NOLA Series: Beauty for Ashes

In this final NOLA Series post, Erika writes about experiencing God's love through her senses, and how that has affected her journey.

Many months ago, my spiritual director gave me an exercise. She suggested I pray for God to show me His love through my senses--taste, sight, smell, touch, sound. For an over-thinker like me, this proved disastrous. I kept making the prayer complicated by focusing on what I did not understand--HOW--and then I kept analyzing everything until I just gave up and told myself, "this is stupid."

And I moved on. Forgot about all the messy prayer-like words I'd uttered in half-faith. Then Chris and I went to a wedding in New Orleans. We ate and drank our way through the French Quarter the next day. I have a sweet tooth for sure, but I'm picky. I have standards, people. I'd heard of this artisan bakery called Sucré, so I half-dragged, half-rolled a very full Chris there one evening. We ordered our homemade, artsy desserts and espresso, climbed to the second story of this converted old house, and sat on the balcony with our sweets. It was perfect, y'all. Late evening, breeze blowing, jazz blaring from the street below, and I had a shmancy dessert.

I took a bite of my white chocolate bread pudding with brown butter gelato (girl, yes), and I closed my eyes, paused out of respect for the greatness, and blurted out "This tastes like Jesus loves me." We laughed.

Then it hit me and I said "OH MY GOD THIS TASTES LIKE JESUS LOVES ME!" And BAM, love washed over me. I felt LOVED.It's hard to explain what that was like. I looked around again at the beauty of my plate, the balcony, the ornate boxes Sucré uses to wrap their confections,and at Chris's slightly stunned but handsome face. I took in the smell of the sweet breeze, felt it against my face, heard the saxophone in the distance, and was surrounded by love. My life felt like a gift for the first time in over a year.
Depression does one main thing (you can read more about my experience here): it mutes your ability to see and experience beauty. The beauty of your own soul, of others' souls, of food and music and friendship. Of being ALIVE. All of that is obscured, twisted, and smothered by depression. In that moment I truly felt an explosion of beauty.

We are drawn to that, I think. To experiences of beauty. In April I started a journey as a stylist with Stella & Dot. I cannot adequately express how CRAZY that leap felt to me! I was still battling so much depression and anxiety. I did NOT feel beautiful or put together at all. This Erika, a stylist? But something about this company, the women who run it, and the artistry that goes into it drew me in. And looking back I see that some buried part of me was desperate for beauty in my life. Not superficial beauty, but beauty in ordinary things (like a necklace) that would point me to God's I LOVE YOU. To the words I so desperately needed to believe about myself: "you have something good to offer this world."  That is a big part of Stella & Dot's mission and message--that we each have a gift only we can offer the world, and we must search it out and offer it however we can. Sometimes that happens through a gathering of friends over wine & jewelry. Hey, I can't look down on that--it saved me in so many ways! I love a trunk show because it's where I get to see and celebrate the beauty in other women. It's about watching a friend try on a pair of earrings and genuinely saying, "you have such a beautiful smile!" It's about finding the good in another person.

The women I've met through Stella & Dot are incredible, and I think I know why. We are, all of us, drawn to a community of acceptance, celebration, and yes – beauty. We carry in our hands the fragile pages of a story authored by our adversities, insecurities, and desires. And we long for someone to read those pages and tell us, "this is an amazing story. This is a story I want to know." We want to be known and loved as we are. In these new friends I see all of that. We are all broken, all beautiful, and we fiercely believe the good in one another.

Much of my battle against depression hinges on getting back to basics--back to seeing the precious value in ordinary moments. A good night's sleep, a balanced meal, couch cuddles with my daughters. I know now that this is how I will win:  By cherishing the sound of jazz floating on a humid breeze, the taste of good food, the color and feel of a hand cut stone set in metal. I will win by feeling the darkness that surrounds me while clutching to my chest the light of hope reflected by my children, family, friends, and all my Stella sisters. I will seek, there in the deepest pit, the thick rope of Grace, hold on to it, and let it lift me up.

Fitness is Not Always About Going Beastmode

I love the struggle, the battle. I love the pressure that builds up in my head when arching hard and lowering the bar to my sternum in order to blast it back up. My head feels like it's about to pop. I look forward to getting the barbell in that perfect spot between my lower delts and my traps creating the perfect shelf to load body crushing weights on my back in order to squat down and push the world away from me in order to stand back up. I can't weight (see what I did there) to get to the gym, load the bar, and grab hold. As I attempt to push the ground away in order to pull the loaded weights off the ground the skin on my hands feels like it is about to rip off due to gravity pulling the weight in the opposite direction. Sometimes my skin does indeed rip off and I have to clean the blood off of the bar. In these moments I am proud.

