Let's Try This Again...

Hmm. So. This past year has been a good one. I've had a lot going on, including (but certainly not limited to) the presentation of my Senior Thesis. Loads of fun!

I know no one reads this (thanks, Google Stats!) but in the off-chance someone comes across this, I want to lay out what I'm planning on doing this year.

I'm tentatively making an early New Year's commitment to post every Friday. (Gulp!) I'm working on the logistics of reminding myself to post and all, but I think it will be neat. I tend to be far too personal for a blogger - finding something to talk about won't be a problem - but it might be fun.

In unrelated news, Merry Christmas, and have a Happy New Year!

God bless,

PHC

P.S. If anyone out there has an entry-level programming position that they need to fill, I'll be available in May.

Falling in Love...Or Not?

I caught the YouTube bug today.

There's so much to see: from Tim Hawkins to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (and a few Horribly funny fan-made spin-offs) to French animation student films. It's amazing to think that it all boils down to numbers and wires, in the end. (Networking and Telecommunications for the win!)

In the process of surfing the 'net, I got a song stuck in my head. Now, I don't often take to a Praise and Worship song particularly strongly, but "More Like Falling In Love" by Jason Gray is one of those songs with lines that stuck with me.

In the process of trying to deduce the name of the aforementioned song from the parts of the chorus that I remembered, I came across an interesting blog post. Here's an excerpt:

Falling in love with Jesus has nothing to do with our salvation nor its fruits (the change Gray speaks of). How is this different from a Muslim saying they fell in love with Mohammed? Or a Buddhist proclaiming that falling in love with the Buddha brought about the change in his/her life. As Chris Rosebrough has said, what about a burrito? Why couldn’t a burrito produce this life change?

Folks we are not part of the gospel! My ability/inability to fall in love with Christ has nothing to do with my salvation.

This is, quite simply, tragic. "We are not part of the gospel"? "My ability/inability to fall in love with Christ has nothing to do with my salvation"? Is this viewpoint - apparently shared by numerous others, if the book touted on the site is any indication - responsible for the cold hearts of Christians everywhere?

Don't get me wrong: I know many Christians - Catholic and otherwise - who are deeply in love with Christ. I am not so naive as to assume that this wayward blogger represents the generic Protestant viewpoint. Still, the fact that people apparently see faith in Christ this way is heartbreaking.

Love is everything. Jesus Himself tells us:

"He who does not love does not know God, for God is love."
(1 John 4:8, RSV)

Mind, this is Scripture. This isn't "PHC Makes Up Crazy Quotes To Make A Point." Therefore, my fellow blogger has no business claiming that the song's references to falling in love with Jesus is not in line with Scripture.

I'm not defending Jason Gray...or his song. Actually, I have a few problems with the little ballad myself. The second verse claims that

...All religion ever made of me
Was just a sinner with a stone tied to my feet...

Huh. So the religion that has, as its basic tenant, to "Love the Lord your God with your whole heart, your whole soul, your whole mind, and your whole strength" is a stone tied to your feet? That's an unusual analogy. Religion doesn't make you a sinner: your choices make you a sinner. Religion just tells you where you went wrong so you can do better next time, instead of making the same mistakes over and over again.

Love is important. It's the basis of the Christian life...of human life, really. Theologists theorize that love is, literally, what makes the world go 'round: if God stopped constantly loving us, we would simply cease to exist. After all, God made us and holds us in existence; and we already established that God is love. What can exist in complete absence of God? What can exist without love?

Nothing, apparently.

I find it highly ironic that in my last post I agonized over the fact that God often seems distant. I think this is my answer. Love is everywhere, whether we see it or not...whether we feel it or not. The sun doesn't stop shining just because our view of it is obscured by clouds. One could say it's a problem on our end; the sun had nothing to do with it. In the same way, 'cloudy days' on which we can't find it within us to bask in God's love for us don't negate the fact that His love is always there.

When I think about myself in relation to God, I imagine myself as a small child. On good days, I'm about waist-high: just the right height for God to reach down and pat me on the head. On bad days, I'm about three inches high and I curl up in the palm of His hand. Either way, it helps me to realize two things:

There is a God, and second, I'm not him.
(Fr. Cavanaugh in Rudy)

In other words,

God is bigger than the boogie man!
He's bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on TV.
Oh! God is bigger than the boogie man,
And He's watchin' out for you and me!
(Jr. Asparagus and Bob the Tomato in Veggie Tales: Where's God When I'm S-s-scared?)

