April Showers

 The past few weeks I've been continuing to process some of the childhood/father/abandonment wounds that have come up in therapy.

I took some time to allow myself to be angry at my dad, and also to mourn what could have been. Its difficult to know how my life could have looked if my dad had been around. In every version I can come up with in my head, he would have been a better man than he was. It wouldn't have been him who was in my life, but a better version of him. And honestly, I deserved a better version of him. I deserved a man who would sacrifice for me, a dad who would see me and know me and delight in me. I deserved the hard work it would have taken for him to overcome his own childhood/father wounds so that he didn't pass them on. 

The good news in all of this is that God the Father did know all of this would happen, and He knew how I would cope with these wounds and he knows how I will heal from them so that I don't perpetuate the cycle. He's already made this part of my redemption story, and for that I am grateful. 

This week a bunch of crazy stuff has gone down at my parish. The diocese investigated some employees and one has quit and one has been fired. Also both youth ministers are leaving as well (separate, unrelated to the investigation as far as I can tell.) and I've been asked to consider working there part time as the young adult person. On one hand, I desperately want to be involved in the planning/vision casting for the evangelization department, and this is a way to get a seat at that table. On the other hand, there's almost nothing happening for young adults at my parish, so getting a program off the ground from scratch is daunting. 

If you're reading this, pray for me! 

Still Processing

 This week in therapy we did a little more work on some of the vows that I made as a child in response to my dad not being around. 

I've tried to think about things from his perspective and to have compassion for him, but I've also tried to let that little girl inside of me feel her feelings and express them. As an adult I can conjecture that maybe my dad thought I was better off without him, he'd certainly been messed up enough by his own dad that he probably thought no dad was better than him as a dad. Or maybe he just never knew how to be a dad. I'm not sure. When I was a kid though, I tried so hard to act like I didn't need him. He was more like an uncle to me, and I never really felt his absence. But deep down, we're made to be parented by a mother and a father, and even though I couldn't put words to it or probably even express the feeling of an unknown need going unmet, I did need him. And he wasn't there. And that feels unfair. The little girl in me is angry at him for not at least trying. So what did she do? She put up walls. She said I'll never be dependent on someone else. I'm the only one who is reliable, so I'm going to keep everyone else out and just rely on myself. And now I'm having to deal with the consequences of these vows that I made at a young age and the repercussions they've had in my life for thirty years..... which just feeds back into the "I have to do everything (including healing) myself." 

But Jesus did come in along the way to offer me something new. He is someone who is radically dependable, He ALWAYS keeps His promises. He is the definition of reliable, trustworthy, and good. 

So Jesus, I offer you full access to me. I don't want any walls up between us. I will let YOU be provider and protector, and I will do my best to tear down these walls I've built and to renounce these vows and judgments I've made, because I want us to be fully united. I don't want to hold anything of myself back from Your love and Your heart. 

Peace and Insecurities

 In therapy we've been uncovering some of the ways that I rely on myself (instead of God) and some of the wounds that have led to my "I'll do it myself" attitude. This kind of mental work isn't something I'm particularly accustomed to even though I've been in therapy for a long time, and I like to think of myself as decently insightful and introspective. 

The good news is that while this has been going on in my mind for the past few weeks/months, my life has been remarkably peaceful. I'm incredibly grateful for this peace in my life right now because I honestly don't know if I'd be able to do the mental work if I had a lot of drama going on in my life. 

I don't think anyone is reading this, so here comes some extreme vulnerability:
It's really hard for me to get close to men who aren't "off limits" (like, I can be good friends and ONLY friends with men who are married or for whatever reason I cannot date, but if there's even a possibility that I could date them, I have a really hard time getting close to them.) 
This is because I've had my heart broken, right? But who hasn't? 
When I think of someone I'd want to date, I have a strong desire to be planned for. I feel like I've been planning my whole adult life for my vocation, so I want to know that the man I end up with has at least thought of me too. I'm not expecting him to be perfect, or to never have dated anyone, or to have saved money for the future the way I have.... but I do want him to have thought hmmm, someday I'll be married, so I should try to make myself the best man I can be for her. (Is this asking too much? Honestly, maybe.)

I'm realizing that my desire to be provided and protected is normal.... but my desire to be planned for might be on the extreme side, and I think it's because my parents never planned for me. My dad especially never planned for me, and I don't think he made any sacrifices to ensure that I was protected and provided for. This leads me to be judgmental of men who do things that scream "not planning for the future" like sleeping around a lot or not working in or towards a job that could support a family. 