But, not everyone enjoys this. Not everyone is trying to lift as much weight their body can handle before breaking. Not everyone is looking to be shredded to step on stage and be a living, breathing, sculpted statue. Not everyone is seeking some medal or achievement. Some people, just want to be able to move like a human and have a better quality of life. And some people, are in the gym and on the field to do just that. It's those people that can reach out to those turned off by the hardcore gym type that looks down on others who lifting past 200lbs or the shredded cardio junkie trying to motivate you past ecstasy.

Check this video out. I love her passion for fitness and people:

Pope Francis is Not From the French Revolution

The terms “left” and “right” when it comes to political ideologies originated during the French Revolution (Thanks Michael Gormley of Lay Evangelist and Catching Foxes for the history lesson).  The members of the National Assembly would divide the room with those supporting the King on the right and those supporting the revolution on the left. Pope Francis is on neither side.

With the Pope’s visit to the Unites States, Conservatives and Liberals are losing their minds! The Pope is a liberal! The Pope is a Conservative! I am closer and closer to totally giving up talk radio.

I’ve really come to see that Conservative talking heads and Liberal talking heads are really the same exact thing, just on opposite sides of the aisle. They both say they are searching for the truth but as long as it’s their truth. And, for some of them, the Pope is not speaking their truth.That makes him the enemy.

I think the big fiasco going on in my mind is the debate over whether the Pope has come to the U.S. to make political statements. On a radio show I was listening to the person on the scene at the White House was asking people what they thought the Pope’s intentions were with all his statements about religion, the family, marriage, abortion, immigration,the death penalty, the environment, etc. She said that she was shocked because everyone she spoke to thought he was making spiritual comments as his position as spiritual guide.She, as do many talking heads, think he is coming with a political agenda.But, these topics are all matters of faith. They are how we interact with each other as well as the rest of creation.

Frankly, I’m shocked how so many people, even people who claim to be people of faith, can separate one aspect of our society from their faith and not others. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be shocked, we’re always trying to make our faith, Jesus, our Church the faith, Jesus, and Church that WE want and not live in reality of what they are.

Our faith should dictate everything in our lives. That includes anything that may be considered political. My favorite topic that the Conservatives lose their minds over is the environment. I don’t think you have to agree with the Pope on ideas on HOW to protect the environment, but I would think that most people believe we should protect it. I mean, God only commands us to do so: "The LORD God then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it" - Genesis 2:15. On the same radio show I mentioned above, the host mentioned that the environment isn’t even in the top 50 of things she’s worried about. What? You complain about the deficit and Obama Care and how we are leaving a huge debt for our children, but what about actually leaving them a planet? How about leaving some trees for them to produce oxygen? How about cleaning up our manufacturing practices to keep that air clean? While we’re at it, how about some clean water too? We won’t have anything if we don’t have a place to live and thrive. Take a look at countries that don’t have environmental regulations. A lot of them are third world countries. The conditions they live in are horrid.

But, this is America I guess. We are so pampered that we can find anything to complain about, including the Pope speaking Spanish, his first language, instead of English.

What the media doesn’t realize is that Pope Francis is doing exactly what he and the Church are commissioned on this Earth to do. Let’s see what the Church said in the Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes – Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World:

2. Now that the Second Vatican Council has deeply studied the mystery of the Church, it resolutely addresses not only the sons of the Church and all who call upon the name of Christ, but the whole of humanity as well, and it longs to set forth the way it understands the presence and function of the Church in the world of today.    Therefore, the world which the Council has in mind is the whole human family seen in the context of everything which envelopes it;

4. At all times the Church carries the responsibility of reading the signs of the time and of interpreting them in the light of the Gospel, if it is to carry out its task. 

11. The people of God believes that it is led by the Spirit of the Lord who fills the whole world. Moved by that faith it tries to discern in the events, the needs, and the longings which it shares with other men of our time, what may be genuine signs of the presence or of the purpose of God. For faith throws a new light on all things and makes known the full ideal which God has set for man, thus guiding the mind towards solutions that are fully human.

“We have to be careful not to pick one item in isolation," he said. “The Holy Father comes as a pastor and as a prophet, and as a prophet he comes with a certain moral voice." - Louisville Archbishop Joseph Kurtz 

Spiritual Bodybuilding

Frank Zane

I’m a bodybuilding fan. I appreciate the hard work that goes into one’s diet and training. I like the idea of the body being a canvas and training to make it a piece of art. If you look back through history at classical pieces of art whether paintings or physiques sculpted out of stone, the artists chose rather magnificent physiques to portray.

