White Space, Black Dot

Let's Try This Again...

2011-12-26T10:20:00.001-08:00

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?

2011-02-20T00:47:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-04T23:09:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-15T21:10:00.000-08:00

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

Looooong Time No See, Eh?

2011-01-14T19:38:00.000-08:00

So. No, I didn't die of a mysterious illness. I just took a very, very long break. Over a year.

Y'all can stop rolling your eyes now. I mean it. Knock it off. I'm a hacker-in-training, I can see your very soul through your computer monitor.

...

Silliness aside, I've taken up writing again. I've made it a New Years Resolution to write in this blog at least once a week, despite the fact that maybe two people read it. (Show of hands, anyone?)

So, here I am. Writing. Late at night, after everyone else goes to bed.

I like this time of night. It's very relaxing to be able to sit down at my computer, knowing that I'll be only interrupted by emergencies...or, since I'm visiting my family at the moment, small children sleepwalking. Some combination of the two being possible, but unlikely.

I guess that's why I decided to write now, of all times. I'm able to clear my thoughts, to put aside the worries and cares of the day, and just relax. I can surf the web, looking for something to catch my fancy. I can exert my creative side and play around with my graphic design software. I have the freedom to be anyone, anything I want to be...

...and yet, I choose to be myself, in some base form.

It's odd, really. We often act differently around different groups of people. We have a whole selection of masks, whether we realize it or not, even if the only purpose of a particular mask is to filter out language and behavior that is inappropriate for a given situation.

I act far differently with my family than I do at school. I have no friends here, so I just stay with my family. Here, I bear the title of Responsible Babysitter/Nanny. I am my mother's substitute, and am often sent where she can't (or doesn't want to) go. I am That Kid's Big Sister to most of my little sisters' friends, which means I'm either a demoness incarnate or an angelic being (usually depending on the amount of 'coolness' I exhibit at a given time, and how they themselves view their older siblings). I am quiet, but generally friendly; I partake in discussion, but play my cards close to my chest. I give nothing away if I can help it, knowing that any weakness will me exploited.

At school, I feel more like my 'true' self...and yet, not. I am easygoing, which sometimes makes me irresponsible. Nothing really bothers me, which isn't always a good thing. I have friends, which is a new experience for me; it's frightening and exciting at the same time.

You don't need to wear a mask when you're in the same environment all the time. Growing up, I was homeschooled. I was always at home. I got involved with a homeschool group, but I only did drama twice a year and took a few co-op classes. The other kids had grown up together; I was an outsider. I wasn't even a brilliant conversationalist; I kept to myself, not really caring if anyone else talked to me or not, and thus few did. My anonymity was not so much a mask as a way of life.

Things are different now. I care if people talk to me. I care if I have Facebook notifications or texts (two things more things to learn as I navigate college), if people greet me as they pass. I know people's names (even if I usually forget them, repeatedly, early on in our acquaintanceship), and they know mine. I have people I can talk to about stuff I couldn't share with anyone for most of my life.

So, I guess the point of this is that I'm lonely here. I love my family, and I love my friends...but in many ways my friends are more family than my actual family. I love my little sisters, it's true, but certain situations are very difficult to deal with. If it weren't for my little sisters, I wouldn't come back at all; but they need me, and the only way they can contact me is if I'm sitting here, on my computer, 'not doing anything productive.'

At the same time, being with them means I'm away from my friends...friends who, in all likelihood, don't completely understand just how much it means for me to actually have friends in the first place. They've been making friends all their lives. They may even be hanging out with their 'home' friends right now. They don't understand how much their presence means to me, how much I would do and sacrifice for them...I'm just another face, I suppose.

Please, guys, if you're reading this, don't take offense. I say this in an attempt at brutal self-examination. I'm not special, and I don't think I am. It bothers me, sure, that I probably won't see most of you after college. Don't think I don't get depressed when I face the reality that most of you will forget about me entirely within the next five to seven years.

I just want you all to know that I don't want to forget a single one of you. You've taught me so much...about life, about myself, and about putting on and taking off masks. I don't care if you forget me; I may forget you as well, but I won't stop praying for you.

Now go away and leave my to my sappy manga.

God bless,
PHC

In Sickness and in Health

2009-11-10T09:45:00.000-08:00

After nearly a full week of illness, I have discovered the secret behind the marriage vows, particularly the part about, "For better or for worse, in sickness and in health..."

