What the heck does "healthy" even mean?

Recent events have led me to reevaluate every portion of my life. Before all of this happened, I was ready to move to Stillwater, start life as a grad student/aspiring writer, and get in the best shape of my life. Now that it's seeming like Tucker's going to make it through this, I have to piece my life together as best I can, and make sure I'm living a good life that can lead myself and others to mental and physical health.

I went on my first diet at the end of my sophomore year in high school. I'd always been a little thick and more muscled than other girls my age, but when I stepped on the scale and saw that I weighed 181, I knew I wanted to lose weight.

Sophomore prom, right around 180 lbs.

I "successfully" lost weight and dropped down to a "healthier" weight of 161 at the lowest.
I looked thin, but I was obsessed about what I could or couldn't eat and spent the majority of my day thinking about what I would eat next.

Right around 165, after volleyball camp, before junior year.

I'd finally started to find some balance between my diet and fitness when I tore my ACL.

The brace did make for a good prop though.

I don't handle injuries well. By the end of the ordeal, I packed on all the weight I had lost and more. By the time my doctor cleared me for regular physical activity, I weighed 192 pounds.

Senior homecoming, right around 190lbs.

I didn't weigh myself over that six months, so I don't know whether that was my heaviest or not. I had a dream of competing in state weightlifting (since I'd broken 3 out of the 4 school records in the 165 weight class my junior year). So, I started dieting again. I did a little better about maintaining a healthy outlook, by eating healthy and just going for a 3 mile walk every evening. Six months later, I weighed 164 pounds and placed third at state weightlifting.

Here I am doing my absolute least favorite thing... in public. I weighed about 168 lbs here.

After that, I went to college and hovered around 175. I didn't diet hard, but I tried to work out at least a few times a week. It seemed like that was a healthy weight for my body.

My first/last/only picture with Willie. I weighed about 175.

Fast forward a year and a half and I returned from study abroad, sitting at 185 pounds.

It doesn't help when you have someone as handsome as Ty as your posing partner! (Weight is about 185.)

Also, the giant ice cream cones didn't help. #IIFYM

I started getting nervous, made resolutions with Ty to work out and get strong and healthy, so we signed up for a Crossfit membership.

I stayed around the same weight for my two months of Crossfit, but I got so much stronger. This is me around 184-188 lbs.

I loved Crossfit. It combined weightlifting, which I loved, and the competitive nature of high school sports, which I missed. Unfortunately, two months in, I sustained a back injury, which was only successfully diagnosed two months ago. A bulging disc. My back hurts almost all the time and it's taken all of my willpower to keep working out. I gained another ten pounds and now I'm sitting around 194--my heaviest weight ever.

I've gotta say... it's a pretty good looking 194 lbs. :)

I know I need to make some changes in order to be healthy. I realized one of the most important things in my life is to be able to do a cartwheel. (I know it sounds weird, but I explain it here.) So I'm trying to think about what healthy is to me. I'm trying to think about what I need to do to live well, so I'm making a list.

1. Start each day by sharing a cup of coffee with Jesus. Sure, I pray every night before bed and I send God a few prayers throughout the day, but I want to make scheduled dates with him other than on Sundays. I want to go to daily mass at least one day a week, and the other days of the week spend fifteen minutes in the morning getting to know Him better.
2. Let people know they are loved. After this whole deal, I've thought back to all my interactions with Tucker. It all boils down to one thought: Did he know how much I love him? Now the answer is "I think so" but in the future, if I'm ever wondering that question, I want it to be a resounding "yes." So every day, I will try to do something so someone in my life knows that someone cares about them.
   
3. Continue writing. Writing is a therapy and a passion for me. Writing time is not wasted time, so I want to know that I'm spending a couple of hours every other day doing something that makes me happy.
4. Exercise 3-4 times a week. Exercise benefits people in so many ways, and I need to invest in myself. My body is a temple, and I need to care for it as such.
   
5. Recreate my relationship with food. I hate depriving myself of anything. I need to treat "depriving" myself more like caring for myself so I can sustain whatever weight loss I have from living this healthier lifestyle.
   
