speak on women or motherhood, I've heard this term included.

I recognized the concept as a beautiful thing, but kept thinking "I want more, I will not settle for that, I want to be an actual mom, not just a spiritual one." Lately I've heard more and more about this concept of spiritual motherhood, it's been everywhere! In a few of the e-mails I received on Mother's Day people would mention that I'm a mother to the children I have in my home for daycare, and to my nieces and nephew. The Friday before Mother's Day one of my daycare moms told me "happy Mother's Day" and when my face fell, reminded me that I am a mother to her child, and all of the children I care for. I've known these things, I know I love them as my own, and would do anything for them, and I know they love me, and value me, but I've always thought it wasn't enough.

I had a dream the other night where I was standing in front of a group of women talking about spiritual motherhood. I almost laughed when I reflected on it because that's not something I embraced, or wanted to settle for. And, being content in that would most certainly be settling. This morning as I got dressed I was thinking again about the concept of spiritual motherhood. If you've read much about my journey, then you know that sometimes God needs to beat me over the head with something before I'll listen!

On the way to church this morning I opened up my little purple book that my mom gave me some time ago called Promises for Life for Women, it's a nice little book with various topics that relate to women and some scripture to go along with that topic, and a small blurb of commentary. I opened it to a random page and almost groaned when I saw "Motherhood" was the topic I opened to, but then I saw the specific topic "Spiritual Motherhood" I had to read on, as this is a topic that I've been plagued by for a while. When I read the last paragraph I stopped, and I finally got it.

"Women do not have to carry, adopt, or raise children in order to qualify as spiritual moms. Instead we only need to display a willingness to use the gifts which God has entrusted us in order to nurture others and strengthen them in their faith." 

It clicked. As soon as I read that I had a flood of memories:
-A neighbor girl introducing me to a friend by saying; "That's Miss Amanda, she's like the town mom, if you do something bad, she'll tell you to not to, if you fall off your bike, she'll give you a bandaid, and if you need something, you just ask her."
-Taking a piece of dirt out a little one's mouth and my own husband saying; "Now, mom, it's just a little protein." ((and then covering his mouth when he realized his mistake))
-Counseling teenaged girls, and women older than myself.
-Comforting sick and hurting children.
-Worrying over the health, choices, and well being of so many.
-Loving unconditionally so many people.
-Welcoming children and their mothers into my home.
-Bandaging scrapes and cuts.
-Chasing away monsters, singing silly songs, and wiping away tears.
-Rocking little ones and reading The Word to them.

And so many other things. I am a mother, to many, many children. I may not have birthed them, and they may only call me "mommy" on accident, but spiritually, I am a mother.

How many times have I referred to my heart for children, and my instinct to mother as a curse? How many times have I questioned why God would give me these desires, and yet no children of my own? I'd been looking at it all wrong. I've been refusing to use my talents fully in the way He needs me to right now. I've been telling Him that this wondrous gift of spiritual motherhood wasn't enough. It is enough.

It's enough for those children that need it. It's enough for those teenagers that need me. It's enough for those women that seek my guidance. If it's what He asks of me, it's enough.

In his homily today Father said; "Don't bury your talents." That's exactly what I've been doing. I've been burying my talents, I've been denying the gifts I was given. My ability to love and nurture, my heart for children, my love for anyone that needs it, is not being wasted or used up.  My desire to mother has not gone unanswered. He has provided me with more children to mother and love and care for than I could have ever dreamed. I am a mother. Maybe not in a physical sense, but I do have a role to fill, I am not sitting around waiting on my life as a mother to begin, as I once thought. It's here. I am a mother, I am in the middle of my role, I just need to embrace my gifts, embrace what He has given me, and willingly answer His call to spiritual motherhood.

It's not settling, not at all. I can do great things for many children right here, right now. He has given me the heart full of love, and the ability to nurture. Now it's just up to me to use those gifts as fully as I can.

 I may be a physical mother one day, and I may never be. Either way, I am a mother. I am a loving, devoted mother, spiritually to many people. They need me now, and I am going to stop denying them the guidance and nourishment they need from me, I am going to stop burying my talents and hoping they'll grow, and I'm going to start using them, putting them to work, and by the grace of God, watch them flourish.

One little girl that needed some love from her aunt.

The Journey Home.

I think it's best if we start at the beginning. I was saved, and accepted Christ into my heart in highschool, October 5th, 2005 to be exact. It was around 4:30 in the afternoon, and one of my best friends at the time had held my hand through the entire Bible, and every dumb question I had had, and now we sat in his church basement, praying together as I truly accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior for the first time. It was an amazing experience, and an afternoon I'll never forget. He and I have drifted apart since school, but I will be forever grateful for him putting up with me! We talked on the phone for hours nearly every night, I had so many questions, I barely knew the basic stories, yet I sat down with an old King James that I found in my house and set my mind to figuring out what I believed. With his help, and by the grace of God I truly realized that He did exist and I do believe!

I went about the rest of highschool, and the beginning of college holding onto the belief that I could be both incredibly liberal, and a Christian. Every day I grew deeper and deeper in my faith, I started attending church with Tom and we began growing in our faith together. I began realizing that I could not actually be a Christian, and believe in some things that go against Christ's teachings. We got married, we hit a rough patch, with us both losing our jobs just a few weeks after returning from our honeymoon, we were broke, and I was a horrible wife. Then we began really realizing we were dealing with infertility (we had been told just weeks before our wedding that I may never have children). After each trial we realized that we came out stronger and stronger, and closer to God. No matter how hard things were if we just clung tight to God and each other, we made it through just fine.


Through infertility, and growing in my faith I realized that I could not be a Christian and support abortion. It's just amazing to reflect on the amount of growth in just the short eight years since I accepted Christ into my life. Amazing what God can do in such a short time period! Back to our journey: I started becoming more and more conservative, I started feeling the pull to wear skirts, and then I realized that I was anti-birth control, and I didn't know how my beloved church felt about these issues which were so incredibly dear  to me, so I began fasting and praying about it, and I felt like I just needed to suck it up and meet with my pastor and ask him point blank where our church stood. I had realized that if the church didn't stand firmly rooted in what I had realized to be Truth, then I could no longer be a part of it. That thought broke my heart in a million pieces. I LOVE that church, I grew so much in that church, I was married in that church, that church supported me through everything, no way could I leave them. But, Tom and I prayed on it, and agreed that we may indeed need to.