You see, some of us are hit by illness in such a way that makes us incompatible with the rest of humanity. Not only is this an incurable (presumably genetic) disorder, but medication that relieves the symptoms of the original illness seems only to aggravate the effects of this strange anomaly, resulting in very cranky people.

Sad, but 'tis true.

Anyhow, after living on my bed for the past several days, only going to necessary classes and far fewer than necessary meals, I realized that the time to register for next semester's classes has arrived. The most popular class on the list? Christian Marriage.

Add to that the fact that a friend has asked for prayer for her now-divorced parents (who are apparently going to court over her tuition), and I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about marriage and matrimonial harmony.

Granted, for someone in my position, it seems wonderful. Being so close to someone that you share everything just seems like a dream. But really...have you seen the way many married couples behave nowadays? It's nothing short of scandalous. (Married readers, please don't take offence. This is a gross generalization.)

From times immemorial, marriage has stood as an earthly representation of the supreme bond between creation and it's Creator - and between the God of the universe and the human soul. It's amazingly comforting to curl up in your covers and imagine God giving you a hug, not out of any of the emotions and desires that twist humanity but out of pure unselfish love. That's the kind of love I want to give.

If I manage to drag myself out of bed.

God bless,
PHC

Pride in the Fall

2009-10-29T12:50:00.000-07:00

Speaking on the phone with my most esteemed mother is always an interesting experience.

Perhaps some of you recall an incident at the end of last semester involving my summer employment. This is, sadly, my mother's attitude towards many things in life.

I love her, God bless her, but we simply don't see eye-to-eye on a good many things.

On top of that, I have a violent temper and she has always been bound and determined to say what she wants to say (EVERYTHING she want to say) come hell or high water. To date, few things have been able to stop her once her ranting starts: the list includes car crashes, broken bones, and national disasters. It does not include my aforementioned temper.

I am convinced that getting angry is a bit like getting drunk: you can't think straight and everyone reacts a little differently. (Not that I've ever gotten drunk; I got my information entirely from second-hand sources.) Some people will yell and scream when they get angry, others will feel the need to punch/hit/demolish something, and still others will cry hysterically. I have a quiet anger: when I get angry, you may not know it right away. I might even keep smiling. However, keep talking and I will probably blow up in your face.

Funny thing is, I generally calm down very quickly. Staying angry just isn't worth the effort.

In short, I believe our problems come down to pride: my mom's too proud to listen to and respect what I have to say, and that rubs my own pride the wrong way. Like two pieces of flint, we create sparks that burn us both.

It's quite the vicious cycle.

However, having calmed down, I began to wonder what else in the world is caused by pride. A few things that come to mind: the rebellion of society against organized religion, the numerous movies and songs that exalt the individual above others and even society, and the advocacy of certain politicians for government funding of infanticide. All are caused by pride...and all are destructive to both those participating in the act and the people around them.

Sometimes, we have so much pride that we will take apparent and obvious personal losses rather than damage our precious egos. People have been known to give up their lives rather than bow to the will of another. I personally find this pride in falling fascinating...in a disturbing and slightly morbid sense. After all, pride is rather intangible: what would make someone give up so much for something so vague? It's not even an ideal or a moral issue.

Actually, for Christians, it is a moral issue: our morals have issues with our pride. Quite often the duke it out inside our heads, battling for control. Thank God we have free will (literally), because if we reacted purely instinctually we would never get anything done.

To relate this back to my circumstance, it's quite sad that my mother and I have such problems. It really is. I would love to be able to have a nice* conversation with my mother. At this point, though, all we can do is work on our own personal problems and dream of the day when one or both of us will overcome our pride.

Like mother, like daughter, I guess.

God bless,
PHC

*Nice (adj.): lacking lectures, 30-minute monologues, screaming, yelling, and other unpleasant sub-forms of communication.

Rainbows

2009-10-27T20:19:00.000-07:00

Ah! So much has happened! It was surprising to hear from people in my life that my blog has been read - usually in conjunction with the notorious act of Facebook stalking.

To all of you, and you know who you are, thanks for being my inspiration.

Many changes have happened in my life of late. I completed my internship in New York City, went on a crazy road trip from New York back home with all five of my younger sisters, and started back to school for my sophomore year. I successfully endured the first half of classes (time flies!), several meetings about the Study Abroad program I'll be participating in next semester, and somehow managed to maintain some semblance of a semi-functional social life.