6. Less Facebook, more face time. Facebook has been a way for me to feed my social anxiety and avoid meeting with people face to face. That's gotta change. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, social contact with other human beings is incredibly important for happiness. In a new place it will be especially hard, but one of my favorite phrases is "life begins outside of your comfort zone." Well, life is in session.
7. Don't let school consume my life. As an undergrad, I was obsessed with building my resume. I had a 4.0, community involvement, leadership skills, and no life. This time around, I'm going to ease off of resume building, and focus on life building.

There are a few general things I want to keep in mind: having a loving heart, being slow to anger (I really need to work on that one), being patient, actively seeking out new adventures, keeping a grateful attitude, and fully recovering from my back injury.

So, great, I have these seven steps and moral goals, and sure, seven is a lucky number, but how is that supposed to affect my life? Well, I'm still myself, and that means that I'm going to write every single one of these things into my planner and check them off of my to-do list each day. In my perfect day I would be able to do all seven of those things, but I can't. There's not enough time and I don't want to burn out.

I'm going to have some of the items be every day things, and some every other day to work on keeping balance. I'll shop and meal prep once a week so I can make sure I'm giving myself healthy options. The additional benefit is that since I'm living on a grad student stipend, I'll need to pinch pennies wherever I can and meal prep will help. For exercise, I'll attend the group classes that the Oklahoma State University rec center offers to keep working out fun and interesting, and that can double as some face time.

This is my tentative fitness schedule. I'm planning to have a big poster in my home so I can check off items as I complete them, and so I can see how consistent I'm being with my goals.

A few weeks ago (I can't believe it's been that long) when Mom and I were talking with her personal trainer, he told us that it takes a year to make a fitness habit. After a year, it's a part of your life, and you're more likely to stick with it. 

Planning is going to be key. I'll stick with this loose layout for a month, and then once the month is over, I'll reevaluate my goals and how well the system is working. A month is long enough to get settled into the habit, and also long enough to decide what I need to tweak to make it better. 

It seems like everyone's trying to get healthy. There are so many posts all over social media of photo-shopped women with six-pack abs, and augmented breasts, and it's hard to realize that that's not really realistic and it's not always healthy, and most of them have dedicated their entire lives to diet and exercise for years.

There are so many opinions about healthy living, and so much of it is absolute crap. So many people say you have to eat organic to be healthy. Research has proven that organic food isn't any healthier than conventionally raised food. They warn against BST (bovine growth hormone in dairy cattle that increases milk production) which our body processes as a protein and doesn't harm us at all. They warn against GMOs. The protein they engineer into corn comes from a bacteria that organic growers spray on their plants as a natural pesticide. Even the WHO claimed red meat is a carcinogen, without considering other dietary factors. (For example, a lot of red meat is grilled, and the char on the meat is a carcinogen.) The truth is, we know more about how to create a healthy, balanced diet for pigs than people. 

Crazy, we know.

The best thing we can do is eat foods in a good balance (protein, carbs, and fats), stay active, and stay mentally healthy. Learning about myself and what works has been a lifelong system of trial and error, so hopefully this is getting me on a better track.

Bless me or block me.

Just submitted my application to be a graduate student in agricultural communications at Oklahoma State University... praying that God either blesses me or blocks me. <3 All there is to do now is wait.

Somewhere over the rainbow...

A rainbow can have as many different meanings as there are raindrops that fall from the sky. It's the covenant between us and God protecting us from a wiping-out-the-entire-human-race-minus-a-few rain storm. It's the path Leprechauns follow to gold and happiness. It's a man named Roy G. Biv who helps teach children the color spectrum. It's a refraction of light on water droplets. It's the symbol of the end of a storm and the dawning of a new, more fruitful time. It's one of the many ways nature can show both its wrath and beauty in the span of minutes. Sometimes it's all of those things and more at once.

These past few days have definitely led me to feel the full spectrum of human emotion--the good, the bad, and the ugly. On Friday, September 18th, Ty and I took a roundabout way home to Western Kansas in order to celebrate the life of my grandmother. 

Because it's a 15 hour drive to Sharon Springs from Nashville (not including traffic) we decided it would be better to fly so we could have more time with family without missing so much school and wearing out our vehicles. So, we did what any logical human being would do, and flew from Nashville to Denver, and then rode from Denver to Sharon Springs, cutting our trip time in about half. 

