While I was safely tucked away at work in Ann Arbor, apparently a storm came through Troy — knocking out a lot of the power in the area, including mine. I just wanted to let you all know. It’s kinda nice, being able to still be connected, but I think I’m going to use this time not to play with my Crackberry, but to enjoy my candlelight dinner and read a good book, before taking my (hopefully not cold) shower and heading to bed. 🙂
Category Archives: Of Trials Opportunities and Gifts
WHAT IS IT??!?!?!?!
WHAT IS IT??!?!?!?!Originally uploaded by CadyLy
 This may say a lot about me. I am getting ready to go to bed, since I have to get up freakishly early in the morning (even for me, who normally sets the alarm for 4:30 am). I step out of my bedroom for a minute and happen to catch site of this…is it a bug? On the door.
Eyes get huge. What is the first thing I do?
Grab my camera.
That’s right, folks. I need a picture of this sucker. Because if it manages to kill me, at least someone will be able to download my picture and see the culprit.
 I come back with the camera — and he’s gone! Aaaahhh! Monster bug on the loose!! Oh no! Oh no! Panic sets in.
Then, I see him running across the floor. Aaaaahhhhh! He’s faster than a cockroach — and *those* suckers can move! Finally, he ends up on the wall in the living room. I swap the camera for the Lysol/Windex. He’s too fast to risk having him on the loose where he might decide to eat me.
I squirt him repeatedly. He seems to not move for a little while. Oh, good. This stuff can kill cockroaches, but sometimes it takes a bit of time. THEN…. HE STARTS MOVING! Like a bad horror flick, the monster has come back to life — and just when you were beginning to catch your breath.
He runs again and for a moment I have lost him. Oh, no. Oh, no. In my head, I am screaming. I pull out the couch, trying to see if he escaped under there.

 Finally, I catch up to him on the wall again. Thank You, Jesus, for Niki, who kept an eye on the Evil Bug and let me know where he was lurking. I am so glad that I bought new shoes recently, because I could grab my *old* shoe and crack the sucker with it. I may have dented the wall…but I wanted to make certain that the little beastie was dead.
So, now the bug guts are in the trash. I have been sanitized. And, the couch is back where it should be. And it’s time again for me to try and go to bed. I’m almost over my panic. Not quite, so don’t sneak up on me just yet.
Have a good night! And please pray for me that he doesn’t have any relatives!
What was that thing???
Gardening Issues
GPS
Yet another reason why I love my Crackberry.
After much debate, I decided to go to OLGC for morning Mass this morning. Why was it a debate? Well, after being laid off from my job in Ann Arbor on Saturdays, I didn’t really have a good justification to spend the $12 in gas to get there and back. Surely, there had to be a church closer to home that offered Saturday Mass. There are a few, but I have never been to them before, and I really am apprehensive about going to places like that for the first time, alone. A couple of friends had offered to go with me, but we had not made plans the night before, and I didn’t want to wake them up this early if they hadn’t already planned on going.
Plus, this is the last weekend for Fr. Steve, before he heads off to Rome for vacation and then his reassignment to seminary. So, if I went, there was a possibility that I would be able to say “Hi” and “Have fun” before he left.
After all this debate, if I was going to go to OLGC (where Mass begins at 7:15 am — I don’t know why the 15 minutes, it used to be 7:30 am….), I was running late for getting on the road to head over. As I jumped into the car, I saw that I only barely had enough gas to make it there, but I figured that there was a gas station on the way between church and where I usually go to for coffee after Mass, so I should be okay.
I get to church, and it is not Fr. Steve, but Fr. John, so I asked Fr. John to give my card to Fr. Steve when he saw him. I forgot about my gas situation until after Mass. My car was telling me that I had about 8 miles until empty. Granted, this is never *actually* 8 full miles, but I thought that the gas station was only 2 miles away.Â
Um, no.
What I had thought was a gas station was, in fact, a bank. And, now, my car said that I had about 5 miles until empty, and I realized that I had no clue where the nearest gas station was. Oh, boy. But! I pulled out my little Crackberry and opened the GPS program and had it search for “GAS” from my current location. It found one 1.9 miles away and took me there. I could start to smell the your-tank-is-empty-and-you-are-literally-running-on-fumes smell from the car. This gas station I would have never found on my own in a million years (well, maybe a million, but not before my tank ran dry).