Maybe related but maybe not:
I also think I have a hard time being vulnerable because my biggest insecurity (my body) is the first thing people see when they meet me, so I don't like to open up to people because it's like, they already got my deepest insecurity without even talking to me, I'm not going to let them in and give them any more of me. 

idk. 

Don't worry, Jesus and Lisa and I are figuring it out. (and I'm doing it for me.... but also for my vocation too, a little bit.) 

Forgetting Something

 I'm not sure why, but for the past few months, at least a few times a week I feel like I'm forgetting something kinda big. Not just like I forgot to buy eggs, but like.... I'm supposed to be doing something I committed to and I have forgotten about it completely. But I don't know what it is.

Katelyn thinks the Holy Spirit is trying to tell me something, and next time I feel that way to stop and say "speak Lord, your servant is listening." It's good advice. We'll see what happens.

Similarly, every time I think about going to the grocery store, I almost stop myself thinking that I'll be on a trip or something next week... but I have no trips planned until May. We have been talking a lot about the upcoming trip, so maybe that is part of it? I'm not sure. 

Happy Feast Day to Saint Joseph (yesterday)! 
Still no future husband to report.

Unnamed Feelings

 I haven't posted every Sunday like I wanted to, but 3 per month so far this year seems like a good pace.

Today I went to the funeral of a man I've known since I was in the 5th grade. 

The backstory: when I was in the 3rd grade, my mom bought me my little quarter horse, Jellybean. At the time, we lived in Grapevine and Jellybean lived one town over in Southlake at a barn on a 5-acre plot of land managed by Jellybean's former owner, Kim. 

Fast forward 2 years, a little half acre with a single wide trailer adjacent to the land and across a dirt road (Crawford Court) from Kim's house came up for sale. My mom saw it as an opportunity for me to be closer to Jells, ride more often, and even feed him before school and all the responsible horse owner things. So, she bought that half acre with the trailer and started dreaming of building a new house on that land. I remember spending hours drawing floor plans of our future house. 

Not long after we moved into that little trailer that was supposed to be temporary, we got into the car accident that changed everything. My mom was unable to work and was put on long-term disability. While she was on disability, her company fired her, which is illegal, and thus began a three year long legal battle where we basically spent every dime she'd ever saved, and then we sold the half acre with the little trailer and moved in with my aunt when I was in the 9th grade. Ultimately the lawsuit was resolved, and my mom bought her house on Summerplace in Southlake that she still owns. 

But the point of the story is this: while we lived in that little trailer on Crawford Court, we moved onto a dirt road sandwiched in between two Crawford brothers. The land had been their parents, and when their parents died each of their kids got an acre. The stone house where the Crawfords were born still sits at the head of the dirt road on top of the hill. Papa Tommy lived down the hill and Papa James lived up the hill. They were brothers and they were good men. They looked out for each other, and they looked out for us. Over the years, both brothers mowed our lawn when it needed it and helped fix things that broke around the house. They never accepted anything in return except for a ham we'd get them every year at Christmas. While we lived there, Tommy's daughter and her three kids lived with him for a while. The kids weren't even old enough to go to school when we first moved in, but at least a few times per week they'd come over to see what I was doing. We were all allowed to just run amok on Crawford Court. There wasn't really anything we could do that'd get us into trouble.... just a bunch of dirt. The kids would come ride Jellybean with me sometimes. Other times I'd take Sis (the only girl) and we'd paint our nails while the boys played in the mud outside. 

She came up to me at the funeral today to say hello. I haven't seen her since she was probably 5 and I couldn't believe how much she looks like her mother. I had an actual flashback and for a second I thought she was her mother, but I thought... how could she have aged backwards? 

I loved those kiddos so much, and growing up on Crawford Court was so simple. I can't explain the feelings I felt when I saw her today. I wanted to pick her up and kiss her cheek like she was 5 again, but we're somehow all grown up and she's a full blown adult. How did this happen? Time is a thief, for sure.  It made me reflect on so many other people in my life, especially people I haven't seen for a long time. Everyone just means so much to me, even people I haven't seen or spoken to in decades. 

I was so embarrassed to live in a trailer for those years. I went to school with the children of professional athletes and CFOs. Kids at my school got brand new Mercedes Benz for their sixteenth birthdays. I never wanted anyone to come over, and sometimes when my friends' parents insisted on driving me home from something, I'd tell them I needed to be dropped off at the barn to check on Jellybean, so they wouldn't drive down Crawford Court to see our house. As an adult I see how very little that matters: we had a roof over our head, groceries in the fridge, and I had a horse for crying out loud. But as a kid I was embarrassed. Looking back though, something about that old dirt road seems so sacred. 