Ty and me pre-blast off. Funny anecdote about that... just the Thursday prior, one of the priests was talking about flying, and he said, "Don't pray for me, pray for the pilot! If he makes it, we all make it." So from now on, the 2938473 Our Father's I say before flying are for the purpose of the pilot's safe journey!

When we landed in Denver, my cousin, Madeline, and her husband, Brayton, were there to pick us up. They're currently living in Denver, so it was really nice of them to let us hitch a ride to Kansas with them. I really enjoyed catching up with them, hearing how their classes and work were going, and meeting their new "child", a very even-keeled Toy Poodle named Daisy.

By the time we got to Sharon Springs it was already around 8PM, but we made time to eat some delicious cheesy jalepeno dip that my mother made, to socialize with Dustin, Kayla, Sophia, and Dominic, and even hang out with my sister Savanna(h), her manfriend, Tyler, and his little man, Tyler Jet. There are too many Tyler's in this family. (Savannah and Tyler, if you're reading this, can I call Little Ty "TJ" from here on out?) 

That night was actually a ton of fun, because we were all so excited to see each other and catch up. Also, because we discovered that multiple people in our family have alter egos. For those of you who don't know, I have an alter personality named "Rattlesnake Sue." The rootinest tootinest rattlesnake killinest cowgirl there ever was. Well, apparently my dad has an alter ego that is THE Hulk Hogan... and little Ty becomes little Hulk. I'm pretty sure the thing that won over Little Ty (TJ?) was dad literally ripping off his shirt and saying, "I am a truuueee Americannnn!" So I'm not sure why but little Hulk didn't like Rattlesnake Sue, and we had some fun with that. Little Hulk/Little Ty/(TJ?) also taught us some sick dance moves. I'm not sure where he learned them, but I need to meet up with his teacher! This kid could actually incorporate wiping snot off of his nose into a pretty fluid dance move without batting an eyelash. (A talent that would come in handy now considering I caught his cold, and boy is it a doosy.)

The next day with all that fun behind us, we got up, got dressed, and headed out to Grandma Hoss's house for the first time since her passing. I'm not sure what I expected to feel, but it just kind of felt weird. When I walked into her house, I was flooded with that warm feeling I always get from stepping into Grandma's house. I spent so much of my childhood and early adulthood there, with mostly pleasant memories. My pleasant memories were colored bitter with the knowledge that a home is just a house when the people you love aren't there.

So we milled about the property, finding odd jobs to do until it was time for Gram's Celebration of Life. Paul McNall, a local non-denominational pastor led the celebration. He presided over both my grandpa Hoss's and grandpa Mitchell's funerals. Gram also found great comfort in him, from praying with him for her daughter, Maralee, or speaking and praying with him as she battled cancer. It was great to have him there. His wife played the accordion, an instrument my gram always loved, to the song Amazing Grace. 

Since I'd written a visual narrative from an interview with Gram, my aunt had asked me if I wanted to speak at Gram's Celebration of Life. I said yes, because I really wanted to find a way to honor my grandmother, but I had so many doubts. Would I do her justice? Would I be able to keep it together? Would people think that someone else should have spoken? Would my talk be too long or too short? All doubts aside, I gave a short talk that maybe lasted a few minutes (something I think Gram would have liked) I made it through without totally breaking down, and when I finished, people clapped. I'm not sure whether people usually clap at funerals because I haven't been to one in quite a while, but I'm guessing that means I did alright.

After I gave my talk, my aunt, Lisa, read a poem that Gram had written about death back in 2002. I might be paraphrasing, but this is what Lisa said, and I totally agree: "When I first read it, I thought it was about death in general, but as I'm reading it now, I'm realizing that she was writing about her own death." I'll put her poem in another blog post, because it really is beautiful.

At the end of the service, we did a balloon release with bright yellow balloons. Grandma loved bright colors, so it was perfect. I think most people symbolize balloon releases as taking prayers and messages up to heaven, but I kind of thought of it as Gram's last act of adding beauty to a place that seemed so morose. Like her bright spirit had carried on through those whose lives she had impacted. Maybe that's just me being sentimental. 

When it had drawn to a close, we all made our way down to the shop to share a meal among family and friends. (Is it really a Hoss party if there isn't food and beer involved?) I met some family I didn't even know I had, and shared some thoughts with some of my closest loved ones.

Dakota refusing to let me get a candid picture of him.