God is love, and He isn't going anywhere. He has promised to love us eternally, whether we are receptive to that love or not. And I should stop waxing philosophical and backing it with obscure quotes and go to bed already.


Good night and God bless,

PHC

Company

Well, I hope you all had a lovely St. Valentine's Day. (Or a reasonably comfortable Singles' Awareness Day, whichever you happen to be celebrating.) I, for one, spent SAD in a blurry haze, content to curl up on my bed for the duration. No, I wasn't pining for some lost love...merely lost health. On that note, I'm feeling rather better. Thanks for asking.

Once I reemerged from my lair, I discovered that my family had sent me a box. It wasn't much - just a little bag of the chocolates my mom adores, a small homemade gift from my baby sister, and some mail - but it's the thought that counts. And, quite honestly, those thoughts were rather lonely.

It's odd; after all, I'm surrounded by people, which is more than I can say for my developing years. Before college I lived, worked, and studied at home. Here in college, I have the interesting (and often frightening) opportunity to get out and meet people my own age. I often feel I'm not up to the challenge - everyone else seems to have, literally, years of experience on me - but I manage.

The truly unusual thing is that I don't remember being lonely growing up. I had my books, my computer, and my little sisters, and that was all the company I needed. (And quite honestly, the little sisters were often superfluous. Any older sibling know what I mean.) Outside interference usually meant that something got mucked up, since habitually failed to prepare for the fact that, in my controlled and ordered world, other people were the only thing I couldn't either control or avoid. In short, I didn't regret the fact that I had no friends growing up; rather, I relished it.

Now, however, I have found that having friends - while still prone to throw my delicately balanced schedule completely off it's hinges - is actually quite pleasant. Having only oneself for company leads to a slow decay of creativity and imagination. Being around other people leads to bouncing ideas off of them, either explicitly or implicitly. We converse with one another, learn different viewpoints and ideas, and incorporate them into our own, leading to both growth and virtue. And yet...I have noticed myself being lonely more now than I ever was as a child.

Analyzing this, I have reached the conclusion that it is simply human selfishness. Science has shown that people are happier when they have fewer choices. More choices lead to more indecision, which leads to regret after the final decision is made. I didn't have a choice in my solitude as a child; I couldn't very well run away from home in search of companionship. However, now that I see what I missed - and, in many ways, what I am still missing - I want it badly. It is human nature to covet, which is why God devotes the last two of the ten commandments to the subject. What we see as desirable we want for ourselves. What we have and enjoy in small quantities we crave more of. We are constantly in a rat race in search of fulfillment, and the cycle never ends.

Well, I suppose I should clarify. We cannot end the cycle on our own. However, at the risk of sounding cliche, I propose that God can end it for us. As a cradle Catholic, I have been taught literally from infancy that God loves us, that He watches over us, that He is always with us...and soon and so forth. However, the image of an invisible God - no matter how omnipotent - is sometimes a cold comfort for the tactile person. The phrase, "Blessed are those who have not seen and believe," certainly comes to mind; but that still takes a heroic leap of faith.

At an unusual meeting last night (involving strawberries, ice cream, and a laughing nun), I heard about an interesting concept. It is called the Examen Prayer, and was apparently propagated by St. Ignatius of Loyola. It has five steps, all centered around cultivating an awareness of Christ in our lives. It is essentially a spiritual inventory, useful for both those who know who they are and where they stand, and for those who - like me - tend to be more wayward and lost than particularly focused. I, for one, am thinking of giving it a try.

This is a site I found interesting, though the method as described therein is somewhat different from the one the good laughing nun shared with us last night. I think it isn't so much the exact five steps that matter, but rather the end result. And please, don't get me started on the whole "do the ends justify the means" question; I've argued the point far more than I'd care to over the past few weeks.

Well, dear readers, that's my say. What about you? I'm sure none of you have ever felt lonely. (Sarcasm Alert!)

Any comments? Suggestions? Raucous laughter at my expense? Regardless, I say as always,


God bless,
PHC

The Distance

Being away from other people is an enlightening experience. Being part of a society means that we can 'hide' behind others; that is, we use the actions of those around us to excuse our own. It's peer pressure, executed in a subtle way. Who are you to judge me for my beliefs? After all, my roommate and my next door neighbor and the girl down the hall all believe in stranger things. You don't like the way I dress? I could say the same about you. You think I have an attitude problem? I'm asserting my individuality.

In the earlier days of Christianity, people would seclude themselves from the world and its distractions. In the wilderness, without other people and the cares of everyday life, they would seek God one-on-one. It must have been a frightening thing, at least at first. They had to face who they really were, without outside influence, and bring themselves with all their strengths and weaknesses to God.