Now, don't get me wrong here, I don't think that all women should wear skirts, that it should be a teaching in the church, or anything like that. I think that for me, personally, it's what I need. I do, however think that we should be encouraging and explaining modesty in our women and girls. Beyond just "because". Talk to me about WHY. I also think that it's worth exploring why some churches are opposed to birth control. So, I sucked it up, set up a meeting, and discussed these issues with my pastor. This was also the time in which I started thinking and praying about covering my head. After that we continued in deep prayer about where God needed us.

During this time my step grandmother passed away and we attended her funeral, in a Catholic church. A church I was, and am familiar with, I had attended several times, watched my mother get baptized there, etc. so it wasn't that strange to be there. Random fact: I've actually been to more Catholic funerals than protestant. Anyway, at some point, I can't even tell you when, somewhere between the homily and Holy Communion. I had the most magnificent experience with God I have ever had in my entire life. My world was completely shaken. I was so confused, so unsettled, I spent the rest of the service just staring around blankly trying to gather my thoughts into something coherent. I had decided that I would take advantage of  both  Monsignor and Father being at the dinner afterwards, and discuss this with one or both of them. However, enter: my mother, who forced me to go get a plate instead of sitting and talking to them (this wasn't my first time meeting them) by the time I made it through the hugely long line (Italians) they had both vanished. I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend...who is now my sponsor, and told her I had an unsettling experience.

Then, I continued on with my day, convincing myself that I was in fact insane, and the experience was all in my head. Except, I couldn't get it out of my head. I tried. Later, we were back at my mom's and I saw some sacrifice beads on her counter, read the card and thought that my friend would really like something like that, so I asked where she got them so that I could purchase some for my friend. She told me to just take them. So, I stuck them in my jacket pocket and forgot about them. On the way home it was still eating at me, so I told Tom. His very simple response was along the lines of; "Well, if you have to become Catholic, I'll support you, but I'm not there right now."

Um, WHAT!!!! NO NO NO NO NO!!! Somehow that thought never entered my brain, I knew I had this experience, I knew it was right in the midst of discerning where my church home was, but CATHOLIC?!?!?!? I couldn't become Catholic, no way, Jose! I went home and prayed and prayed and prayed, and begged God not to make me Catholic. Sometimes I think God enjoys laughing at me.

The next evening my friend and I went to dinner. As I was leaving the house I slipped into my jacket and when I put my hand in my pocket I felt the beads. I had completely forgotten about them in the midst of all of my pleading with God to not make me Catholic, and having a coronary over that experience. I didn't know then if I wanted to give them to her not, in fact I didn't know if was going to give them to her or not until the moment I handed them to her. Her eyes pretty much bugged out of her head when she said "St. Therese, huh?" I, having no idea what in tarnation she was talking about shrugged my shoulders, and said, "Ummm, sure." She then went on to explain that she had just finished a novena to her, and that was a symbol to her that God had heard her prayers.

Chills. I got chills. I'm pretty sure I could hear God laughing at me in that moment. I realized in that moment that not only had He lead me to being super conservative, but that nearly every opinion I held was completely in alignment with the Catholic church, not only did He give me all that, He gave me a close encounter with Him, and because He knows me, and knows that I like to pretend to not hear Him, He made sure I had a shared experience with someone I dearly love and trust.

Okay, fine. So, now I had to seriously entertain the idea of possibly, maybe, one day, in like ten years becoming Catholic. Fine. Oh no, my life can't be that easy. Every time I turned around He tossed something at me. It was overwhelming. I just couldn't escape all the Catholic being thrown my way. I set up a meeting and talked to my pastor about all of this, I almost begged him to convince that I was wrong, and that I couldn't be Catholic. He told me that he couldn't argue with God, and if that's where God was leading me then I needed to go.

Seriously, that is the last response I expected. No help. So, I decided to find a priest. I called my mommy and made her do the leg work =) the following weekend I drove the two hours to attend Mass with my mom and stepdad. Why did this feel so comfortable? Afterwards we went to dinner with the priest, younger fellow, so that helped me to be a little more comfortable. Random fact#2: He's actually closer to my age than Tom! ((Tom's nine years my senior)) I had spoken with him before, but in brief, and about things like the weather...not, things like; "Catholics are weird, and I am so confused" We all piled in my step dad's truck and headed to dinner. On the way over my brain and mouth were going about a mile a minute as I talked nonstop I think the entire way to the restaurant  By this point I had already realized the truth in the Eucharist and oneness of the Church. So, I told him all about my experiences, the revelations I had had about those two things, etc.

He sat patiently and listened attentively, occasionally trying to share a thought or two, but I was on a roll, and not stopping until I said everything I needed to say! When I finally finished my blabbering he just looked at me with a smile and asked; "Where should I start?" He started at the amazing gift of the Eucharist, and ticked right down my list. It was so much information, I thought my brain, that was already near explosion, just may go ahead and explode! The more he talked the more I realized I was going to be Catholic much sooner than ten years from then. It was too much to process. I could barely eat, I just kept thinking about how clearly God was calling me. And, how much I wanted to fight Him. Oh, and whether it was weirder to drink wine with a priest, or my mom. I really couldn't decided, probably my mom. The wine was awful anyway. ((Protestants tend to avoid alcohol at all costs, we certainly wouldn't be drinking a glass of disgusting wine across from our pastor, while sitting next to our mother))

I had a lot to ponder after that dinner. I went home and prayed and prayed, and prayed some more. Stronger and stronger I could feel the pull on my heart towards the Catholic church. The next morning, during my normal church service it really hit me. I was done there. It was time. Whether I wanted to or not, I was becoming Catholic. I surrendered to His will, the moment I did, I threw my hands in the air and told God He won, peace flooded through me. An indescribable peace. Before, with all of the information coming at me it felt like waves crashing all around me, beating me on all sides, and when I gave in, He calmed the storm, or at least His child.

I told my pastor that day and we agreed that I would continue attending to fulfill the responsibilities I had there. I spent that afternoon praying, reading, and while still peaceful, once again being hammered with questions. I e-mailed Father that night and explained my decision, and my realization that I was headed towards Catholicism for years, I just hadn't accepted it or realized it until then. The following weekend we had lunch (Father, my friend, and I) and discussed more of the issues I was still struggling with, and once again he was so awesome at dealing with me!