So, Thank You, Lord, for providing for me and looking after me (even when I am a stupid sheep and should have filled up on the way to Mass). And thanks for using my Crackberry to do so. That just makes me smile. 🙂 And, additionally, I am glad that Fr. John has GPS, too, so that he will not be in a situation where he needs something or needs help and doesn’t know where to go. 🙂 Thank You again, Lord, for looking after my people. 🙂
Faith, Trust and Confession
I should have known something was up when I forgot to bring a book with me to read at Starbucks after Mass before going in to work. As a result, I had nothing to read while I sat there with my scone and mocha, so I cleaned out my purse. And I found this badly beaten up card with this prayer on it:
Prayer of Abandonment
 Father,
I abandon myself into your hands;
do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank you:
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
and in all your creatures –
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul:
I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,
for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into your hands without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for you are my Father.
Charles de Foucauld
And that made me think of when I got the prayer. It was when Fr. John told us that he was going to be assigned to Our Lady of Good Counsel, and was no longer going to be our pastor. As a catechumen who had only been going to church for about 2 months, I felt as if my heart had stopped and the earth had fallen away beneath my feet. My first thought was that I was going to leave, and forget about joining the Church. I didn’t want to set myself up to trust, to have yet another person taken away from me. I need security in my life! My very next thought was, “Wow! Am I stupid! This is about God — who is pretty much the only person you can rely upon to be faithful. How stupid to turn your back on Him, just because you are uncertain about the future.” So, I fought hard and held back my sobs as I listened to him pray this prayer and tried to understand what was going on.
Time passes. It’s now been a little over 11 months since Fr. John has left St. Anastasia for Our Lady of Good Counsel. And truly, this has been a great move, both for me and I would guess for him too, at least he seems happy. What has happened for me, was that his moving to Our Lady of Good Counsel has given me the opportunity to go to Mass daily. He started a 6:30 am Mass, and OLGC is only about 10 minutes down the expressway from my work. So, it works out perfectly. I also have a second place where I can go to confession, although that can get a little scary. 🙂 Daily Mass is such a blessing for me. Just ask my friends, I whine and complain like an Israelite in the desert when Mass is cancelled and I cannot receive the Eucharist that day.Â
This has also given us a new pastor at St. Anastasia, Fr. JJ. He is great. I was skeptical at first about him, being an unknown — and I do not deal well with “scary” “weird” “new” priests. But he, too, is an amazing man — in a completely different way than Fr. John.
So, many different blessings have come from the re-assignment, and it has been overall a very positive thing for me.
So, as I was cleaning out my purse and saw the prayer and remembered all these things, I smiled and thanked God. For certainly, His plan in all this was much better than what I had thought in the beginning would have been the best thing to have happen. His will was so much better than mine. And because things worked out so very well, I thought that I should try to keep this in mind and give myself over to his will more. Let His will and not mine be done.
Little did I know that I would be needing that prayer today.
After work today, I called our district manager per usual. While on the phone, she let me know that the company had not been doing as well as they had thought with the printing side of the business and that her boss, the regional manager, had looked at ways to cut back on costs. The end result: I was going to be laid off in 2 weeks. That’s right. After working there for 8 years, I was about to be terminated. What a shock.
My first reaction was to want to go to the car and call someone to vent and discuss this. However, I had left my cell phone at home, so I faced an hour drive with no one to talk to except God. Then, I remembered the Prayer of Abandonment, and how God had made things turn out so perfect, when I was sure that everything was headed for disaster. Certain things would pop into my head. Like trying to figure out how I can run right out and get another job so that I would have the security of a second income. And how I didn’t appreciate this job and took it for granted. It was going to be difficult for me to find a job like this one, where I basically just worked 2 hours on Saturday mornings and got $40 for it. Other jobs might ask that I work evenings or on Sundays, which I was not crazy about doing. I really wasn’t too crazy about the idea of working a full 8 hours on Saturday, but knew that this might be necessary.
Then, I stopped myself again. Here I am, trying to “fix” things. I thought again of that prayer. Maybe — just maybe — God wanted me to not work here any more. Maybe He wants to fill my time in some other way. So, as hard as it is for me to be still, I am going to make every effort to *not* run out and do something with this block of time, but to really pray about it and try to discern what it is that the Lord wants for me in this regard.