I feel so accomplished.

In addition to all of this, I joined a household here on campus. As a brief overview for the un-initiated: households at Franciscan University are groups of three or more same-sex students who come together to grow in body, mind, and spirit together. They are, to put it simply, a very Christianized replacement for households, with more emphasis on prayer and the spiritual life than on partying and pulling pranks.

The particular household to which I have declared intent to join is called "Illuminata Pace," which translates "Illuminating Peace." They are an amazingly spectacular, if small, group of women who devote themselves to the four charisms of humility, prayerfulness, peace, and joy, following the example of St. Francis and St. Clare of Assisi. Although different, they - and my fellow 'intents,' who are discerning joining the household - all fit together like pieces of a puzzle, our personalities complementing each other like the colors of the rainbow.

Coincidentally, though there is no such thing as coincidence, one of the trademarks of Illuminata Pace is their identification with an Italian peace movement simply called "Pace." To show their good intentions, this movement invented a rainbow flag with the word "PACE" on it in white. Somewhat unfortunately, the gay and lesbian pride movement has adopted a similar flag to show their...diversity. Thus, our lovely Pace flag that we display with some pride in our common room (the room set aside for our household to decorate and meet in) is often mistaken for a declaration of a very different kind of pride.

As you can clearly see below, the differences are striking.

On the top, we have the Pace Peace flag of 1961. Below it is the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) Pride flag of 1978.

Just looking at the dates, it's clear we weren't the copycats here.

It is also interesting to note the contrast between "peace" and "pride." Christ tells His apostles numerous times, "Peace be with you." Peace is the defining characteristic of Illuminata Pace. On the other hand, pride - it has been posited - is the root and source of all sin. It was pride, some say, that led Adam and Eve to fall from their original state of grace in the Garden of Eden. Pride led the Sanhedrin of old to jealously hunt down and murder the savior of the world.

Pride has led to a culture of selfishness, materialism, and death in our world today.

How can two rainbows, both ascetically beautiful, mean two so very different things? How can one evoke feelings of hope and loyalty in me, and the other a feeling of disgust and revulsion?

Only God knows.

God bless,
PHC

P.S. I wonder if God took this into consideration when he made the first rainbow. Think about it.

Killing a Killer

2009-06-01T12:10:00.000-07:00

The death of George Tiller, the infamous late-term abortionist, has been broadcast across the nation (and likely beyond) and caused quite a stir in both pro-life and pro-choice groups. Leaders of both parties have been unanimous in condemning the actions of the killer, but it does bring up a very controversial issue: just when can one take the life of another? Can killing someone known to kill others be justified?

Obviously (to me, at least), the answer is a resounding no. We in the pro-life movement believe in the sanctity of all life, from conception to natural death, no matter what a person has done. That does not excuse the actions of Dr. Tiller, nor does it erase the fact that he has the blood of tens of thousands of innocent children on his hands, many of whom he killed for the mere convenience of the mother. (Just as a side note: the state's investigation into his practice of performing illegal abortions has not been completed at this time.) Those are sins he will have to answer for; they do not condone the actions of his murderer.

As this story unfolds, please keep Mr. Tiller and his family in your prayers. Please also pray for the pro-life movement as we attempt to find compassionate ways of coping with this tragedy while maintaining our strict condemnation of all violations of the sanctity of life.

God bless,
PHC

I Live in Christ and He in Me

2009-05-23T05:40:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have ended my lengthy hiatus from blogging. To be fair, I have been blogging; over the course of the past two and a half weeks, I have made three contributions to the American Center for Pro-Life Action Blog. I have been granted a summer internship with EMC (Expectant Mothers' Care) Pregnancy Centers, handing out pamphlets outside abortion clinics and counseling young mothers who want abortions.

It's an exhausting job physically and mentally, but the lives of the children we save make it worth any pain we suffer.

I have been privileged with the cases of three young women, who shall remain here nameless. One lives with her father, who will almost certainly throw her out when he learns of her pregnancy. She's from Africa, studying here on a green card; she had few friends here in the states...until she met us. Now she has a whole host of people who are working to get her prenatal care, housing, clothing, diapers, baby food...the works.

Another woman thought her live-in boyfriend wanted to keep her unborn baby, but she herself was uncertain about it when she came to us for help. Then an ultrasound at our clinic revealed that she was carrying twins. A twin herself - though her brother died at birth - she realized that she just couldn't take the lives of her babies. A double stroller had just recently been given to us by a generous donor, and we passed it on to her.