Several more frantic "what about..." e-mails later, I realized that many of the issues made so much sense. In fact, what confused me was why Protestants DIDN'T believe these things, they just clicked. I entered into RCIA soon after, and through prayer, Bible study, about twenty books, a few more months, and more bothering Father constantly, I was finally ready to "come out" to my friends and family about this decision.

At this point only my best friend, husband, mother, step father, sister, and grandmother knew...and Father, and my pastor, of course. It was nerve wracking. I knew it would be, I was scared to death of what would happen, how people would react. I finally sucked it up and told a few of my very closest church friends, they were mostly disappointed, some were angry, some were sad, all were confused.  I felt rejected, and it hurt. It hurt, hurting people like that. It still hurts. I moved on to a few family members, more of the same. I have never been told I was going to Hell, that they would pray for my soul, that I was stupid, wrong, or damned so many times, so close together, by so many people I loved. It broke my heart.

I was done. I was ready to give up. Let the devil win. Stay where I was comfortable. Stay where I was loved and accepted. I just couldn't handle it anymore. I broke down, I cried, I sent a middle of the night, frantic; "I quit!" e-mail to Father, I figured he was asleep and wouldn't see it until the next day, or a few days later. I hit my knees and I cried out to God, and I begged Him for comfort, for strength, for guidance. Mere seconds after I said "Amen" my computer dinged alerting me of a new message, I stood up, dried my eyes, and read two simple words; "Call me." I began to cry again, I knew this was the comfort I needed. I thanked God for working through him. I picked up the phone, and dialed Father's number.

"Are you okay? How are you?" was the first thing I heard, no "hello" no "hey" but a very concerned inquiry about my state of being. He sounded so genuinely worried for me, it stopped me for a moment, that worry, that concern in his voice, his willingness to listen to me in the middle of the night, his fatherly worry for me in my moment of need really resonated, calling him "Father" made so much more sense to me at that moment. I hesitated while that all sunk in and then replied; "not super awesome." From there, I cried, and talked for over two hours. It was well after midnight, and the poor guy was starting to fall asleep. Remember  this priest is from a completely different diocese, than the one I entered! I tell you, he deserves a medal for putting up with me.

His willingness to listen to me, to have more dinners with me, to respond to my long winded emails  to be there for me in the middle of the night, when I'm not even a member of his own fairly large congregation just drove home the oneness of the Catholic church. It's just beautiful. Once I regained my courage I posted this to announce my decision to my Facebook friends, and people I don't talk to often. It was fairly well received  I got a few emails, but nothing like the backlash I was prepared for.

I continued my journey, and finally on Saturday I was welcomed into the Catholic Church!

It was an amazing sense of family, unity, and welcome. It was overwhelming. Standing there I just kept thinking about how amazingly stressful, and tiring this journey has been. Not only that, but how incredibly worth it it's all been. I finally understood why people (Catholic People) always told me; "Welcome Home" when I told them I was converting. It truly does feel like home. It's comforting, welcoming, and it feels right, It feels like home. I was baptized and received my first Holy Communion that evening. 

So many emotions! For those of you that read this, and are wondering, I did receive on the tongue, I was the first to receive (aside from the Eucharistic ministers) and that was very nerve wracking, up until the very moment in which I said, "Amen" and opened my mouth. At that moment I was really, really home. I had Christ living in me! I had made it! All the trials, all the heartache,   all the questions, all the longing, I made it, I was home. I am Catholic. I received the Eucharist. It was amazing. I didn't fall over, but I did cry...I did have some restraint and waited until I had returned to my seat in prayer. 

I did not veil that evening, though. I decided (with the help and advice from my husband, friend, and of course the priest I like to irritate) to wait until Easter morning. We drove the two hours to go to Mass with my mom, and also to give Father a thank you gift for putting up with me. ((I gave him beer, which is hilarious to me, coming from so many years of no alcohol whatsoever. I a little nervous about that as part of his gift, but I think that was his favorite part [it was Chimay]))

I decided to veil then. That made me nervous, I just prayed for strength, and with trembling hands pulled it up over my head (infinity scarf style) as we crossed into the sanctuary, Tom gave me a reassuring smile and helped me adjust it to cover more of my hair. We found a seat, and as I prayed I almost forgot about it...until I heard the gentleman in front of us whisper to his wife ;"that lady is wearing a veil" It was reassuring when she just shrugged and didn't even turn to see who he was talking about. The nervousness returned though, I just reminded myself that it wasn't for them, it was for God. Just like becoming Catholic, if God asks it of me, no matter how difficult, I'll do it. 

Ultimately, it was wonderfully humbling, and I know it was the right thing to do, and I will continue to do so. It was my first Mass as Catholic from start to finish, and it was beautiful. Monsignor gave a wonderful homily, and my second time receiving the Eucharist was almost as overwhelming as the first! I hope that feeling of awe never goes away! 

Both father and Monsignor seemed genuinely happy for me and my conversion! What an awesome feeling. Father even seemed a bit excited about my veiling, he mentioned it right after I walked into the room after Mass. He even told Monsignor, honestly neither of them seemed too surprised by it, but were both very welcoming about it. Which is also a relief because of all the worry I had put into it, it was nice to see it wouldn't be a big deal after all. 

Tom isn't converting at the moment, but is attending Mass with me, and is open to converting in the future!

I'm finally Catholic! Finally Home, what a wonderful feeling! 

My mom, being proud of me!

Five reasons I am becoming Catholic.

I just realized that I am going to be Catholic in less than twenty four hours! I don't know whether to shout for joy, sob uncontrollably about what's to come, and what's been left behind, or collapse into to bed from utter exhaustion. So, I think I'll blog  =)

I would like to keep this simple and sweet. So, in no particular order, here are the top five reasons I am becoming Catholic:

1.) God- The experience described at the beginning of this post.

2.) Jesus said; "this is..." 

3.) Prayer- I don't have a post for this one, but before my initial experience I was already in a place of prayer and fasting about the "right" church for me.  And whether or not I was there, and then of course in almost constant prayer afterwards, and always felt called towards Catholicism.

4.) I couldn't find anything I was protesting...except Protestant things. I kept trying to find fault in the Catholic church, and I just couldn't. I could, however find faults in Protestantism.