My cousin Isabel, the self-proclaimed "starving artist" and Dakota together.

My husband and three-weeks-younger-than-I-am cousin, Chance.

And my aunts and uncles. Joke intended. If you don't get it, you're definitely not related.

After Gram's celebration of life, I walked through the prairie by her house on my own, and I cried. I thought of my gram and how I'll miss her dearly. I thought of how I was walking through the countryside that she loved so dearly. I thought about how life changes so much, how short it all is, but how long at the same time. 

Thoughts like that stick in your heart and can destroy you, so I make an effort not to dwell on them for long. I gave myself the walk from the pasture to the shop, and that was the end of it. Then I let my mind wander to more pleasant topics.

Like this pretty little girl's smile.

Or how amazing it is that kids can find such happiness beating the crap out of a literal piece of crap with a baseball bat.

Or how everyone can find joy in new life, no matter what age.

Or how being around children brings out the child in us all. Which reminds me of these verses (Matthew 18:1-5) 1At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. 3And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."

Before all the family had left, we met once again atop the hill to spread Gram's ashes across the prairie, which had been her desire. The Catholic Church believes in spreading ashes over a permanent place, and typically family farms don't qualify. This was different. Grandma wanted to be spread over God's creation, and what could be more permanent than that? Before we spread her ashes, family member took turns sharing thoughts and feelings about Gram. Some were short sweet words, some were brief and deeply felt, some cut short by unbridled sobs, and others yet were quirky anecdotes--all were a perfect testament of our grandmother, great-grandmother, mother, aunt, and friend.

The day ended on a good note. My cousins, Isabel and Michelle, stayed at grandma's house that night with my brother, Dakota, my husband, Ty, and me. My uncle, Wyatt, came over and chatted and before the night was over some new family friends showed up and we spent the night talking about all things country.

Morning came and a new day dawned upon us, whether we were ready to say goodbye to yesterday or not. We celebrated my aunt, Maralee's 33rd birthday with cake and presents, our family members said their goodbyes, and I spent most of the day going through old pictures and cleaning Gram's house from the carnage that is typical of a family gathering. Ty and I went to the movies in Sharon Springs that night. Tickets are only five dollars a piece (they only take cash or check), and with popcorn, a dill pickle, and a large pop, we only spent $14.50. The Strand Theatre is a pretty cool place, because it's mostly run by volunteers, so it's great to see how wonderful something can be when members of the community step up and pitch in.

After the movie we visited my sister, Savanna(h), and her manfriend, Tyler, at their home in Sharon Springs. It's always weird visiting my baby sister when she's living her grownup life. We had a nice "grownup" talk and then Ty and I headed back out to grandma's house.

Another morning was upon us, and our time in Wallace County was passing so much more quickly than I had intended. Mom and Tucker came to see us before they headed back home to Manhattan, Kansas. Ty and I continued cleaning and going through pictures, we spent some time visiting with Dad and Wyatt, we went to Goodland to run some errands, and we brought the night in teaching Ty about how silage is made and used. (It's the next topic for Reminisce Visual Narratives, so stay tuned!)

Ty watching from his perch on Wyatt's flatbed pickup.

Wyatt's dog, Snoopy, waiting for some pets.

Dad standing in front of the bi-directional he was using to make/form/pack the pile of silage.

Dad and Wyatt driving tractors over the pile, even as the sun sets.

An artistic depiction of tractor headlights.

The silage chopper pouring freshly chopped sorghum into the truck.

Sadly, after that night, our last day in Western Kansas was nigh upon us. We spent the next morning packing and working online (for me) and studying (for Ty). We had a brief conversation with my uncle, Wyatt, said our goodbyes, and headed thirty miles West to my dad's house. Before too long, we were driving to Denver.

Dakota met us in Goodland for our "last supper" in Kansas for the time being. It was at Steak n' Shake. (We keep things classy 'round here.) I had a buttery burger (the South is growing on me) and we had a great conversation. Dakota's going to school for respiratory therapy, and I am so proud of him for how hard he's been working at his part-time job, CNA classes, and his actual classes. Now that I'm typing it, I'm so impressed at how busy he's been, and I'm sure he'll continue along the path to success, whatever that means to him personally.