It is always interesting, traveling between school and home. Things change in the blink of an eye, and I'm gone for months at a time. It's a bit disconcerting to return at the beginning of a semester and have to take stock of who's here, who's studying abroad, and who just...didn't come back.

The saying is true: you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. I miss my friends who aren't coming back, and those who are abroad this semester. I often find myself looking for familiar faces in familiar places, before realizing that I won't see those faces again for a long while (if ever).

This has certainly been a growing time in my life. Having been homeschooled (and largely isolated) all my life, I was largely unprepared for life outside my own home. Learning how to associate with other people was a challenge. I'm still terribly socially awkward...always saying the wrong things at the wrong times and making a fool of myself. I'm getting better, though; being away from home has taught me a lot about who I am...and who I'm not.

I've been a lot of things during my life: daughter, sister, neighbor, friend, counselor, authority figure, random person on a train, crazy American, world traveler, tourist, actress, musician, artist, audience member, student, teacher...the list goes on and on.

Who am I?

I'm me. Myself.

And tomorrow, I'll be someone a little different; because my choices and experiences are changing me, little by little, as I'm shaped into who I'm meant to be.


God bless,
PHC

The Long Way Home

Homes are interesting things. Some people live in one place their whole life, and can't imagine going anywhere else - be it a big city like New York or a tiny village in Africa that doesn't even have a name.

They say home is where the heart is, and to a certain extent that's true. Home is a place where we can relax, unwind, and air our dirty laundry (both literal and proverbial). We do things at home that we can do no where else, and thus we often act differently at home than out in the big, wide world.

Home brings feelings of contentment and security, of love and acceptance. Some blessed folk find this in the comfort of their family, regardless of nationality, race, or living situation. No matter where they are, they know that they have a place where they belong. On the other hand, so many - especially nowadays - find that their families do not provide the peace and stability so fundamental to human growth and development. Marital stress, affairs, divorces, obsessions, and preoccupations with the unimportant things in life (like money, fame, and 'the good job') chip away at what home and family were supposed to mean.

My own family appears relatively unaffected by this. I have two parents, one male and one female, married to each other. My dad works, my mom stays home with the kids (though she does take odd jobs on the side, mostly catering and tutoring). My little sisters have all experienced both homeschooling and public schooling, and each child is enrolled in what my parents deem is the best teaching method for her.

We never had a physical house as a home, as I was growing up. My dad was Navy; we moved into a new house (usually in a new city) every four years. My home was with my family, wherever we went.

And yet, I realized over the break that this is not my home. Things have changed...and some things that should have changed, matured, have not. My family has moved on in my absence; while my existence is affirmed in a quiet way in passing, I am no longer a part of their day-to-day life. Meanwhile, in school, I've been busy growing, learning, and trying to become a better person. Coming home for break thrusts me back into a situation where I am not strictly needed - my family's home life - with all sorts of brand spanking new ideas, opinions, and attitudes. That would be great, if my family knew what to do with them all. Here I am, a college student, back for a few weeks, and my parents automatically revert back to treating me like they did when I fist left home...at seventeen. I'm practically a different person now, one who desperately wants to be acknowledged as the adult I am. My parents insist otherwise.

I'm sure I'm just being over-melodramatic, the influence of my nightcap (a lovely mixture of sleep deprivation, a shot of depression, and panic, topped with a light touch of seasonal illness) finally taking its toll. Every college student goes through the same thing, to a certain degree.

That does not change the fact that my home is no longer at my family's residence. My home, the one place I feel accepted and wanted, is at school...and that comes with a price tag and a set time limit. Soon, I'll be forcibly ejected out into a world my education has only prepared me for in theory, where I will be expected to find a job and a house and a husband and a dog and...and...and be a Productive Member of Society (whatever that is...pthft).

It's amusing, at times, to read different legends about the afterlife, both modern and ancient. It's a universal human trait, it seems, to wonder about what lies after death.

Many, if not most, people picture the 'Christian Heaven' to be a place of white, puffy clouds mysteriously gifted with the power to support weight, upon which angels and humans sit clothed mystically in white robes and armed with harps. the Beatific Vision is reduced to an eternal battle of the bands, featuring angelic choirs as competitors. Nobody has told us what Heaven is like, in an earthly sense - what it looks, smells, feels, sounds, and tastes like (don't you DARE go lick one a' them pearly gates, y'hear?). In fact, I think there will be only one word to describe the feeling we get when we enter Heaven, the feeling of peace, security, acceptance and love.

Home.


God bless,
PHC