5.) We are called to be one. One. Not thousands upon thousands working against each other, and teaching different things. One. One body, working in perfect harmony, with many parts.


Pretty simple. In fact, looking at this list and reflecting on the last year and all the anxiety and tears, and worry, and anger makes me think I'm a little silly with a flair for the dramatics!

Pray for me, and I'll see you again when I'm Catholic! Now for some screaming, crying, praying, and sleep. Mostly sleep. And prayer.

The strength in being looked upon as weak.

Source

I walk to the door, step to the side, and wait. My husband comes, opens the door, and I walk through. We walk together, until the next door where this same scenario plays out.   Someone hearing this or seeing this outside of knowing us and how our marriage works would see me as a mean, spoiled brat. In fact, I've had several on lookers say to me, "how dare you expect a man to open your door, you're capable!" Yes, I'm perfectly capable of many things that I don't do for the sake of my husband. Now, maybe you don't know me well and are thinking; "Wow, what a spoiled brat, how full of herself." Just hold your horses, and I'll explain.

I have briefly mentioned before that I was born and raised a feminist, and am now in recovery. I used to be the type of woman that didn't want a man to do anything for her, I was perfectly capable, in fact, my grandma made sure I was perfectly capable. Contrary to popular belief I am quite capable and could be very self sufficient if need be. Not even kidding, I CAN change a tire, CAN check the oil, CAN take out the garbage, CAN change a fuse, CAN use a saw, drill, hammer, and screwdriver, and yes, I CAN even open a door, that doesn't mean I do, or should have to. Even in the beginning of our relationship I was still very "I can do it!" and didn't like for him to do things for me, he, being the gentleman that he is, allowed me to open doors, and be as independent as I thought I needed to be, but he didn't like it. He did it anyway, because at that point in our relationship that's what I needed. That's a big part in making any relationship work, adjusting, and sacrificing to meet the other person's needs.

Over time, as I've grown more comfortable and stronger in my femininity, as I've developed a deeper understanding of myself, my husband, and my marriage I've been able to let go and allow myself to be taken care of. I realize that in our society allowing a man to care for you in any way is seen as a great weakness, but in reality it is anything but. Allowing someone to care for you takes great strength in our society. I am often ridiculed for what is seen as "laziness" and being "spoiled" I have a society full of women telling me I am weak, and a family telling me I was "raised better than that." Truly I have to go against the grain, one has to be strong to resist the pressures to fit into society. I used to see women in marriages where Biblical submission is ((properly)) practiced and pity them, but now I see them and think; "What strength!" It's not that we're being oppressed or abused, which is a common misconception. It's that we're putting aside our selfish ways, our ingrained feminist ideals that tell us we have to do things on our own, and we don't need anyone to do anything for us. It takes extra time and consideration to wait for the door to be opened, the garbage to be taken out, the sink to be fixed, or the cabinet hinge tightened. I'm home, I could easily do it myself, but the light in my husband's eyes when he sees that I need him, and I depend on him, the joy that he has in being able to provide for and take care of his family is so wonderful, I can't take that away from him, it would be selfish to.

What you might not realize is that many women that have these types of marriages are actually very strong willed, independent, and capable. It is no small feat for them to allow themselves to be taken care of in anyway, it takes great discipline on their part, and is a sacrifice for the sake of their marriage. For me, it started out slowly, while we were dating, allowing him to buy dinner, open the door, and buy me things. I realized that even though I didn't NEED him to do those things, they helped him to feel wanted and needed, they made him feel important. So, over time as our relationship developed I allowed him to do more things for me, I swallowed my pride and stopped opening doors, stopped trying to pay, stopped trying to refuse gifts. I didn't become spoiled, dependent and expectant. I made a conscious effort to do those things for him, I saw the joy it brought him to do those simple little things for me. Now it brings me great joy to know that I am making him happy in simply allowing him to do these little things for me. It's not demeaning, and weak. It's sacrificial, and it's love. Simple as that, when you love someone you want them to be happy. Beyond that, as I've grown and started embracing my femininity more I have realized how great it feels to be protected and taken care of. I love knowing that he desires to care for me, and loves me, it makes me feel important and loved, and safe.

How beautiful that he loves me, and that he desires to care for me. It's so symbolic of God's love for us, His caring, sacrificial love for us, and how we must allow Him to care for us, as well. The Bible commands men to love their wives as Christ loves the church, and I think this type of love demonstrates that. God wants to be able to love you and help you, and care for you, but sometimes in our stubborn self sufficiency we think we can do it without His help, and try to refuse Him. He loves us so and wants to help us, and care for us. Our husbands love us and protect us, and care for us in a similar manner.

I make sure to never stop being grateful for his loving care of me. Even though he's opened probably hundreds of doors for me, changed countless light bulbs, taken the trash out every Monday morning, killed many spiders, paid for many dinners, purchased many gifts, and kept the house and cars from falling apart I always make great efforts to show him my appreciation, and to never grow complacent. I make sure to say thank you, and to show him I am thankful, as he does for me. Just as I rarely touch a door handle, fix a leaky sink, kill a spider, take out the trash, change a light bulb, or mow the lawn, he rarely does the laundry, washes dishes, mops the floors, dusts, sweeps, or scrubs the toilet. We have both fallen into our roles as what feels good and comfortable for us, what we're each good at, ways we can each care for the other. What your marriage looks like may be different, but this is the shape ours has taken, and it works for us. In my marriage, Tom loves to cook, so we split that about 50/50, I know in many marriages the woman does all of the cooking, but in my marriage that would be depriving my husband of something he enjoys to do. So, he cooks some nights, some nights we cook together, and some nights I cook. I am better with numbers so I keep track of all the bills and spending. I know in some marriages that's the responsibility of the husband, but I am better at it, so I take on that responsibility. I am blessed with a wonderful  husband that is more than willing to help me in anyway I need, so if I am running short on time, or getting a little overwhelmed he doesn't hesitate to pick up a broom or a dish towel. Likewise, I have been seen on the side of the road in a skirt helping to change a tire.