The final mother is a homeless high-school dropout, living with a friend. Being post-abortive, she wanted desperately to keep her child...but didn't know how she would be able to afford it. We are setting her up with a pregnant women's shelter and a maternal mentorship program, and will sign her up for prenatal care once her baby is old enough.

These women touched my lives, as I hope I touched theirs. God was very obviously at work in all three situations, guiding these women in their efforts to do what was best for themselves and all around them. All three chose life, giving their children the greatest gift possible. Please pray for them as they struggle through the challenges of raising these beautiful children.

Interestingly enough, all four babies are due in December. Our sonogram technician calls them the "little twinkles."

God bless,
PHC

More Than a King

2009-04-11T10:48:00.000-07:00

Holy Week is one of the best times of the year, in my opinion. Not only does it fall right at the beginning of spring (or towards the end of winter, depending on your climate zone), but it also celebrates some of the greatest Christian mysteries: redemption, forgiveness, and life after death.

One of my favorite books of all time is The Robe by Lloyd Douglas. One part that particularly stands out to me is when Demetrius, a Corinthian slave to a Roman Tribune, just happens to be caught up in the crowd that greets Jesus on Palm Sunday. It's touching how Douglas describes Jesus as weary, saddened, and almost heartbroken by the cheering crowd - perhaps, from a Christian perspective, we can imagine him foreseeing a very different mob, one that screams "Crucify him!" instead of "Hosanna!"

Afterwards, Demetrius is questioned by a fellow slave. When asked to describe Jesus, he has no words. The other slave then asks if Jesus is the king the Jews claim He is, Demetrius replies "No...but - he is something more important than a king."

It's very telling, I think. So often we try to reduce Jesus to labels - "Messiah," "Prophet," "King" - all the while missing the point of His mission. He holds all those titles, but those titles do not define Him; nor is He limited by them. He is fully human, but He is also fully God - the infinite God of the universe who created all things and holds them in existence.

That same God consented to die the most terrible death invented to date, then let His body be thrown in an empty cave for three days. Then, He came back to life and began translocating all over the place in an awesome show of power...and, I personally believe, a bit of Divine Humor. After all, He's the God of All Creation...and He winds up on a seashore cooking fish? That's not a bad thing, don't get me wrong, but I think it shows that God has a sense of humor.

On that note: I wonder what kind of kid Jesus was. Something to ask Mary when we get to Heaven.

God bless,
PHC

Sunshine and Rain

2009-04-07T19:36:00.000-07:00

Some days are so ridiculously happy that you feel like jumping up and down screaming for joy at the top of your lungs. Other days are so terrible that you want to want to just punch something before breaking down crying.

Today was, quite ironically, both for me.

I've been looking for a summer internship for quite some time. While my parents have been largely supportive of my search, my mother has never failed to point out the unlikelihood of a freshman getting an internship and the 'benefits' of coming home and working for the summer...every single time I brought the subject up.

Today, I was offered a wonderful Students for Life internship in New York City, pending parental approval. When the recruiter asked if my parents would approve, I told him that my father would be skeptical but eventually come around, while my mother would likely be a challenge.

I take great pride in knowing my parents so well.

My father's opposition was rooted in the fact that the house I'll be staying in is in the Bronx. I think I can handle myself for two reasons: first, I will be staying with at least 10-15 people at any given time; and second, I have taken Tae Kwon Do. Knife evasion techniques always came easily to me. In all seriousness, though, I don't think the program directors would put us in immediate danger of losing our lives.

My mother, on the other hand, came up with (what she believes to be) a far more convincing argument. Basically, she started off by reminding me that the financial situation in America is terrible at the present. Then she went over my bank account status, reminding me at least three times that my current savings will only cover through sophomore year. She also added in the fact that I hope to study abroad in spring of 2010, and my current finances don't take that into account. Finally, she wrapped it up with the fact that I could come home and work as a clerk at a local grocery store with a side job of waitressing and earn more money than the stipend I would get from the internship program.

Hm. Help save the lives of countless innocent children in danger of horrific deaths...or work at home stockpiling cash.

Somehow, there doesn't seem to be much of a choice.

My dear mother, God bless her, basically refused (though not in so many words) to support my efforts to take this internship. If I go through with this, I will likely hear about my "wasted summer" during every telephone conversation and every family gathering for years to come.