Today at Papa James' funeral, the pastor recited Psalm 23 from the King James Version of the Bible and invited the people in attendance to say it along with him. I could not believe how many people there knew the entire Psalm word for word. The parking lot was full of pickup trucks and the funeral was full of men in jeans, boots, and cowboy hats. 

To be honest, I don’t know what kind of relationship Papa James had with Jesus. He was a mason…. And idk what kinda sketchy stuff goes on there (lol). But I know that he knew the workers at his local Walmart, and probably knew something about their families. I know he helped my mom out more times than I can count and expected nothing in return. I know that he really saw people. And I know that God is merciful and that Papa James will get his just reward. 

Something about his passing feels like the end of an era.

I hope there will be a new generation of saints at my funeral reciting Psalm 23.

Bonus Post

 I've been having trouble sleeping at night (no problem napping during the day though...) so I think now is as good of a time as any to go through and update this blog on a few life changes that have happened since I was regularly writing in 2017/2018.

I bought a house in 2018. It is this little two-bedroom home on a cute street in a quiet neighborhood. The perfect first home, in my opinion. So perfect, in fact, that I did not sell it when I bought a bigger home in 2020. There are home tours of both houses on my Instagram highlights, if you're interested. (@blittany)

The story of how I bought my second house is really cool, I think. In early 2020, interest rates had fallen significantly, and I decided to refinance my little house to get rid of my PMI and lower my interest rate. In the midst of that, I was still reeling from the changes of working from home and COVID isolation, and I started therapy. The therapist I was seeing recommended a daily routine to signal that work was done for the day and build in some artificial compartmentalization between work and home. I decided that each day at 5:00 I would get in my car and drive to my church to "park and pray." I was reading Sheed's Theology for Beginners (highly recommend!) and my prayer life was pretty consistent. (And for me, consistent equals good most of the time.) Around late March, early April, I randomly decided to look at houses on this app my realtor had given me when I bought my first house. There is a neighborhood I would drive past every day on the way to the Church for park and pray, and I called my realtor and asked for him to set up a search to email me every time a house with at least 4 bedrooms in that neighborhood came on the market. I saw a few that I liked in April but didn't think much of them because I was not quite ready to buy anything. I needed at least one more bonus check for the downpayment and I needed to make sure my refinance had already wrapped up, which was going to take about a month. A few weeks later, one of the houses I'd seen kept coming up in my mind while I was praying. I looked at the app and it said under contract, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Fast forward to the end of May- the refinance is done, I had an extra bonus check, and I was ready to keep looking. I logged on to the app and that house was still listed as under contract. I called my realtor and asked... is this normal that it's still "under contract?" over a month later? He called the sellers agent, and the contract had actually fallen through that week. We went to see the house, put an offer down, and after some back and forth about the roof, I closed on the house on 9/11/20. While there are some things I would change and might eventually change about it, overall, it is my dream home in my dream neighborhood, and I hope I never have to move again. Consider these roots put down haha. 

I've also been so blessed to be able to travel a decent amount since I last updated the blog about my Yellowstone trip in 2018. Later in 2018 I went to Northern Europe and did a loop around the entire Baltic Sea. I got to see the Northern Lights in the Artic Circle of Norway and Finland, I took an overnight ferry from Stockholm to Helsinki. I visited Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. I began my love affair with Poland. I saw the Berlin wall. I went to Mass in 9 languages. All by myself in 16 days. 

In 2019, Katelyn and I took a trip to celebrate our 30th birthdays in the Bahamas, where we stayed at Sandals and had the BEST time. 

2020 was out for international travel, but I did go to Virginia to see my sweet Katie marry Michael. I spent Halloween in Denver with my goddaughter Elizabeth and her parents Allie and Michael. I visited Caralyn in NOLA in December.

I also lost my dad in December of 2020. He was only 58. I might write more about him later, but please pray for the repose of his soul!

I'm not sure what happened in 2021- it kinda seems like a blur.  I do know that I spent a great deal of time in the pool in my backyard, and now I really wonder how I ever lived without a pool in Texas in the summer. I'm in that thing every single day from May to September. I think 2021 was the year I took a pretty awful road trip to Ohio to celebrate my grandmother's 84th birthday. 

In the Fall of 2022, I took another Eurotrip. This time to Prague, Salzburg, Vienna, Ljubljana, Trieste, Zagreb, Budapest, and of course, Krakow. Seeing where JPII grew up and lived was definitely a highlight. 

