"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  This day last year was hell. Just hell. I had been betrayed by someone I thought I loved, and while trying to wade through the pain, I was denying myself the ability to heal. That seems so long ago.   This year, for the Christmas holiday, I am delightfully happy. And while trying to not put so much pressure on one person for that happiness, I would be remiss if I didn't.   This holiday started, last weekend at my cousin's wedding in Kansas City. After a few days of work, on Wednesday, there was a great family Christmas cookout. Thursday it continued with a fun day with my family eating, fellowshipping, and playing games. It went into the late hours with Mass at my favorite church in the world, and today it kept going with a relaxing Christmas afternoon of more food and good company.   And throughout this entire season there has been one underlying thought: this is nothing like last year. This is nothing like the last 5 years. This is nothing like any other year. And throug

  I asked him a simple question: "what's your biggest fear concerning us?" He couldn't answer, although I know he has at least one. We were driving this morning when I asked, and the thought popped into my head in a continuation of the conversation we had the night before. I told him that there is a small but significant part of me that worries one day he'll decide he's done. For whatever reason, one day he will walk.   But I guess in broad daylight he couldn't figure out his biggest fear. I think his answer was something about kids or something I couldn't assuage. That was my goal, anyway, in asking. Goal diverted.   He came to tuck me in, and tell me what he had just spent the last 2 hours talking to my cousin about: "you," he said. "How much I love you. How much I want to be with you forever. You're independent spirit, how I'll said you'll change." I internally bristled. I am proud of my independent spirit. "Oh

  My boss is very passionate about work/life balance. To him, the two must be maintained or one will fail. For me, someone who likes to work a lot and socialize the same amount, I feel as though I have a good grasp on this concept.   I recently got a laptop at work to make my job easier. I was surprised how much easier it has become. When I was pulled into my boss's office last week, I made the mistake of telling him I had taken some work home. I was immediately told not to do that again. To him, I was going against the very nature of work/life balance. To me, I loved the idea of doing work comfortably on the couch in front of the TV.   As I was conveying to a co-worker how much I liked the idea, she spoke vehemently against it...just like my boss. Difference is I don't have a family that would be affected. Anyway...   This afternoon, our director of production was walked out. Gone. Just in an instant. One moment he was berating me, in jest, for not liking bread pudding, and

  While visiting my family in Arizona, a month back, I got asked this question: are you friends? While sitting next to him on the couch, I got told this statement: you're my best friend. Growing up, I always had at least one best friend. To this day, I could name at least 4 people I consider to be my best friends. But, they all have something in common...they are all very romantically involved with someone. Two are married, one will be shortly and the other has been in a long term relationship.   I always believed that when you are in a relationship it is best to be friends first then lovers second. But I never thought I would truly understand that concept. Honestly, being best friends meant time. Being best friends meant that memories from long past had to sustain you. It was never a connection issue. It was time. How wrong I have been.   Of the 4 people I consider to be besties, I have known them all over 9 years. So I have the time. And over that time memories have been forged

  My family has never been too big on holidays. Sure, we would go here or go there. We would usually be traveling to a family member's house for a meal and fellowship, but it was still not something that ever gave me warm and fuzzies. The most warm and fuzzies I ever got was sitting around the Christmas tree with my mom, my dad, and my brother opening gifts.   There was always one common thread: us 4. 5 years ago, that changed drastically. Since then, holidays have meant very little. So much that last year I spent Christmas at home by myself. I was fine. Little did I know that I would be cheated on ending up spending it in tears. The past is in the past. What I mean is this: Golden Coral has been a Thanksgiving or Christmas norm for me and my family for awhile.    I haven't looked forward to the holiday season in what seems like forever. This year...this year is different. For the first time, in such a long time, I am happy about the up coming season. I am eager even to spe

  I used to be non-denominational. I am now Catholic. I used to be pro-capital punishment. I am now anti-capital punishment. I have always been pro-life. And I have usually always been put in a pretty little political box. However, there is no such thing. The bombings around the world, the refugees, the fight for women's rights, the fight for equal pay for women, the fight for all genders, sexes and races...none of it fits into a pretty little political box.   No one likes to be mislabeled. If that is the case, and it is, then why can't we stop? I saw on Facebook, yesterday, a post by an acquaintance that spoke of her surprise of someone she didn't think would be for the acceptance of refugees was and someone she thought would be for it was opposed. Her next comment was ridiculous. It was along the lines of, "And most of the time I am right about these kinds of things."   Hold up. Just hold up. I get that people can be predictable, but I also get that people can