I guess this is what modern martyrdom looks like.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword. For I have come to set a man 'against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daugher-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one's enemies will be those of his household.'
Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daugher more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."
~Matthew 10:34-39 NAB

God bless,
PHC

It's a Small World

2009-03-29T13:38:00.001-07:00

It's interesting the people you meet. Today I was a wee bit later than I would've liked getting to Mass, so I took a seat in a row near the back. A young man was sitting on the other end of the row. Apparently guys are afraid of girls at this school, because several guys came and sat in our row, making a point to go around and sit at the other side of the pew. The YM (young man) who started out on the other end of the pew wound up sitting right next to me.

Cut to brunch after Mass. As I'm sitting in the Caf with several friends, a guy walks up and asks if he can sit with us. It was - you got it - YM. Creepy? Perhaps. He's a perfect gentleman, though; another friend was walking past in high heels, slipped, and spilled copious amounts of coffee all over the floor, and YM cleaned up the whole mess while she tried to get her bearings.

And yes, I do know YM's real name. No, I'm not going to post it on cyberspace. But he's a great guy, nonetheless.

I also just got involved in the wonderful world of Twitter. (I'm behind the times, I know...I just didn't have a reason to before.) Hopefully, this will help me with an internship for the summer. My neighbor down the street back home swears by Twitter, claiming that it's the best thing that ever happened to the internet since Google. I guess I haven't been involved long enough to see what all the hype is about. And I've become (relatively) accustomed to Facebook.

Plus, in case you couldn't tell, I'm not all too big on updating things regularly. I have accumulated about ten followers, so I guess I'm off to a good start. I have some snazzy background artwork in the works, just in case I become a sudden hit or something.

This reminds me of a play FUS is putting on right now called "The Water Engine." It's about a man who creates an engine that runs on water as its only fuel (hence the title). However, he runs into problems when he goes to patent the miraculous machine. It's a very interesting story, with a good lesson: "All people are connected." It's something to remember, even in a secular mindset.

God bless,
PHC

Spring Break Madness

2009-03-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

Spring Break. The very name brings tears of joy to Academia as a whole. Both teachers and students look forward to it as the midway-point of Spring Semester. It's a time of relaxation, fun, and perhaps some leisurely study if one feels so inclined.

Of course, that is all very theoretical...especially when one is attending a religious school. Roughly a quarter of the student population* left campus for the week to go on one of the various student-organized mission trips. They are an inspiration to us all.

I, on the other hand, spent Spring Break watching my numerous younger siblings. Mission trips vs. babysitting...

In my own defense, I work for free. Perhaps that heightens the moral level of my break slightly.

In the world of politics, things seem to be heating up...again. We're still in the 30-Day Comment Period for the Conscience Protection Clause. (That's the legislation passed under President Bush that allows medical professionals - doctors, nurses, and others - to refuse to perform or counsel abortions based on morals.) After this 30-day period is up at the end of the week, the Obama administration will rescind this rule, forcing healthcare providers to advocate abortion regardless of personal beliefs. The story is available in the Chicago Tribune here.

Our president has also, sadly, angered many people with his comments on the Special Olympics. Fox news reports here, in a light-hearted article featuring tips from a real Special Olympics bowler whose score (and dare I say manners?) far surpasses the president's. I find it ironic that any person from a traditionally oppressed population finds it funny to downplay another group of misunderstood individuals, even in jest. Additionally, I believe that it is grossly inappropriate for the leader of a country to take advantage of some of the most vulnerable citizens of that country in such a manner.

The cause of people with mental disabilities is right up there with the cause of elderly people and the cause of unborn children. It's the Civil Rights movement of our era. These people are seen as worthless and - in many cases - subhuman; much as the African-American people were viewed in the early days of our country. If President Obama wants to show the world that America has truly moved beyond social prejudice, he will embrace the 'slaves' of the modern day.

Unfortunately, I don't see that happening any time soon. All we can do is pray.

God bless,
PHC

*Possible exaggeration. Only possible.

Midterms and Mondays...

2009-03-06T12:14:00.000-08:00

...are the bane of my existence. The latter, sadly, cannot be avoided (as it comes around every seven days, according to the calendar); but midterms, on the other hand, are something no free-thinking person can be subjected to.

Just don't go to college. Piece of cake.