In the Fall of 2023, I got to go back to Europe again (are you sensing a theme?) and this time it was to Brussels, Bruges, Luxembourg, and Amsterdam. It was a great trip- and I actually ran into a friend from high school who lives in Amsterdam now (completely unplanned.... it was SHOCKING.)

There are lots of things I can say about each trip- maybe I'll write about them soon. Maybe not. We'll see. 

This year we're changing things up though... the Eurotrip will be in the Spring! I'm going on a roommate trip to London, Edinburgh, and Dublin in May!  

Two In One

 I missed posting last week (and yesterday) because I lost the charger to my laptop and had to order a new one 3 separate times to get the right one. The first one never came, the second was the wrong size (my b) and the third is Goldilocks. 

My therapist wanted me to journal about some of the things we've been working on. Over the last few months especially we've done kinda a deep dive into my childhood and what it was like being parented (or sometimes not) by my parents. 

One thing that's hard for me to do is criticize my mom especially because I truly do believe she did the best she could. But two things can be true: she did her best and had good intentions, and it still wasn't what I needed. I hope I remember that if I ever become a mom. I want to do my best, but I also want to be discerning of what my children need in "triggered" moments and try to be mindful that my best might look different from what I think. 

Ultimately, I think all of my wounds and sins stem from what Dr. Bob Schutts calls "unholy self-reliance." I learned from a young age to be self-reliant, and there were times that it served me well. There have also been times when self-reliance has led to me making vows that I can't rely on anyone else or trust anyone else, and those things simply aren't true.  

A vow that I'm working on renouncing now is that no one can take care of me as well as I can take care of me. Obviously, as a follower of Jesus, I have to believe that this isn't true. But it's difficult. 

I've also been going for both quality and quantity in my "consumption" of scripture. I'm trying to read 4-8 chapters of the NT per night in addition to my normal meditation on the daily Gospel reading. I just want to be so immersed in the Word that I can more clearly recognize the times and ways that my life doesn't line up with what I find in the Word. 

Help me, Jesus!

Pearl of Great Price

 This week in atrium I was presenting the parable of the Precious Pearl to one of my children. It's important, in the materials for this parable, that the pearls that the merchant sells and the pearl of great price are the same size. The little girl asked, "why would he sell all these just for this one?" And I said, "Hmm, I wonder. What do you think?" She thought about it for a second and she said, "I would never do that, that's ridiculous!!" And I agree. The God we serve is absolutely ridiculous, outrageous, scandalous in His love for us. Thank you to little Grace for reminding me.

This week in prayer I was thinking about how many modern men think they can get to Heaven by "being a good person." It's very interesting to me that Catholics get accused of believing in works as a means of salvation, when our country, which was founded on Protestant ideals and was actually quite hostile to Catholics, is now full of people who think they'll go to Heaven because they're not Hitler. The Lord reminded me that He came to call sinners, and that only the sick have need of a Physician. "Good" when applied by a man to himself is relative and no one is truly GOOD but God alone. We don't get to go to Heaven by being less bad than Hitler, and we don't get to go to Heaven just by being kind to others. We have to respond to Jesus's invitation to drop our nets and come after Him: to enter into the rest of the Father. 

I'm wrestling a bit with waiting. I feel like I spent all of my 20s waiting for the Lord to reveal my vocation to me. I've tried to spend my 30s so far more concerned with being obedient to the present moment. I want to give the Lord permission to move. I want to get out of His way and see what He can do. 

The "Little Way" of Suffering

 This year I am a catechist in a level one atrium doing Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. It's a Montessori style Catholic religious education program. I have 14 (!!!) 3-6 year olds in my atrium and they honestly amaze me every week.

A few weeks ago, I was presenting the Magi to a three year old and as I finished, I said "I wonder why they brought gold to the baby Jesus." Sweet Jack said to me, "because He's a KING!" 
I said "YES! He's a King! But the Magi were kings too.... so why was Baby Jesus different?" (Honestly I had no idea what he would say.) And Jack said "because of the FATHER!" 

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

This week I made it to the chapel every day but Friday. So we're putting that in the W column. 

I think the two best things I have ever done to become more holy are 1. putting my physical body in the same physical space as Jesus for more than 10 minutes per day and 2. getting in the WORD daily. 

I have a LOT of rough edges that the Lord is trying to smooth out. On one hand, I am hesitant to call anything that I experience suffering because I know that I live a very privileged life: a life that people pray for, a life that I've prayed for. On the other hand, any time we die to ourselves and our preferences, it is a suffering, isn't it? And if I brush it off as a minor inconvenience or an annoyance, I'm not letting the Lord into it. If I call it suffering, then I can extend an invitation to the Lord to let Him come in. 