David

Herakles

But, what if? What if we treated our spiritual life, our prayer life, our relationship with God in the same manner, with the same vigor, with the same hard work and struggle as a bodybuilder? A professional bodybuilder will map out their off season for growth and their competition season to get as lean as possible while maintaining as much muscle as possible. They are meticulous with their diet and training. They get their bodies down to a science. They know exactly how a certain food will affect them, they know the type of training that works best for them. And as they age they will make very meticulous and calculated tweaks to adjust to the changes their body makes.

Laocoon and his Sons

What if we took our faith life this serious? What if we had a game plan for prayer? What if we had a defense system set for different temptations? What if we knew ourselves so well that we knew what to avoid so as not to get off track spiritually? What if we had the courage to say no to harmful situations just as a bodybuilder has the courage and will power to say know to cheating on their diet and not going out and partying so they can stay healthy and get needed rest? What if we took the time to study the wisdom of the Church and Holy Scripture to learn the best way to live our lives? What if when we are sick with sin we go to confession? What if we fed ourselves with the ultimate diet of the Eucharist, Christ Himself? How would this world be different with people living their faith intentionally and not making BS excuses and trying to rationalize things and make Jesus the Jesus they want?

Check out this video of Jon Delarosa (big fan of his physique). This video goes through the different therapies, the extra steps beyond diet and training to get his body to operate at peak performance. What if, we treated our souls this way, to become holier? Just check out the video and imagine he is talking about his spiritual life instead of his body. Imagine doing whatever it takes to be holy and live otherworldly with vertical wildness.

Back to Art

I used to draw. I don’t remember what got me started, but I used to draw all of the time. I enjoyed art, creating and admiring. It’s actually this appreciation that got me interested in comic books. I never followed comic books correctly as in following the storylines. I went to the comic store, found the most interesting cover based on the illustration (I did have my favorites though, X-Men, Spiderman, Superman, etc), and I’d buy that one. I also, used to collect comic books.

I used to listen to and discover a lot of music. I would look in the cd booklet, turn to the thank yous, and look up all the bands that that particular band or musician was thanking. I also used to play guitar a lot.

I realized a few years ago that I had cut a lot of art out of my life. I stopped drawing and guitar because I just stopped taking the time. I stopped collecting comic books because when I moved to Texas I just never bothered to find a store and pick it back up. I stopped buying music because I just got really cheap. None of these are good excuses.

But why  has this come up?  Why has it bothered me so much that I let these things fade out of my life?  I think I realized how much I missed them due to the reminders I receive daily of friends talking about new bands they’ve discovered and the explosion of super hero movies, to name a few.

I think I realized my loss of art is when I’d spend so much time not making art. I’d find myself just skimming the internet and social media, binging on Netflix, watching Youtube video after Youtube video. And don’t get me wrong, movies, and tv, and videos can be powerful art. I guess you could say I was taking part in the art by appreciating it, but there is something about being involved in the art, creating, that is healing, invigorating, and holy.

So I have begun taking steps to bring art back into my life. I started this blog, for one, but another step was to get back into comics. I honestly think God wanted me back there. He put quite a few people in my life who are fans and who read comics. The conversations I’d have with these people weren’t juvenile discussions of muscles and powers, but they went deep into character, plot, and intention. I’m following multiple stories and appreciating the art, the story, the creativity, and the ability for this one comic company to weave so many stories within one big event throughout multiple different titles. And honestly, it has been a great source of release for me. There have been many nights where to unwind I go to the quietest part of the house and enter Marvel’s Battleworld and see what Old Man Logan is doing, or how is Colossus going to save his sister, or how is Dr. Doom going to keep control as Battleworld’s god.

Art saves. Art teaches. Art heals. As a Catholic I can look back over the history of the Church and see the power of art. The paintings, catacombs, manuscripts, and cathedrals all had one purpose, and that purpose was to bring people closer to God. They were meant to teach the faith to an illiterate world. God is an artist. Just look around and listen. Birds singing. The roar of the waves at a beach. The view from every mountain top. Let’s take part. Let’s create. Let’s save.

Check out these two stories. One is about a mother and her tattoos. The other is a four part series by Scott Erickson. It’s a really powerful take on art and it’s power. Aside from disagreeing with his tired religion rant in the final episode, it’s a beautiful series. I highly encourage you to read and watch.

Primal Happy Place: My Tattoo Story

Why the Church Needs Art

NOLA Series: Worth Saving

In this post Erika, my awesome wife, shares one of her experiences in New Orleans as well as shares her journey. She has come such a long way and I'm so proud of her. I am so amazed at her courage to share her journey.