As I am going to college (and like it, thank you very much), I am forced to endure the world of headache and writer's cramp known as midterms. Luckily, it's over. I have a whole weekend to ponder the meaning of life...and write papers, and catch up on Calculus II homework, and read...

*Ahem* So...how 'bout that stimulus plan? Interestingly enough, the market has continued to go down (and at a greater rate than before) after the stimulus bill passed. The economy is a funny thing...it just won't cooperate with the Democrat-run regime. You'd think, if they can get an entire nation to overlook hundreds of years of historical proof that government spending doesn't help the economy, they'd be able to rig SOMETHING up.

Ah...common sense. What is this world coming to.

God bless,
PHC

Busy, Busy, Busy...

2009-02-16T12:59:00.000-08:00

Most of us attempting to enter the workforce - particularly those of us who hope to procure upper-level jobs - have one thing in common: money. Or, rather, lack of it. There is just not enough money to give everyone in America a higher-level education...and those of us who are going to small schools with hopes of a better quality of education are even more hard-pressed than your average student.

Forgive me. After sending in 36 applications for internships and getting nothing significant by way of a reply, I'm just a little out of it. Add to that the flu bug that's been going around campus, and you've got one unhappy camper.

Anyways. My question to cyberspace today is this: is it ethical to be spending millions of dollars "bailing out" the adult entertainment industry when the future leaders of America's economy struggle to make ends meet?

Pres. Obama's so-called 'bailout' plan is also getting on my nerves, in case you can't tell. It's so ridiculously stupid: anyone who paid any attention in Economics Class should be able to see that government spending does more harm than good in a Free Market economy, especially when the government is already in the hole hundreds of billions of dollars.

Please excuse my lack of anger management. It's probably a good thing my family's sending me to see a psychiatrist over Spring Break.

Ah...the joys of Monday. Breathe the Ohio Valley air and thank God for the joys of life.

Then hack and choke on the smell.

God bless,
PHC

Happy Monday! (...And a Human Rights plug...)

2009-02-02T13:36:00.001-08:00

Ah...the joys of Monday. What better reason do we need to celebrate?

...

In all seriousness, it's a beautiful thing to be able to "live in the moment." You know, the present is called a present because it's a gift...don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today...that sort of thing.

Just thinking about it, I'm honestly glad to be alive. I've had my share of close calls - the one that comes to mind first is the time I was hit by a car while riding my bicycle a few years ago (the driver was a little old lady on her way home from Mass, who was distracted and ran the stop sign) - and I'm happy to say that I'm still alive and in once piece.

But what about all those who aren't? Aborted babies come to mind, but there are plenty of other people who struggle against the odds to survive. Not just in the Middle East, either; here on our own continent, many Latin American countries aren't capable of supporting their populations.

Over the weekend, Franciscan University hosted a talk by a young woman from Chile who was actually raised a U.S. citizen in Colorado. Being of Hispanic descent and now part of a natively Hispanic community, she told us about the suffering of the people down in Latin America. It was sad, really, hearing her describe their living conditions.

Well, the point of her speach was that we should welcome illegal immigrants. That...that rubbed me the wrong way. Now, I'm not against immigration by any strech of the imagination; I simply believe that ILLEGAL immigrants should not have the same rights in this country as those of us who work and pay taxes to support said country. If they honestly want to work, pay taxes, and support the community, great. Please learn Engligh, apply for citizenship, and join the American melting pot. That's what our ancestors did. But don't just sit around on welfare, expecting the American government to pay for you.

I know that many (if not most) immigrants don't think this way. Most are probably trying to support their families, either here or abroad. I whole-heartedly support helping these people join our great nation.

All right, I'm done. No offence to immigrants everywhere. I love you guys. I wish the best for you, as brothers and sisters in Christ. Just...please don't come here expecting us to change and bend over backwards for you. In return, I'll respect your customs, conditions, and laws when I visit your wonderful countries.

God bless,
PHC

In Moments of Silence

2009-01-23T09:11:00.000-08:00

Our world is inundated with noise. Cell phones, radios, and MP3 players blast sound into our poor eardrums. Computers and televisions bombard us with information - useful or otherwise.

Scientific studies have shown that the average American feels uncomfortable after twelve seconds of silence. Why?

I would like to propose that we are afraid of silence.

The saying "ignorance is bliss" holds true in many ways, as I'm sure everyone can understand from personal experience. Sometimes the truth hurts. Life isn't always pretty, but in America we tend to hide it behind a screen of noise.