Since the new liturgical year began at Advent, I feel like my word for this year is Suffering. But I also don't think that there is going to be any huge trial I face or any big obstacle I have to overcome. Instead, I think the Lord is teaching me the "little way" of suffering. He's walking through my heart and picking up little stones that have been firmly rooted. It hurts when He lifts them up, but then He asks, "can I come and abide in this space too?" And have I not been praying "Thy will be done" for decades? So yes, Jesus, you can come and abide even in the hard rocky crevices and the tenderness underneath, even in the dirt and the mud and the space between. You can come and be the light in the places that have been shrouded in darkness for far too long, even when it hurts a little to let you get there. Thy will be done. 

Routines

 If you have ever met me even for 30 seconds you either know explicitly or could assume correctly that I love lists and routines and organization and order and resolutions and planners. 

I think it's because my thoughts often feel chaotic, so I have to create order in my world externally This is probably also why I rarely drink and don't like to feel tipsy at all. 

We could go down a whole rabbit hole, but I'll save that for therapy.

I know that COVID changed everything for everyone, and even though I didn't change jobs or friend groups or locations (well I did move, but only 2.4 miles down the road),  I still feel like my whole world turned upside down when we had to be isolated from people for so long. Last year I spent a lot of time trying to remember what life was like before COVID and getting back to that. I'm finally fully adapted to working from home and I'm even starting a new small group that will meet at my house. 

All this to say, my routines are really important to me (am I on the spectrum? who knows?) and they are really giving me a lot of LIFE this year so far. 

My morning routine involves waking up, coming in my office, taking 3 appointments (9am, 10am, 11am) and at some point grabbing my yogurt + granola + collagen coffee for some protein and caffeine. 
Ideally lunch involves a little mental health walk and some eggs + protein, but this week coming up I have a few meetings at the church during my normal lunch break. 

After work I like to drop by the chapel and pray for a bit, and I've committed to doing #NT24 where we read the whole New Testament in 24 days. Today is day 7? I think? We're finishing John's Gospel. 

At night to wind down, I do some reading, do my skin care, and floss my teeth. Then I take my vitamins, do my NYT crossword and go to bed around 12:30. 

On Friday I went to a prayer night at my friend's house and afterwards some friends were like so how are you, how have you been? And I was like honestly, I'm just like living this quiet little life that looks the same everyday and I kinda love it. I feel like it gives me so much freedom. 

Prayer was inconsistent this week, my goal is to make it to the chapel every single day this week. Hold me accountable, bloggy. 

Love you, mean it, byeeeee <3 

Snowday Sunday

 All the rumors are true. Long form writing is back. The world of 160 characters just isn't enough for me. 

My goal is to write something every Sunday. Maybe it's cathartic. Maybe it's just because I tend to be an external processor. Maybe it's because I'm super nostalgic and want to be able to read my thoughts in a few years.

If this blog were an old friend I had neglected for a few years, I'd have a lot to update it on, but I think instead of walking down memory lane I'll just pick up at the present day and see how it goes. 

My parish recently opened a new Adoration Chapel and my prayer life has benefited tremendously. Today's second reading from 1 Cor 6:13-20 reminded me why that's the case. We're body AND soul, and physically getting my body in the same space as Jesus's is for my good, whether or not my soul recognizes a difference in the moment. 

Today's first reading from 1 Sam 3:3-10 reminded me of a few conversations I've had lately about the voice of the Father. Samuel hears the Lord calling, but he thinks it is Eli who is calling him. But if God's voice sounded completely different from Eli's voice, Samuel wouldn't have gone to Eli. Eli's voice sounds like the voice of the Father to Samuel. It is so important that fathers' voices sound to their children's ears and mind like the voice of God the Father because they are the image of the Father to their children. 

A few months ago I was presenting the Good Shepherd to a six year old in my atrium. When we finished the story I said, "I wonder what the voice of the Shepherd sounds like." He looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "welp, we can't know!" It was a very funny interaction, but I was thinking about it for a long time afterwards. How many adults really believe it's true that we can't know what the Shepherd's voice sounds like? And if they don't believe it's possible to know what His voice sounds like, surely they're not listening to it and practicing hearing it. And if we haven't listened for it and practiced hearing it, how can we speak with it when it's time to pass it on to our children? 

I hope all of us learn to hear clearly the voice of the Father, to love it, to cherish it, and to act on it.