The only question now is what to do about Saturday morning Mass. St. Anastasia no longer has Saturday morning Mass, and it doesn’t seem like it would really make that much sense to spend $12 in gas to drive out to Plymouth if I weren’t heading that way anyway for work. I’m not crazy about trying to find a “new” “weird” church locally, and I am not all that crazy about going to church by myself. But, I will leave this, too, in the hands of God and trust that He will work something out for me.
One would think that maybe this would have been enough for one day. But no. See, because I was feeling bad about taking my job for granted, and because I wanted to make sure that I was reconciled with God, I decided to go to Confession. I was expecting it to be Fr. JJ. It was not. It was someone’s boss, instead. Hmm. I almost decided to skip Confession today and to come back some other time. Maybe OLGC on Tuesday, or try next Saturday for Fr. JJ. But then that thought popped into my head again. Why am I worried about who the priest is? Why in the world am I letting that be a barrier between me and Jesus? What could possibly keep me from reconciling myself to the only one who can make everything better?
Thank You, Holy Spirit, for giving me a swift kick in the butt. I needed that. Obviously, You are right and my logic is flawed. So, I went in and sat in line.
Now, I don’t think I’ve posted my conversion story on this blog yet, so you may not know about The Wrong Mass. Apparently, there *is* a Wrong Mass, for I have gone to The Wrong Mass twice now. The first time this happened, I was told by Fr. John that I went to the wrong Mass, to whom I replied in a shocked, incredulous tone, “There’s a wrong Mass?!?!?!?!?” Okay, keep that in mind.
I enter the confessional (or reconciliation room — I’m not sure what the difference is) and sit down and Msgr. asks me what scripture I brought in with me for confession. In the same shocked, incredulous tone I say, “We were supposed to bring a scripture?!?!?!?!?” [See the similarity?]
He nods and says something like, of course, scripture is how He talks to us and it is very important. Luckily, I did happen to know one passage and was able to talk about that, even though it didn’t explicitly talk about repentance or anything like that, he said it was a good one to start with. Whew! Okay, okay. I know, I gotta dig into the Bible a little more, and actually try to memorize maybe some of it. Or at least tag a few passages for confession. 🙂
So, I’m already a little uneasy because this is an unknown-quantity priest, but so far, he’s okay. It was actually a fairly helpful confession and I didn’t get kiboshed over the head in quite the way that I had expected to. Instead, I’m supposed to be directing my focus this week on mercy. Both seeing how I give it, and also seeing how I receive it. It was hypothesized that from what I said, I appear to be someone who gives mercy better than she receives mercy. Something to look into and grow with, which, I’m sure, was the point.
That being done with, I open up my little missal to my Act of Contrition. So, of course, once again today, my plans are thwarted when he says, “Now, in your own words, express your sorrow to God.” Oh man! Doesn’t he know how horrible I am at spontaneous prayer?? I figure that God may get what I mean, but I’m certain that I sound ridiculous to anyone else. So, I come up with something, and he doesn’t appear to turn purple or laugh or anything, so either it was acceptable, or he has got a really strong tolerance for the inept at praying.
So, while it is not yet over, it has certainly been a day for me to stretch and grow as a person.
Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. I pray that I will always trust in you, for your way is so much better than my way. I pray that you will give me grace and confidence to know that you are my Father, that you love me, and that you will always take care of me. Amen.
How My Car Teaches Me About God, Parenting and Myself
I went to Mass this morning in a pretty good mood, about half-way into my trip, I put on a Podcast talking about what happens during Mass. I am actually not sick today — feeling pretty good physically; so that helped my happy mood, too. I was running a little late and walked into church just a few seconds before Mass began. Literally, I walked in the chapel just ahead of Fr. John and probably caused him to have to wait for me at the baptismal font.
I usually have a very difficult time with distractions during Mass. Not that I don’t want to be fully engaged, but Fr. JJ thinks that I may have a little bit of ADHD, and I keep having to bring myself back to what is occurring in front of me. My mind wanders so very easily. But today, I managed to stay mostly focused (by the grace of God, certainly). As Mass continued, I became increasingly joyful, almost to the point of grinning. (I try not to do that, though — wouldn’t want Father to think I was laughing at him or something.) I became so joyful, that I was worried about after Mass for a moment, because I intended to ask Fr. John about the outcome of the vote in the Michigan senate (?) about partial-birth abortions, and it just wouldn’t do to be smiling when one asks about that sort of thing.