  It was a year ago this week I got a call while sorting out pee at the peepee palace. I had been told of a job as a receptionist that would pay 2 dollars more than I was currently making. However, it was temporary and started the next day. I was hesitant and reluctant, but I said yes.   A year later, I have moved from receptionist to customer service and have enjoyed every painstaking and agonizing moment of angry customers and the happiness and friendships that have planted and blossomed as well.   Most people who know me know that I started my masters this past August. It has been a good learning experience and I have enjoyed it. It was a means to further my knowledge of the Church and the RCIA program. It was a great idea, at the time, because more than anything I wanted to be involved with this program and get paid to teach Catholic doctrine.   But...things have changed. I have changed. I have for the first time in my work history I have been challenged. Working in the corporat

Babe,                                                                                                                          11/5/2015   I am sitting here thinking about you and how much I love you, and how much you mean to me. Here is something for you.   I love you with all my heart. You have given me such pleasure. I felt it from the start. You are my one true treasure. I will never mistreat you, for you are my true love. We will never be through. My angel from above. When you say you love me for life, I feel it to the depths of my soul.   Referring to yourself as my future wife makes me whole. I will give you my undying devotion and love for as long as I live. I shall kiss you and drink of your potion. For you, I will give all I have.   I want to be with you each night. Falling asleep together...making the world so right: loving each other forever. I love you, Bee Now do you get it?!

  By now, most people should know that I really don't care what others think. I do things that I want...when I want. So far, it has worked out well. I would like to think that my conscience is quiet strong and guides me to where I should be and where I want to be.   That said...what do you want? When it comes to my relationships, I have had multiple instances in which backlash has been had. Some warranted some not. This time...if you only knew. Why do we end up with the ones we do? Is it because we think we deserve that person? Is it because we settle for what we are tired of searching for?   J: a simple (I mean this in the way that means clarity) man who wants one thing...to love and be loved in return. I tell people I found someone who adores me. Their response: but can you find things in common. I tell people I found someone who surpasses the idea I had for myself. Their response: yes but can he talk literature and philosophy and religion and politics and all the other things

  When he first thanked me for hanging out with him, I wasn't sure how to take it. I had never been thanked before in such an odd manner. Why would someone thank me for being in their presence? Why would some one say something that automatically puts me at a higher level?   When I was younger, my parents taught me the authenticity of gratitude. We were thankful children. I believe that if you asked my parents they would agree. Still, to this day, when someone: me, my mom, or my dad makes food...we say thank you. It is the first thing we say as we finish our first bite.   But to have someone thank me for hanging out with them? This was a change. And then...when I would say thank you for something as simple as thanking him for asking about my day I would receive a "you're welcome." Huh. Odd. But, it became a thing with him. First it was a, "Thank you for hanging out with me." Then it was a, "Thank you for spending time with me." Till it became a, &

  You should have seen his face as he approached the canyon. It was endearing. It was as a 3 year old who has chocolate for the first time. It was as a 6 year old who catches a fish for the first time. The light in his eyes was something I won't ever forget. And he climbed. On everything he could. The rocks, the trees, the small cliffs were no match for him, and I just watched.   Until he grabbed my hand and took me to a secluded spot. Until he snaked his arms around me. Until he asked me if I thought the canyon was beautiful. Until he told me he wanted me to know something. Until he told me he loved me. I watched.   I watched until that moment when his nervous brow crinkled, his heart sped up, his mouth opened to bear his heart, and I became a key role in his life. Then it was like a 3 year old who has chocolate for the first time. Then it was like a 6 year old who catches a fish for the first time. The light in his eyes was something I will never forget.   The ride down the mo

Dear Future Husband,   Marriage, to me, was never a means to find my place in this world. It was never a means to find comfort and solice. It was simply: to love. To embrace all your flaws as you embrace mine. Marriage, unbeknownst to many, is not just a piece of paper with the last time I will ever write my maiden name. No, it is more. So much more, and since I chose you, you must obviously feel the same.   Here's what I want: you. You and nothing else. You and no one else. Ever. Some days I will be angry at you for not being who I think you should be. Some days I will want to scream and yell and tear apart the goodness that you bring to my life because sometimes it is going to be hard. Don't change. Don't cease to be the kind-hearted, gentle person that you are when I get that way. It isn't you. I promise.   Because of you, I have laid aside my singlehood for domesticity, and I will fight it. But, I will not mean it. Because I have chosen you, I have chosen to be