Ty, Dad, and I left from Goodland and made the three-hour-long trip to Denver where we stayed the night before getting up (too) bright and early for our 9AM flight to Nashville. I kept things interesting by booking a hotel 22.1 miles away from the airport (I thought it was 2.21 miles away) and (almost) losing both my phone and driver's license. Thank God my head is attached. Thank God Ty and Dad were patient with me. And Thank God I found both my phone and driver's license.

On a more unfortunate note, over the last couple of days, I've developed a raging head cold, so our going away picture looked more like this: 

Of course Ty looks handsome as always. I resorted to the duck face since smiling was painful.

I guess I always have mixed feelings about Wallace County and now's as good of time as any to reflect on them. I've had more than my fair share of hard times there, and made more than my fair share of mistakes growing up. I'm still growing up. This trip was made even more complex since we were going home to say our final goodbye to Grandma Hoss. But, like Gram, I find so much peace and beauty in the prairie there. The prairie is my rainbow. It's faced so many hard times: drought, flash flood, fires, winds, tornadoes, extreme heat and cold, the heavy force of people, animals, vehicles, and heavy machinery, blinding light, the darkest night, and more, but somehow it's still there, still persevering, still producing beautiful food for livestock, and for our souls. It's God's untouched creation laid out before us, his masterpiece for the few of us lucky enough to lay eyes upon it. So as long as there's a prairie out there in Wallace County, even through all the happy and sad moments, there'll always be a home there for me.

Percy Priest and God's Church

Two nights ago, Ty and I ventured out into the wild blue yonder... Okay, well, we ventured south of Nashville--which is basically the same thing--to Percy Priest Lake. We were planning on going swimming, but apparently the parks here close at 7PM. So we just ended up walking around this lake.

I caught this nice view right before the sun was about to go down. I enhanced the picture a little bit so that you can really see how it looked in person.

Then this duck came out, and I just had to get a picture of his dark form against the sunset waters. Even though I'm pretty adamant about how disgusting ducks are, this little guy was very beautiful.

As we walked around, we looked out over the lake, and saw these guys fishing. I thought about how nice it would be to sit on a boat in the middle of a lake, untouched by what's going on around me, waiting for a fish to bite, but not caring whether one did or not. Man, would that be peace and relaxation.

Sometimes I wonder why we build all these fancy churches when we we just have to step outside to worship and admire God's creations. When you appreciate that, the whole world is your church. :)

Flowers

I don't know what to feel, but I'm trying not to stop and think on it for too long. When I do stop and think, it's all a blur of emotions. It's like I stepped into the period between night saying goodbye and dawn saying hello. There's so much confusion. Is the day coming, or is the night?

Someone told me once that people are like flowers, and God only plucks the perfect ones to bring to heaven, and at the time that resonated with me. Of course, people die too young, and that would make sense that they had passed some sort of test already and were so wonderful that they got to go to heaven, but now I know that's all wrong.

My grandma was a beautiful flower. She wasn't perfect; none of us are. She could stand as sturdy as an oak, as flexible as a bow string, as determined as the sun, as mysterious as the midnight sky, as kind as a hot shower after a long day of work, and as reliable as the ground beneath your feet. So when I think that people only get into heaven once they've bloomed, I can't quite agree, because my grandma lived to be 84 years old, and I know for sure that she had been in bloom for quite some time.

So when I stop to think about my grandma, I think about what an amazing person she was to have in my life. We definitely didn't always get along, but you can't get along with someone 100% of the time. I think of how sad it was that she had to suffer before she went to heaven to meet Jesus and to reunite with the rest of her family in heaven. I think that it was good she was able to go quickly enough when her time came and that her suffering didn't last years on end like it could have.

I smile to myself when I think of her first reunion with her family. Grandma was right a lot of the time, and if someone disagreed with her, she had to have an "I told you so" moment. So I imagine her standing next to Grandpa, walking up to her parents who were (understandably) concerned about her marrying a man 22 years older than her and saying, "Look at us now." I don't know why, but that thought just makes me smile and cry at the same time.

I wonder if I'll ever feel like she's watching over me before we get to reunite in heaven. Several of my friends have told stories of times when they've felt like their loved one was speaking to them from the other side. I hope that will happen to me because I already miss her like crazy.