After Mass, I caught him and he asked how I was doing (“Very, very good! You?”) and then he paused when I asked about the partial-birth abortions and said that he hadn’t heard anything other than they were supposed to vote on Wednesday, but didn’t, then they were supposed to vote yesterday, but didn’t — and to keep praying. He started inching towards the door (and his car) again, while I remained behind to talk to a friend whose wife is due in just a few weeks with their second child.
As I left and approached my car, I saw something concerning. I stopped and looked at the passenger side and there was one — no, two — vertical dents in the door. Obviously, someone had hit my car with their door. My car is not quite 5 months old, and it’s the first new car I’ve ever had. I stood there for a second, feeling the dents, waiting to feel anger — for surely that has always been my response to things like this — a visceral, self-righteous hatred of the negligent offender. To my surprise, that anger…never came. I was still happy and joyful, and I didn’t understand why.
So, I pondered this.
First, I thought about how even though it was important to me, it was just a thing. And things will come and go.
Second, I don’t have control over anything other than my own actions. I can try to protect my car, but there is going to be a time (quite frequently) where I am not around and it is going to be on its own, for better or for worse. I have to learn to let go and not try to cling or control all situations. Worry and anger aren’t going to change anything, and they aren’t going to prevent anything — so, why be anxious?
Third, as I looked at my car, I felt sorry, and I think I actually said something to it like, “I’m sorry this happened to you, but I still love you just the same.” Now, I’m not really in love with my car. Certainly, I like it and I enjoy it, but I’m not obsessed with it or anything like that. So I thought about what I said and realized that in a way, this might be how God feels about us. He may be sorry that bad things happen to us, and sorrowful when we sin, knowing that we are hurting ourselves, but He loves us anyway — despite our dents. And in the end, when we go home, we may look at one another and see all of the dents that we have and praise God all the more for His mercy and His grace and His aid to help us through all the rough patches during our pilgrimage here.
Fourth, I wondered at the power of the Eucharist, for certainly this grace that was given to me to look beyond myself and my interests had to have come from Him. It *had* to be due to the presence of God dwelling within me. What an amazing thing that is! I hope that I am always open to having Him work through me, and to be able to reflect His love onto others. To not only work towards, but to desire to conform myself to Christ.
Finally, I prayed for the person who dented my car. Perhaps they were having a really bad day and they need prayer to help with whatever situation they were/are in. Perhaps it was an accident and they felt horrible about it, and they need to know that it’s okay, that they can slip up and still be loved by God and by their neighbors. Perhaps they were just negligent and uncaring, in which case I pray that God will open their hearts to a sense of communion with others and work on their heart to make them desire to fully be a part of the Body of Christ.
Then, I looked at myself, and wondered if maybe this wasn’t just a small beginning into understanding what it means to lead a Christian life, and to want the good for others and to die to self. For certain, it is only a very, very small step, but just maybe I’ll be able to take something away from this experience and be able to apply it in the future in a positive way.
Have a joyous, blessed day! 🙂
Roasted Shallots
Originally uploaded by CadyLy
I’ve never made shallots before, and I’m about to use them in 2 recipes for dinner on Saturday. I thought I would try roasting one first, just to see what it tasted like. Mostly, like onions.
This is also going to be my first time having one of my priests over for dinner. We will be a party of five. I hope I learn how to cook between now and then! 🙂
Nineveh
John 15:16
“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide; so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.”
This seems like an apt reflection for the day. For a while now, I have been pondering a situation which I have found myself in. Let’s start by using a Jonah analogy (because I love Jonah), and go from there.
God tells Jonah to go to Nineveh. Jonah’s not particularly excited to go to Nineveh. Jonah decides to go for a boat ride, because boat rides are fun and then he doesn’t have to think about Nineveh. He falls asleep, and wakes up with the boat on shore. God tells him, “You’re in Nineveh.” Jonah pouts, “What?!? Are you serious? I didn’t want to go to Nineveh.” God says, “Tough. Here you are.”