One year ago, in the wake of Robin William’s suicide, I wrote a journal entry about my own struggle with depression. His loss remains an unbearable theft, and the truth of what depression does to beautiful human beings like Robin must be told. One very important thought before I go any further: depression is an illness just like diabetes or hypothyroidism. One can’t wish, dream, or pray it away (if only). I have thought long and hard about what my sharing this will evoke in people I know and love. I decided that removing the stigma from mental illness is not possible unless those of us who battle it are willing to speak out regardless of others’ reactions. 

The following is a brief excerpt of that journal entry from August 2014. I realize that for those of you who know me personally, this will be hard to read. But it’s the truth.

            I have thought about death. I have stood on the rooftop terrace of a swanky apartment building and wondered whether falling would obliterate the knot of pain rooted in my chest. I have believed, for brief moments, that my family would be so much better off without my complicated, emotional presence. I've driven down a winding road and been terrified by the thought that it would be so easy to just drive the car into a ditch. I've thought about The Awakening, and wondered whether Edna Pontellier found the freedom she so desperately sought in the rise and fall of that infinite ocean.
            I could be alone if I wanted, there at the bottom of that pit. You know the one. That ugly word people either dismiss or suppress. Depression. Sometimes it seems more practical and comfortable to isolate myself. But what a waste. What a waste of love and joy and laughter. What a waste of opportunities to touch people, to help them, to be human. I love happiness. I crave it. I crave hope and the beauty of dreams. I love laughter and making people laugh because it is life-giving.

As I reflect on the last year of my life, a year in which I have fought against a darkness so powerful that I often feared it would swallow me, I feel equal parts grief and gratitude. I grieve the fact that my youngest daughter’s first year of life was a painful, shadowy blur for me. Everything was a struggle. Getting up, basic care, breastfeeding. It all took so much effort that I barely remember the good times.
I grieve the fact that I wanted to die—that I spent any time at all thinking about that.

I am also deeply, wholly grateful. I am grateful for the Church and its ministries. I am grateful for counseling, medication, and spiritual direction—all of which have been vital to my ongoing recovery. And my goodness I am grateful for my husband and his parents. Three more unconditionally generous, supportive, and loving individuals I have not found.

In May of this year, Chris and I had the wonderful gift of being able to attend a friend’s wedding in New Orleans. Just the two of us. It was truly a breath of jazzy, sultry fresh air. The day following the wedding we attended Mass at the St. Louis Cathedral, and the priest shared a story in his homily. Bear with me—I promise it fits in with my own. He spoke of a young woman, Michelle, whom he met through a church ministry that helps convicted felons find work and a safe place to live. Michelle had been addicted to heroin for years. She had stolen from loved ones, lied to them, and poisoned her body. And she ended up abandoned by her so-called friends and left for dead. She went to prison. There in her cell, Michelle began to read the Bible, and she was overcome by the feeling that she was loved and worth saving.

Those words struck and then washed over me. Worth saving. I began to weep that this woman who had seen the depths of darkness and sin believed she was worth saving, yet I had over and over denied the same truth for myself. Out of pride I believed that if I could not save myself then I was not worth saving. Pride in a person suffering from depression is so dangerous. Pride told me that I didn’t need anybody else—not even God. Alone in that place, I could have died believing I was not worth saving. And that thought brings me back to today and to the loss of our beloved Robin Williams.

I have such a hard time looking at his face, at his eyes especially.  Perhaps I’m projecting or imagining it, but I see pain there that I know, and it gnaws at my sense of wellness and recovery. And I wonder if mental illness, deep, deep sadness, and maybe pride convinced him that he just wasn’t worth saving. My God what a terrible loss. What an unbearable theft of life.

Confession: I feel a little guilty at this point. I don’t know the answers to questions we all have—namely, why? What I have is my own experience, and the fact that I recognize that someone suffering from mental illness often stands (many times over) at the edge of some unfathomable precipice, and that the difference between life and death can be a single damn moment in which someone helps you believe that you are worth saving. WORTH. SAVING. And that is why we have to belong to each other. This is not to say that any one person can bear the responsibility of saving a suicidal loved one. Patty Griffin writes that “you can’t make somebody see with the simple words you say/ all their beauty from within/ and sometimes they just look away.” What I am saying is that we often assume that people who seem okay don’t need us, and that is so far from the truth. Those who need the most help often seem like strongest among us. What I am saying is that we must be kind to one another, and that we need to make the effort to connect personally with those we love. A phone call, a text, a visit. So much power in simply saying to someone, “Hey. I think you are wonderful.”