Silence is a precious thing. When we are silent - completely silent, not trying to distract ourselves - we tend to think. When we think rationally, we come to realizations about our world that can radically change our lives.

Take abortion, for instance. Most abortion advocates support this "procedure" with a blind faith, hiding behind catchy slogans like "Reproductive freedom," "Education and equality," and "Protect women's health." (Note: all of the above were taken directly from the website of Planned Parenthood Federation of America, Inc.)

A few years back, some rather intelligent people got the idea into their heads to film an abortion "from the victim's point of view." Using ultrasound, they actually recorded the an 11-week unborn child trying desperately to avoid the end of the suction machine that eventually claims its life. At one point in the video, as the child is being literally dismembered, he opens his mouth in what the video describes as a "silent scream." It's chilling.

And yet, it happens every day. It's like the philosophical question, "If a tree falls in the middle of the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" These children are being massacred on a daily basis, and they can't make a sound.

Maybe if we spent a little more time in silence, we would be able to hear more. Maybe if we turn off our phones, MP3 players, and televisions, we would be able to appreciate the world around us a little better.

Maybe we would realize just how messed up we really are.

Now that's a scary thought.

God bless,
PHC

Marching for Rights

2009-01-21T12:56:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, I will be participating in a wonderful rally in Washington, D.C. that advocates children's rights. Unfortunately, there are some people in America today who believe that children's rights and women's rights conflict. How can that be?

Simple. Women nowadays believe in something called "reproductive freedom," something not found in any official United States document. Somehow, the Supreme Court found enough 'precedent' to pass Roe v. Wade...but that didn't give women any explicit right.

That's correct: women do not have the right to abortion. Actually, abortion - since it kills a scientifically living human being - violates our rights to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

But think of the mother, some argue. She can't be forced to carry an unwanted child to term.

Personally, I think the only thing that rivals the horrors of abortion is the fact that women willingly choose it and cling to it as a 'right.'

Femenists should be the most anti-abortion people in America. Isn't the whole purpose of the movement to distinguish and liberate ourselves from men? (No offense to any male readers.) Conceiving a child and giving birth are things that men simply can't do!

Therefore, I believe in saving all children from the pain and suffering of being dismembered alive in their mothers' wombs, and saving all mothers from the guilt of having willingly murdered their own children.

If anyone reading this post has had anything to do with abortion, please know that I'm not judging you: I'm criticizing the people who lied when they told you that the "fetus" was not a living, moving human baby. There is so much deception in the abortion industry nowadays that I can see how people fall for it. Rhetoric is a powerful tool, for good or evil.

All right, I'm off my soap box for the time being.

God bless,
PHC

Of Elephants, Gadflies, and the South Texas Mañana Syndrome

2009-01-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

Hello! Hello to you all!

Today is both a very sad day and a very happy day.

Why, do you ask?

Today is a sad day because I am a hard-core traditionalist conservative orthodox Roman Catholic, and we just swore in the most radically pro-abortion president in the history of these United States.

Today is a happy day because I finally got enough motivation to start my blog.

I consider myself an intellectual person (relatively speaking), and so I will give my pseudo-professional analysis of America's current situation.

We're all gonna die.

No, not really...actually, once we stop killing off our unborn babies, old people, and depressed people who are 'tired of life' and start working on getting ourselves out of the moral and economical depression we've willingly walked into, we just might be all right after all.

That's what makes being Catholic (and Christian, for that matter) so wonderful! We are the "gadflies" of society, like Socrates says in Plato's Apology. It is our duty to wake up the sleeping steed of society today with a bite to the (proverbial) flanks. It's not going to be comfortable or pleasant for anyone involved, and we may get ourselves swatted a few (thousand) times. However, better for the noble horse to have a rude awakening than to suffocate in the burning stable.

People nowadays subscribe to what folks down in South Texas commonly call the "mañana syndrome." Mañana has two meanings in Spanish: morning and tomorrow. The theory behind the saying is that we are always putting things off for 'mañana' (tomorrow) when we should be going out and getting something done.

I'm not one to talk. I'm currently stalling Monday's Calc II homework.

However, what differentiates a wise person from an idiot (and I mean that in the kindest possible way) is that the wise person listens for and acts upon good advice.

I think my clock is giving me such advice by kindly informing me that it's probably too late for me to continue typing.

May God bless you all,
PHC