And after those warming thoughts pass through my mind, I inevitably think of all the things that will be different now. I'm afraid of the first time I go back home to Western Kansas, and realize that I won't ever be going to "grandma's house" in the same way again. I won't be greeted with a hug and a smile when I walk through the door, and there won't be my grandma there offering to make me Schwann's chocolate chip cookies or chicken strips. She won't be sitting in her chair, snacking on a small candy bar, ready to talk with me about life, school, or even politics (which we stringently disagreed on about 90% of the time). She won't be there to tell me to go outside after we've been inside watching TV for too long, or encourage my siblings to go help Dad or Wyatt do some work around the ranch.

I won't be able to call her on the phone for a quick, thirty-minute chat, and end up saying goodbye after two hours.

I won't be able to be certain that there's a card coming in the mail for my birthday with some illegible handwriting and some money tucked in. I won't be pleasantly (or unpleasantly, depending on the occasion) surprised when one of her letters comes in the mail.

I won't have her there at my next graduation (if I decide to go back to school). She won't be there to see Ty's and my first child (if we are blessed with one). She won't be able to make the trip to come see our new home, which she had planned on before cancer got in the way.

And then I remind myself that God has his own plan, and that I'm grateful that her suffering came to an early end.

And then I think that it might be another sixty years before I get to see my grandma face to face, and I cry all over again.

And then, in the midst of all the tears, I have the thought that sends me over the edge: I forgot to ask her what her favorite kind of flower was.

An Easter to Remember

Hey this is Ty, the other half of the Stelting clan on this blog (the not so pretty half). This previous week I was lucky enough to be Baptized and Confirmed into the Catholic Church. My experiences with the Catholic Church before this were full of “mysteries” and questioning the sanity of this institution. I decided that, to rationalize this, I needed to join a process that would allow me to understand this chanting and crazy body and blood thing they call communion. I joined RCIA and now I completely understand why we do the things we do and I have no clue why I didn’t do this sooner!

First off, I joined the RCIA process to become a catholic and get our marriage blessed. I had no real drive to Catholicism because it seemed like the same thing to me as compared to other churches. Once they started showing me the meaning behind the rituals, sacraments, and prayers, I began to understand that Catholicism is not just a religion. It’s a way of life. The meaningfulness, love, and hope that I have gained through Christ and his Church has manifested itself through the Catholic faith and ways of teaching. I used to think that Catholics were all these tests and memorizations just to get to stand up and get bread. However, it is not, we now get to understand the true meaning behind the Eucharist (communion) and the meaning behind the Creed. It changed my life like no other organization has.

Now that I have that all out in the open, I really wanted to talk about Holy Week. Holy Week is the last week of lent that is truly sacred and an emotional time for us. There are three ceremonies that I was able to go to but there is importance in every day. I will talk about each and every one that I went to and how it was able to help me feel closer to Jesus and what he went through and the meaning that it had for me.

Palm Sunday

On Palm Sunday, you walk into the Church and grab a single palm leaf and go sit down. I always wondered why until I was explained to that it was the same thing that was held up by the people of Jerusalem as Jesus entered. So to celebrate this we physically went outside the sanctuary, prayed to Jesus and held up our palms. Then we walked back to our seats within Jerusalem and reenacted the scenes of how we, the people, who just welcomed Jesus, turned on Him and crucified Him. This was powerful for me because it rooted in me that when we sin, we turn our back on Him. He then died to remind us that no matter what we do, He will always care for us and sacrifice for our love.

Good Friday

Then I went to no other mass because I am lazy and a college student in 21 hours. I wanted to go to Holy Thursday to see the washing of the feet and how they undress the altar. Instead I attended Good Friday mass. We went to Seven Dolors, which I think is a weird name because it is a Spanish/English mix meaning seven pains. It now makes sense because the mass Kelsie and I went to was done in Spanish and English.

Seven Dolors Church

The church is beautiful and the Spanish singer Jorge was absolutely breathtaking. We once again reenacted the moments that led up to the crucifixion and all the way to His death. We read scriptures and sang very emotional song. Women who sat three pews ahead of us were actually crying.

This is the night we venerate the cross which looks like this: 

One-by-one we walked up there and touched, bowed, and even kissed the cross to show the overall importance that Jesus’ sacrifice was. It was truly the pinnacle of the whole service. At our usual church that we go to, they actually dropped huge nails into a bucket. This is just to remind us how real this was and how the death of Christ, God’s only begotten son, was purely for us.