Marriage takes a lot of give and take, a lot of sacrifice, a lot of growth, a lot of determination, a lot of love, a lot of faith, and a lot of strength. Marriage takes a lot. But, it's worth it. Just, never be ashamed to allow yourself to be taken care of. I know at some points I have felt ashamed to admit that I depend so much on my husband, but I then realized, he depends on me as well, it's much more equal than it appears from the outside. Don't judge harshly those women that wait for their husbands to open the door, or wait for him to come to the rescue when she has a flat tire. You don't know how much strength it is taking her to allow herself to be cared for. You don't know how loved she feels when he cares for her. Marriages like ours tend to be judged harshly, I am often seen as weak, and submissive, codependent,and incapable. If you know me, you know the opposite is true.

So, the next time you see me wait on my husband to open a door, don't give me a dirty look. Realize that it's just one of the many ways I say,  "I love you" and his way of saying, "I love you too" without saying a word.


Linking up with: Matrimonial Mondays

The Bread of Life in the feed box.

My sister as Mary, and my niece as Jesus in a
live Nativity at St. Anthony's Catholic Church
in December 2012

The other day I was reading something and it said something about Bethlehem meaning "house of bread" it was written in passing, like "here's a little factoid" and my brain pretty much exploded! The reason my brain exploded was that the second I read that, it clicked that a manger is a feed box. I was like "whoa, the Bread of Life (John 6:35) was born in the House of Bread, and placed into a feed box!" More proof for the Eucharist, which we all know I love, I mean, duh, "it's" Jesus, how could one that loves the Lord not love the Eucharist?  This is one of  my favorite things about the Word, no matter how many times you read it, you can always gain something new...if, and when God's ready to reveal it to you, of course. 

It's such wonderful foreshadowing. On the day He was born of the flesh, He was born in the 'House of Bread'-later He tells us; “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 6:35) in verse 51 He goes on to say; " I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” the symbolism of Him being laid in a manger-feed box-after His birth, is just so beautiful when paired with these later words. He begins His human life in a feed box, and later feeds thousands on little food, and now, with His presence in the Eucharist, feeds millions spiritually every day.  It's just amazing to me that He was in a feed box (in the House of Bread) and we feed on Him now. 

I talk about much more of the proof I found in the post I linked earlier, I just, I almost have no words! So many connections, so many references, it's just simply amazing, and awe-inspiring, I just can't get my brain around it fully, I'm just so excited I had to share that bit of insight...even though most of you are probably laughing that I JUST made that connection, and at my simple theology, but, hey, I felt I had to share. 

I am just awed by that symbolism, but not a bit surprised. Nothing is an accident where Christ is concerned, it all has deep purpose and profound meaning, we are just so blessed to be able to have small slivers of that revealed to us! Surprisingly I don't have much else to say about it, other than it's clearly foreshadowing the gift He later gives us, and that's amazing. And, God's amazing! And I'm stoked for the day I finally get to partake of that wonderful gift that Jesus gave us.

I don't have all the answers.

I like my life to be wrapped up in neat little packages. I prefer everything to have a place, and for everything to be in its place, I like to know what's going on, and I think I must have all the answers, at all times. I am fantastic at giving people advice, I tell you, I have the answer to every problem....except my own. That's partly because I refuse to see that I have a problem, and partly because I am afraid to admit that I don't have an answer. It's the same with my choice to become Catholic. I researched and prayed so much, and I am 100% confident in that choice, and I feel that if I admit that I am having any struggles with this at all, that I have failed in some way, and that I am not fully committed. I know that's not true, but it's what I have convinced myself of. The truth is, I am still questioning, and I'm terrified ...but, strangely confident in the choice I am making, regardless of the remaining questions.

It's important for me to admit that I struggle sometimes...okay, like all the time, and I don't have all the answers, as much as I wish I did. I've talked a bit about disappointing others before, this journey has been so messy, and not at all tidied away in little packages topped with a bow as I wish it could be. This entire journey has been a big fat mess, full of doubts, questions, tears, understanding, growth, hurt feelings, broken hearts, love, joy, and peace. This is a journey full of God. Through every step of the way He's been by my side, holding my hand. I have felt His presence more throughout this trial than at any other time in my life. I know I'm not supposed to worry, and I'm not supposed to understand...but as no more than a mere human, a simple servant, and a great sinner, I can't help myself in trying and wanting to anyway.

Although I know this is where I am being led, although I pour my heart out about it daily, I am still filled with anxiety, and fear. The thing is, I have to be right. And not just because I'm arrogant and think I'm always right (which is a fault that I fully recognize in myself) but because if I'm wrong then I have in fact risked my soul, I have risked friendships, and relationships with people I dearly love. If I have misheard this call, If I'm wrong on this then it affects nearly every other aspect of my life. I know in the depths of my heart that I am right on this one, that this is where God is leading me, for what purpose, I still don't know. But, I do know that I will follow wherever He leads. I do know that the cost of not following Him is far too great to risk.

I also know where doubt and fear come from. I know that the devil wants me, he wants anyone that God has and he doesn't. The closer you are to God, the more the devil wants you. This journey has been no different. every journey I have been on has been this way, I do awesome and am close to God, and the devil steps in and tries to convince me otherwise. You can see this plainly by looking through my infertility section, you can see the overwhelming peace I felt here that was soon replaced by anger. I am sure you have similar things in your life, similar battles to be fought. We just can't let the devil win.

In this particular journey he has been smashing my pretty little boxes every time I finally fit something into one, and then giving me more things to try and shove into a box. What I mean is every time I think I have all the questions answered and am content in knowing them, I get a whole slew of new ones thrown at me, but the absolutely amazing thing, the way I know God is in charge here, is every time I have questions, I can easily find the answers, and they click, and I find peace about that questions. Peace that only He can give. The Church has been around so long that everything I could possibly ask has already been asked, and they can back it Biblically and historically! The other way I know is every time I told Monsignor (priest, and family friend) I was questioning, every time I told the priest (that I bother constantly) that I was questioning I was encouraged, I was told to dig deeply and find out as much as I can.  That's confidence, in your church, your Bible, and most importantly, your God. If you weren't confident in your church, if you didn't believe it was the fullness of Truth, you wouldn't encourage others to question, and dig, and wonder. If you didn't have the full confidence in God, then you wouldn't want people to ask questions, and to dig.

It's hard. It's hard not knowing what's going to happen tomorrow. It's hard when my little boxes don't stack up just right. It's hard when things don't fit into my boxes the way I think they should. It's hard to hurt those I love. But, He never said it would be easy, now did He? I do know it's worth it, and I do know He's by my side.