So, I will say to you what I wish with all my heart I could have said to Robin: you are necessary. The biggest most evil lie you could possibly believe is that you don’t matter. You matter so much it hurts. Please choose life every day and always. You are worthy of love, you are worthy of hope. You. are. worth. saving.

**If you are having thouhts of harming yourself, you can call 1-800-273-TALK  for help. In Houston, this is where I am getting help for my depression. I could not recommend them more. The compassion, the attention, and the absolute confidence they have in me—these are hard to find in one medical practice!

Caritas Complete Women’s Care (for Post Partum Depression): http://caritasfertilitycare.com/

Gratia Plena Counseling (for general counseling needs): http://www.gratiaplenacounseling.org/

NOLA Series: Called to Greatness

In May, Erika and I had the pleasure of spending 5 days in New Orleans for my friend’s wedding. I knew this weekend was going to be filled to the brim with fun. Late nights, sleeping in, tons of food and plenty to drink, and it was! But, little did we know that there was going to be an abundance of spiritual growth and enlightenment. I’m going to have a two part series about our weekend. I’ll write one post, and Erika will write another.

 

 The main reason for the power of this weekend for Erika and I was the amazing group of people we spent these days with. My friend used to work for Life Teen so naturally he grew to have strong friendships with some incredibly holy, talented, and hilarious people. We got to worship, celebrate mass, talk, joke, eat, drink, dance, and share with such amazing people; former missionaries, priests, praise and worship leaders and artists. It was in these moments that God truly spoke to us in the heart of the French Quarter of New Orleans.

After the Saturday Vigil mass at St. Louis Cathedral we went to Muriel’s on Chartres Street. Many different conversations ensued as we dined over our differing meals. The turtle soup was definitely the star of the table. The Cleveland vs. Chicago playoff game was on at the bar and Fr. got up a few times to check the score. When he came back he and a couple of the other guys were talking about some players and their skills and what it takes to be good.

They went on to discuss the marvel it is to be in the presence or to be able to watch someone who has quite literally perfected their craft. It is only a small percentage of people that make it to the professional ranks of their sport, artistry, or skill. That’s when Fr. started to drop the wisdom. He started talking about how it is those that put in the work that succeed. Someone can be born with natural talent, but they can be overcome by someone with less natural talent but who puts in the time to perfect what they do have. He went on to talk about the theory of 10,000 hours.

The theory goes that to achieve excellence or to become an expert in something, you will need to have put in at least 10,000 hours of work. And this means real work, not just going through the motions of something you already do well; 10,000 hours of deliberate training. Fr. knew a kid who went to a concert and his mind was blown by the guitarist in the band. From that day on he was determined to excel as a guitarist. He had never played in his life. He put in the work. He committed to playing multiple hours a day. He eventually formed the most popular band in his state, and is now a nationally known artist. Sorry, I can’t for the life of me remember the band.

It’s here where father started moving into the depths. He talked about all these athletes have achieved greatness in their own right. Here’s where he brought it home. He then said that we are all called to greatness, spiritual greatness. God as not called, has not chosen us to be mediocre, to live humdrum lives. Jesus did not die on a cross so that we can mosey on through life. No, we are called to greatness. And this isn’t a flashy greatness. This isn’t a greatness that gets awards or popularity. It is a spiritual greatness that truly changes the worlds and sets out ripples to where they end we will never know.

Normally when we speak of spiritual greatness we think of spiritual powerhouses like Sts. Peter and Paul, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Pio, St. John Vianney, Bl. Mother Teresa, St. Maximillian Kolbe, St. John Paul II. But, it can sometimes be easy to forget those who did not lead lives of  miracles, and large achievements. I actually tried to bring some attention to those who lead, from the outside looking in, rather normal everyday lives in our summer session for our high schoolers. The theme is “The Time to Be AWESOME is Now”. The whole idea behind it is that we shouldn’t wait to grow in holiness. We aren’t guaranteed the next second of our lives. The time is now! These saints did not do great miraculous spiritual feats,  but  due to their lives of heroic virtue, we know they are now in heaven. We talked about people like St. Maria Goretti, Bl.Bartolo Longo, St. Gianna Berreta Molla, and Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati. 

St. Maria Goretti

St. Gianna Berreta Molla

Bl. Bartolo Longo

 By the world’s standards these people did not achieve greatness. But in God’s eyes we know they did not live mediocre lives. They were not lukewarm to be vomited out. They lived lives of heroic virtue, otherworldly lives, lives of vertical wildness. They were able to achieve greatness.What if we made the choice to live lives abundantly? What if we chose to apply the 10,000 hour rule to our spiritual lives? What if we chose to achieve greatness?