Easter Vigil

The importance of Easter vigil is a celebration of the entrants into the church. I was one of those people who had never been baptized so I joined the portion of the group that had to be bathed naked…okay we just had water poured over our head. Fully clothed (thank God for everyone else who would have had to see me). This was meaningful because I had been sinning for many years and the priest would have had to sit through a one hour confession. I will still try and confess any that lead up to it but this literally washed some weight off my shoulders haha.

The next part was the part that made me worry the most because for a little while, I thought we were going to have oil poured on our head…

Needs some face wash...

That is a zit factory waiting to happen…

Like this guy but only with good smelling oil. Thankfully they didn’t they just added a little to the top of our head and the front of the forehead. They call it chrism oil because it is blessed by our bishop.

But enough about me; this is the mass where we get our holy water for the year and light the candle that will remain lit for over the whole year. All the confirmed and baptized had their first communion and finally got to taste that wonderful sacrament.

Conclusion

It all really meant a lot to me; if it wasn’t for all the help from Kelsie, Steven, and the entire RCIA team, I would not have had a life changing experience. I always wanted to become a more thoughtful, kind, and loving person. I could have done it before but now, I have a road map and a guide that I feel like I can now understand more and interpret the word the way God wanted ME to do.

Here are some of the people that really helped me through just this night.

Kelsie and I

L-R: Father Don Zimmerman, me, and Steven Miller(my amazing sponsor)  in front of the Altar.

Deacons of the parish, L-R: Larry Erpelding, me, Wayne Talbot, and Buzz Harris


THANKS FOR READING!!! 

The Danger of the Romance Novel

Have you ever read a really good book? The kind where you become a character in the story. Like you can hear, smell, see, and touch the surroundings described to you in the pages? What about a romance novel? Have you been swept off your feet by a brave and daring knight? Or have you been charmed by that awkward kid in braces who eventually grows into a handsome man with an equally dazzling personality? Have you been the girl no one noticed, finally matched with that perfect soul mate who gives you the ultimate combination of intrigue and comfort?

I have.

In fact, romance novels and romantic comedies have always been my book or movie of choice. It’s almost impossible to leave the theater feeling happy after watching a movie like Crazy Stupid Love or When Harry Met Sally, or even the Notebook. A romantic story is adventurous, brave, hope-inducing, and almost always has a happy ending… what’s so wrong with that? I hadn’t given it much thought until I heard this question. “What is porn for women?” Porn is a great divider in many marriages—and let’s face it—is predominantly geared towards men. Men are visual creatures, and because of this, easily fall into the trap of sexy women in a visual fantasy designed for male pleasure. But what do women get off on? Women are emotional beings. We desire deeper connections and relationships. We want to care and be cared for. So the answer to the previous questions is, “The romance novel.” This has been demonstrated by the astounding popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s not like EL James is some prodigal author. The only thing the author has done is play to our culture, and some of our misguided desires.

Our culture views marriage through distorted lenses. If you disagree with me, please feel free to reference the 40 to 50% divorce rate in the United States. Children are taught the wonders of marriage from early on. Every single popular princess story involves a beautiful girl getting married to a prince and living “happily ever after.” Children are taught that getting married to that one perfect man that will satisfy each of their longings. We’re told don’t get married young because your twenties are for being selfish. We’re taught that if it doesn’t work out with someone you can simply divorce them and look for the new solution (a man) to your problem. What we should be telling children is that there is no such thing as a “soul mate.”

Each and every one of us is flawed. There is no way that two flawed people can come together to form a perfect union. It is impossible. God is the only one who can join a couple in a perfect union. This means that He is the most important aspect of marriage. When we recognize we can’t build a “perfect” marriage on our own, it’s much easier to love our spouses for the people they are, instead of the people we wish they could be, or the perfect men they could be as depicted by a novel.

When we read a novel, part of it takes hold in our hearts. We see a man perform a grand gesture, and we think, “Why can’t my husband do that?” Or we hear of a friend’s husband who always brings home flowers, and we think, “Hey, some flowers would be nice.” This hurts us and our marriages. It hurts our future spouses, because they have a fictional character to live up to, and they don’t even know it.

So put those romance novels down. Because even though having someone to do dishes with doesn’t sound good on paper, it makes for a hell of a good life.