So, I don't have all the answers, and I never will. I still have questions, and you know what? That's OKAY! It's okay, because in the midst of all the questions, and all the un-stacked boxes, I know I am on the path I need to be on. I know I making the right choice.

In Anticipation of Receiving the Body of Christ

Source

Communion has always been something that I have had great reverence for. I am very blessed that the church I attend has always, always reminded us to partake with great reverence and remembrance of the symbolism involved in partaking, they warned us every time we had it to only take part if we had examined ourselves and made sure that we were willing to cast aside anything that was keeping us from Christ. (1 Corinthians 11:27-32) Every time we took it we would be read the Gospel, and told to stay seated if we weren't going to cast aside those things keeping us from God. It was never, ever something taken lightly at my church. I have been in churches where they were like "Um, communion is on the table back there, grab some on the way out, if you want." At the time I was like "A representation of the body and blood of JESUS and you're treating it like it's a cookie after service?!?!?!?!?"

No. One does not just GRAB communion on the way out! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I briefly mentioned my love of the Eucharist here.  Now, I want to expand on that. If you aren't familiar with the term, it's the consecrated bread and wine served during the Mass, AKA-the Body and Blood. So, like I said, I have always loved communion, and I am blessed to have come from a church that does as well, in fact, it's worth noting that I have seen more people not partake (that normally do) in my church than I have in all the months I have been attending the Catholic church....and we did it monthly, just throwing that out, Catholics.

Anywho, directly after my initial experience  for the following, oh three to four weeks every single time I turned around God would throw something else at me, until the moment I finally threw my hands in the air, and declared "Okay, God, you win! I'm going, I'll be Catholic if that's what you want so bad!" Then, peace like a river flowed through me, all the anxiety, all the worry, all the questions floated away in that moment. As soon as I surrendered to His will, when I finally gave in, all the beating me over the head with scriptures and truths just drifted away. Amazing how that works.

As I said, he was continuously revealing things to me, like every other day, HUGE things. Like, the second that first experience happened, the flood gates were opened, and the truths came pouring in. One of the initial truths He chose to reveal to me in the scriptures was the truth in the Eucharist.

I was minding my own business, reading John 6, which I've read a few dozen times, when all of a sudden Jesus's words struck me as they never had before: 

 ^"I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven,which anyone may eat and not die.  I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”

 Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves,“How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”

 Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them.  Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me.  This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. 

 On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?”

Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you?  Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before!  The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him.  He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.”

 From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.

 “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.

 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

 Then Jesus replied, “Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a devil!” [John 6:48-70]

Now, maybe, like me you have read this before  and haven't paid much attention, I never did before this day, for whatever reason when I read it that day it hit me, I was like, "Wow, Jesus MEANT it" What really struck me was that many of them left. If He had only intended it as a loose representation of His body and blood He could have been like, "Hey, wait a minute, what I meant was after I'm back up in Heaven grab a shot of grape juice and a piece of cracker, as you rush out the door after church, and think of me for about a second while you do it." Then, they would have all been like, "Oh, okay, sweet." But, no, He was just like "So, the rest of you, chill with eating my flesh and drinking my blood, or you wanna go too?" and they had realized that He was who they said He was, and that He meant what He said, and no matter what He asked of them, they would do it, because that's what it takes to be a follower. 

Sometimes God puts some tough things on our hearts, like, um becoming Catholic, and being hurt by those you love, but as a true follower, you do it anyway. You do it because you know that what Jesus said is true, you do it because you know the Bible is the truth. This is what separates the true followers from the fair weather friends. You've heard me say before that the Bible is not a bag of trail mix in which you can pick out the M&Ms and leave the hard stuff for someone else. Those that left, only wanted the M&Ms, those faithful few that stayed knew that while the M&Ms were easier to chew, they'd also have to deal with some tougher stuff as well. And for Christ, they were willing. 

After I had this realization, I realized that I could never again partake of anything less than the body and blood of Christ. (and bothering my mom's priest of course, that poor guy deserves a medal for putting up with me! I tell ya!) What an amazing, wonderful, powerful gift that He has given us. The ability to have Him in us! What a powerful, amazing gift!  He said "this IS" IT IS His body, it IS His blood! Wow. How could I deny what was written right there in front of me? I couldn't. 

The more I looked at it, the more I realized the significance of Jesus feeding the 5,000 at the beginning of chapter 6. verse 26: "Jesus answered,  'I tell you the truth, you are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the loaves and had your fill.' "  The bread, which soon after He goes on to tell us is His flesh, all the people were fed, not only fed, but filled, and there was more than enough left over! What, then does that tell us about the body of Christ? Well, that tells us that He will feed us, and not only feed us, but give us all we need, spiritually, there is more than enough to go around! 

Verse 30-31: "So they asked him, “What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do?  Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’ "

Remember,  the Old Testament(which means covenant), is fulfilled in the New. So, in the Old Testament they were given physical bread from Heaven, meeting all of their physical needs, but what kind of bread are we now given? Well, Jesus said, in verses 32-33 "Very truly I tell you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.  For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”  And, who came down and gave life to world? Oh, that's right, JESUS! So, now the bread we're being given is Christ! Spiritual bread, in which Christ is wholly present, Bread that will fulfill all of our deeper needs. 

Let's keep reading, shall we,  “Sir,” they said, “always give us this bread.”

 Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.  But as I told you, you have seen me and still you do not believe. All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away. For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I shall lose none of all those he has given me, but raise them up at the last day. For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.”-Verses 34-40. 

So, here we read that "everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life" and then in verse 48 Jesus begins to tell us the difference between the bread which is His flesh, and the manna in the dessert. What's the difference? "I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven,which anyone may eat and not die.  I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever" 

The difference is, those that eat of His body, and drink His blood, those that believe in Him will receive everlasting life. Wow! He is really present, He really wants us to have Him in us, and to have everlasting life, He did this for us, He gave us this gift. They asked to always be given this bread, and He told them that He is this bread, and He will not lose those that The Father has given Him. That's us! 

My mind was completely BLOWN as I tried to process all this! I couldn't believe I had missed it before! How could I have missed it before? Well, I did, and then it was revealed, and now I can't wait for the Eucharist! I'll probably cry, I'll also probably need someone to hold me up so I don't collapse from utter excitement and joy on being able to partake of that marvelous gift! 