 As you may have guessed, I’m Jonah in this story. As necessary background, I suppose I should say that I have odd views on family, and I tend to “adopt” people into my “family.” My “chosen family,” as I call them. And I love them as I love the members of my family: completely, unconditionally, permanently. I also have other categories:  such as my close friends, my long-term friends, and friends whom I consider to have been given to me by God. I tend to feel, for the most part, that I have some active choice in who I designate as my “family.”
Except for this one case.
[Ignore the wrong pronouns, I’m trying to be non-gender-specific…. 🙂 ] I met this person a while ago, and I thought they were fine, pleasant, interesting, intelligent — any manner of things. But also a little scary, in the way that they seemed to “get me” so quickly and accurately. There were other factors that went into it, but suffice it to say that I decided that I would keep this person at arms length from me. Oh, I would definitely interact with them, but I wasn’t about to make it personal.
Critical Steinbeck Error — you know, “best laid plans of mice and men….” ? Or that other quote, “If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans.”
So, this arms length thing being my decision, God says, “Oh, really? Nope. Actually, I’m going to make you care for this person.” [Okay, God didn’t really speak to me in words as such, so this is my translation of what I got. I’m sure God can speak much more eloquently than this, but He’s speaking to my level here….]
“What? No, no, no. I want an impersonal, working relationship. Nothing complicated or messy or, well, involved.” So, I go about trying to minimize contact with this person, to create a bubble between me and them. My little ostrich head was firmly planted in the sand, and my fingers were in my ears, “La la la, I can’t hear you!”
A little while later, Gods tell me, “You know what? Not only are you going to care for them, but you are going to love them. They will be your family.”
“But I don’t want that!!!” I didn’t actually go so far as to tell God “No,” but I made my preference clear. “I don’t want to love this person!”
Then, God laughs. “Tough. Look in your heart. You already do.”
Oh no. I did.
After that, it’s like a phrase that a friend of mine likes to say: “You will do it. You will like it. And you will like liking it.” But first, being me, I had to spend at least a little time grumbling about the fact that I didn’t particularly choose to make this person part of my family. But, what do you do? When you love, you love. And God didn’t give me one of these fleeting affections. It’s like all of me is deeply involved in the well-being of this Other. And of course, being me, I was concerned about this. What if it wasn’t something of God, and was instead some personal psychiatric disorder? What if for some reason, I had developed some unnatural fixation or obsession with this person, and was trying to justify it to myself? Maybe I just wanted love or approval in return and thought that this person would reciprocate? Any sort of questioning you can think of — I put myself through it. Basically, I didn’t trust myself not to be messed up in some way. I’m not the best at relationships. Haha, or trusting!
 So, now I have this person. And they are my family. And I pray for them every day. And I worry over them. I’m okay if they are okay. I don’t have to be a major player in this person’s life, even though they are a major player in mine. It’s not necessary or even expected that they would care for me. And I’m okay with that too.
Sometimes, I wondered about all this, but mostly I just accepted it and went about my business praying for and worrying about and rejoicing in the fact that God made this unique individual, and that He wrote this person onto my heart.
Recently, however, I came across this Vatican document or other. And it was kind of talking about this: that sometimes God may give a person to another person, for them to carry spiritually. To love and nurture and pray for and suffer for. Sometimes, a person is given an Other to carry, and s/he may have never met the person before. Or may not ever meet them (until heaven).
Maybe this is what has been going on with me and my person.
Which brings me back to John 15:16, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide; so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.”
I didn’t choose God. God choose me. I have no idea why, but God called me from my secular, atheist life and gave me a new heart and faith and a deep hunger to know Him. And now He’s given me this Other. So, now I have to go bear fruit. I had not ever consciously decided to pray for this person every day. It just happened on its own. I wanted to. It is a joy. And maybe that is a purpose for me. A task. A calling. A something.
And so while I didn’t want to go to Nineveh, I ended up in Nineveh anyway. And you know what? Nineveh’s a pretty awesome place. And I will continue to muddle my way along, trying to discern God’s will.
Thanking Him for this gift.
Teaser Photo
Here’s just one of the many, many pictures that I took over the weekend. I do not have a great zoom, and was sitting quite high in the stands, so the picture is a little fuzzy (digital zoom will do that).
It was amazing! It was great! I need a thesaurus for my superlative adjectives!
One day, when I am no longer tired, I may write more on this. For now, I have a mountain of things to get done in the office!