I never thought I could love something so deeply, anticipate it so much, when I have never truly experienced it, but I am waiting in great anticipation to truly receive Christ in me through the Eucharist, and His presence is why! 

Rite of Election.

Sunday we went to the Rite of Election. If you aren't familiar with this, it's when all of those that will be joining the Catholic Church in the entire diocese gather together to be presented in front of the bishop. I was a catechumen, meaning someone entering the Church that has yet to be baptized, yesterday I became one of the Elect. Meaning one chosen to be baptized at Easter.

I had no idea what to expect when going up. I knew the parish (church) I am  going into was only sending four (two catechumen, and two candidates-already baptized) so, I assumed there wouldn't be tons of people...boy was I wrong. I believe there were 95 catechumen, and 125 candidates, totaling 220 people from our diocese alone entering the Catholic church! Talk about exciting.

It was such a beautiful ceremony. Everyone was gathered  with their own parish group, and they did a homily (sermon) and some readings, and then they had each RCIA leader come up and announce their  catechumen, each would stand and say "present" and then make their way to the front of the church with their sponsor (person helping them grow and understand in the faith) to meet the bishop. The sponsor says "Bishop, I present to you Amanda _____" and the bishop says "Hello, Amanda, it's nice to meet you" and you shake hands, and then your sponsor returns to their seat, and the  catechumen joins the rest at the front of the church until you are surrounded by 94 people going through exactly what you are going through, and joining the same big family you are. It was slightly awkward for me, as I was standing directly in front of the Blessed Sacrament (they have Perpetual Adoration at the church we were at) I LOVE the Eucharist. It was one of the first scriptural things that was revealed to me. It was awkward because of the realization that I was  mere feet from the Eucharist, and I just had my back turned, I felt like I should be on my knees, praising God. So, that was awkward, but other than that, it was awesome.

It was an unexpected feeling of love and family standing up there, when you looked out into the audience all you could see was happy faces all seeming to say "welcome home" I noticed a gentlemen in the front row praying the entire time we were up there, how beautiful. As we stood up there each one of our leaders presented the bishop with the book of the Elect, which all the  catechumen had signed during a small ceremony at our parishes, the bishop signed it, and then our leaders held the book high and proud to show that we were God's people, part of His family.

It was wonderful. It really hit me, we are the body of Christ. All of those people are my brothers and sister in Christ. This was all of them welcoming each and every single person into their family. When I first started this process I thought it was so strange that in order to become Catholic you had to go through classes, ceremonies like this, and then finally be welcomed at Easter. It was so strange to me, but now I get it.

One does not simply enter the house of God and "do as the Romans do" one must understand WHY they do as they do. They want you to be a part of this big, huge family, they want you to know you are dearly loved and welcomed, but most of all, they need you to know WHY you are doing what you are doing. Why they sing this, say that, or celebrate this. It's so rich and beautiful, all the history, the deep reverence for God. It's just breath taking.

Not an awesome picture, you can't see me, but I am there, I promise!

What does it feel like to be a hardcore Protestant converting to Catholicism?

It feels pretty yucky, honestly. Well, not the converting part, that's awesome (I hope to write more about that) the telling people part is the yucky part, that makes me feel bad. Something you have to remember about me when reading about my conversion is that I am not coming from a place of little faith, no faith, or lukewarm faith. I am someone that is more than a pew warmer, someone that deeply cares about every single member of the church I am leaving, and someone that is "on fire" for God. That makes it a little better, and a little worse. Better in that I already have a good faith foundation, that I can bring all the awesome things from the Protestant church that the Catholic church is lacking with me, I already know and appreciate most of the liturgy, and celebrations, it's more of a deepening for me.

It's also worse though, I'm hurting so many people. So many people are taking it as a personal insult thinking that they did something wrong. If anything they did something right, they encouraged me to go to my Bible every day, they taught me to pray about everything, trust in God with my whole heart, and follow wherever He leads. Those are the practices that are bringing me to the Catholic church. God is bringing me, and I know that. But, I also know that the people I am hurting won't see it that way.

Fulton J. Sheen said, “There are not one hundred people in the United States who hate The Catholic Church, but there are millions who hate what they wrongly perceive the Catholic Church to be.” How true has this proven to be as I've told people about my conversion, a few people have been nonchalant about it, Catholics have been stoked, but the majority have been bummed, hurt, angry, and worried for the sake of my soul. Which in turn hurts me, these are people I dearly, dearly love, people that I consider family-some ARE family, and I'm hurting them. I hate hurting people, that's never my intent. My only intent is to serve God, and I know that's what I'm doing, and that that trumps all else. But, I don't know how many times I can have my heart broken by breaking hearts. 

Someone I told stared at me, tears in their eyes, and said "...but, you're so smart, and you love the Lord, and you read your Bible, and you're so close to God, you're so studious in your faith." That broke my heart. I know I let this person down, I know they will never understand this. I know they were shocked, and have no idea what to think. But when I replay those words in my head I become hurt all over again. When I replay most of the conversations I've had I become hurt and begin crying all over again. 

I knew I would be met with opposition, I just didn't realize how painful that would be. Of course, I'm not angry at these people, it's not their fault, they don't understand.  They are just worried by what they perceive the Catholic church to be, I get that. I forgive them. But, it's still painful.

Through the pain comes the reassurance, the knowledge, that even though it's not easy, even though it hurts like heck, I am on the path that God is leading me to, I am where I need to be, doing what I need to do. Not for me, if it were just for me I would have given up months ago. It's for God. It's answering His call on my life. No matter what I have to endure I know it's for the Greater Good, and that makes all the pain, hurt, tears, and lost relationships entirely worth it.

I ask for your prayers, patience and understanding as I make this change in my life. 

"If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you."-John 15:9

I have something you need to know...

What if I told you I experienced the Holy Spirit on a level I never had before? What if I told you I had a moment with Him that made the entire universe stop spinning, and everything dropped away except for me and Him? What if I told you that this encounter with Him made every nerve ending, every hair follicle, every cell in my body come to attention? What if I told you this meeting brought tears to my eyes, and goose bumps to my skin? What if I told you that this was so intense, so personal, so one on one that as soon as it was over I had to look around to see if anyone else had felt it also, and was shocked that no one else looked as I felt? What if I told you that all of that doesn't even begin to touch the intensity of the experience I had?

I had that. I can't even put into words the power that I experienced that day. Of course I can't describe it, "it's" GOD, and HE is indescribable. The closest example I can think of is in the movies when two people realize they are in love, and the entire universe stops, and it's just them. Everything else falls away, and it's just the two of them basking in the amazing wonder that is love. It lasted but a few seconds, but I tell you, time stopped for those few seconds in which God chose to reveal Himself to me.

What if I told you I tried to ignore it? What if I told you I tried to pretend it was my imagination running away with me? What if I told you that no matter how hard I tried, God wouldn't allow me to forget that moment, and what that moment revealed to me? What if I told you that from that moment forward everything I did, and everything I read, did nothing but reinforce what was revealed in that moment?

I mean everything, from a gift I nonchalantly (or so I thought) picked up for a friend, to scriptures that I read, the clothes I wear, and even the causes I support. I couldn't escape what God was trying to get through to me, I felt like He was beating me upside the head with it! Every time I ran, He found me, every time I doubted, He explained.

I know I sound a little crazy here, but if you've felt Him, you know I am not insane. This experience clearly rocked my universe. I don't know why God chooses to reveal what to whom, or why He even cares enough about ME to be so powerfully present in my life, but I do know, He has, and He is. I do know that what I experienced was real, it was powerful, and it was HIS presence.

Now, what if I told you that all of this took place in a Catholic church? What if I told you that all of those changes He made in me, all of those verses He revealed to me, led me to the Catholic church?

Would you still love me and respect me as much as you did before you read that last paragraph? I sure hope so. Because that is exactly what I am telling you. I have been trying for months to find a way to tell you this. I know that this will be a complete and total shock to... well, pretty much all of you. I know this will be hurtful to some of you. I know this will be confusing. I know this will be unsettling, unwelcome, and even unacceptable to some of you. For that I am sorry.

For you I have struggled in how to do this, I have struggled with whether or not to even announce this. I don't want to lose any family or friends. I don't want people to be mad and disappointed. I do not want to hurt anyone, but unfortunately, I know I am.

This is not something I am doing lightly, this is something I have prayed about, and cried about for months. This is something I fought, this is something I researched. I went straight to the sources, I spoke with pastors and priests, I read the Word, I prayed daily. This is something that I am doing with great trepidation.

I will gladly answer any more questions you have. Please just remember that I am still the exact same Amanda I was before you opened this post.  I still love the Lord with all my heart, mind and strength. I am still loud. I am still opinionated. I still believe everything I did 'before'. I am still on fire for God. I am still close to God, in fact, closer. I am still loving  and clumsy, and not as funny as I think I am. I am still me. I'm just asking you to not lose sight of that.

It's just, I'll be all of those things, and Catholic.

I don't enjoy driving this slow.

Source

I have three great big huge fears in life: driving, escalators, and zombies. Two of these fears are rational, one is not. I will leave that up to you to decide which is irrational =)

I want to focus on driving, though. I hate it. I used to not hate it. It used to not be an issue, I used to go ninety over train tracks, and down hills. I even lost my license for awhile because I loved to speed so much. I was in an accident that changed that. It wasn't a horrible, over the top, near death accident. But it has shaken me to the core, and I detest driving.

It was a few months before we were married, I was following Tom in his Neon, and he had his truck. Their was construction so we had to take a detour on a gravel road, I was going a nice, 35 MPH. Not too fast at all. All of a sudden I lost control, and the car was all over the road I felt as though someone was holding me back in my seat and I kept hearing in my head "don't move" my shoulders felt pinned, flush with the seat, it happened so fast. The next thing I knew I was in the air, suspended by my seat belt, when I looked to the passenger window all I could see was the grass flattened beneath it, and when I looked out my window all I could see was the clear, blue sky. I knew that I needed to turn the car off, so I did that. Soon I heard someone pulling at my door screaming "unlock it, hurry, are you okay?" It was Tom, I was still confused the door wasn't locked, but gravity was working against us so it took us both a bit of time and team work to open it so that I could climb out, and I had to slide down the roof of the car. Tom hurried me up to his truck, all the while checking me for injury, when we got to the truck he told me to sit and wait, and he grabbed the Powerade he had for his lunch and ran back towards the car. I was so confused, when I looked up I realized the reason. The car was on fire! He put it out and returned to me. A neighbor had called the police and they came with an ambulance and the paramedics checked me over, and I did not have a scratch on me, the car was totaled. (which ended up being a great financial blessing...thank you GAP insurance!)

Through all of that my head/neck did not move, I should have suffered whip lash, I did not. I know that the Holy Spirit was present that day. I could feel it. Tom, being the smart guy he is, forced me behind the wheel that very same day. I was so scared, but he kept telling me "if you don't do it now, it will be harder when you do" So, I did. But, not on gravel for several more months.  Ever since then I have had serious anxiety when it comes to driving, especially on snow and ice, and in large areas with tons of traffic. It seems to be getting worse.

I had a panic attack this week. The roads were snow/ice covered in some areas, and I HAD to get to the bank after work, and Tom was at work. I didn't have a choice, I prayed and breathed deeply the entire way, everyone passed me, and I didn't go over 30 MPH. By the time I got to the bank I was a mess, I only had a few moments before they closed, I ran in, did my transaction, and then walked swiftly to the restroom (it's a branch inside a grocery store) where I vomited and then began to cry and freak out. After I calmed down, I texted a friend whom I had plans to meet to come and get me, and then Tom to tell him  I was NOT driving home. They both know me well enough to simply say "okay"

It was horrifying, but I made myself get out and do it the very next day. Why? Because I could very easily stop driving altogether, and that's not okay. I drove my sister yesterday and on the bad parts I was getting pretty anxious. She was annoyed by my anxiety, and over cautious driving, and kept asking why she couldn't just do it. I need to do it. It scares me to death, but I need to do it.

My point in telling you all this is to remind you that those are PEOPLE in those cars around you. People with issues, and stories, and reasons for driving like that. Please don't get mad when you see me creeping along on an icy road, please just pray for me, and pass me, nicely.  Even if it's not me, remember that you don't their story. You don't know if it's their first time driving since a horrific accident, you just don't know. So, please be kind and patient with us. We don't like being this way.