  Why? Why do I get everything I want? Why do I get to have a father who has never ceased to show me support and affection? Why do I get to have a mother that with every heart beat pulses out love? Why do I get to have had a brother that looked at the concrete I stood on and thought it was gold? Why do I get a family that is so interwoven we find it hard to see each other as individuals? Why do I get to have friends who embrace my individuality as something to praise? Why do I get to have a job that offers me challenges and fulfillment? Why do I get to have a boyfriend that is honorable and pure good? Why? Why me?   Who? Who do I think I am that I should be worthy of all the good that I have? I am nothing but human...who has the world to grasp. I am nothing but a sinner saved by grace who deserves nothing yet has it all.   Friends, count your blessings. I am feeling sentimental...for good reasons. Too often I fail to be thankful. Too often do I take for granted what God has bestowed

  Last spring I spent a week and a half in DC with a good friend. Every night I talked to my then boy friend. We talked about his new job, how much we missed each other, and how much we couldn't wait to see each other. The day I got home I was distant.   Since I was young, my introvert pops its head up when I have found that I have gone and gone and gone and haven't stopped. If I don't take time for myself...I start to pull into myself and I cease to function properly.   The night I got home from that trip I wasn't the loving person he was expecting, and it caused a huge rift in our relationship. So much so that he held that night against me it was a point he would bring up when we would argue. I couldn't explain enough that it wasn't him I just needed "me" time.   Since then, I have had a fear that anyone else would treat me with the same amount of misunderstanding and disdain when my distant self would kick in. Not white boy.   In fact, I can'

  It amazes me when things happen or show up that weren't there before. It's like when your arm is cold or numb and as it warms up or starts to wake up you get that tingly feeling. It's the one that tells you blood (or life) has started circulating again.   I have heard that when you kiss someone, for the first time, if you don't get that tingly feeling then you obviously aren't with the right one. Personally, I tend to think that's bunk. I have a hard time believing in love at first sight and even more so tinglies at first kiss.   But, as I held him, or more like he held me tonight, I got that tingly feeling. I got that feeling of life coursing out from my heart to the depths of me. It was a small shocking moment. I wonder if he noticed that I hugged him a bit tighter or I whispered "don't leave" into his bare chest. But, if he did feel it or did hear it his response, as in the past, is to cling tighter and whisper back: "never."   Th

I read an article yesterday that spoke too true about me. The title"18 Things You Should Know About the Emotionally Unavailable Woman in Your Life." I am not quite sure why I was drawn to read this, but 18 things wasn't that many, so I decided to check it out. Not quite sure if I am glad I did. Or, maybe I am. 1. She will put her career and goals before love interests.     I don't know if this is fully true. I have always found it easier to focus on work and other activities than it is to focus on any sort of love interest. When it comes to work, work doesn't judge you or compare you to other work. Call it a self-preservation thing. 2. She will definitely leave you if you interfere with her ultimate life goals.     Uh... yeah. This is actually true. I have done it before, and I can't say that I wouldn't do it again. I guess it is best to find someone who lines up with your ultimate goals. 3. She wants it all. And she will get it.     Yup, yup, and

  I look at myself, a lot. I think it has something to do with the fact that I didn't think myself attractive for a long time. Now, I can look at myself even when someone else is in the bathroom. Before, I entered with head bowed and left the same. There are times when I look at myself 3 times before I leave. Most of the time, I focus on one aspect of myself: my eyes, my hair, my waist line, my clothes...something. I can see how this seems egotistical, but perhaps I am making up for lost mirror time.   However, I can only remember one time that I actually looked into the mirror to see something deeper than my outward appearance. And it scared me. I honestly didn't think it was possible to look into the mirror and truly see oneself. It always seemed so cliché. Until I did it.   That was 4 months ago. The moment I decided to walk away from a "relationship" that was nothing more than a confusing drag. It held me bound and clipped the wings I knew God had given me to fl

  I wonder if it was instantaneous like it seems or if my heart has been breaking for sometime. I don't know. I recognized it for what it was as I was driving to his house after Mass. I was in a good mood. Happy even. Granted, Mass usually gets me happy, but I was happy, and I was thinking about the white boy.   For what seems like so long, my heart has been bitter and my defenses were always up. It has been easier to be angry and hurt and engrossed in myself than to actually take the time to realize I was thawing. To realize that my heart was breaking. To realize I was healing.   I don't know when it really happened. It could have been last night when he told me I made his world. It could have been when I told him I had to leave and he hugged me tighter. It could have been tonight as I watched him shoot pool and his arms flexed to show a glimpse of the strength I know he possesses both physically for me and emotionally. It could have been as he sang me the country song he to

  If you can say that you haven't sat in front of someone who cares deeply for you and with a straight face tell them you haven't consciously disregarded them as a human being for your own self-interest, you are a better person than me. It is a despicable thing, and I did it. In that moment of disregard, I carried no remorse.   Now, if you can say that you haven't had to look that person in the eye and apologize knowing your words are only a fraction of the guilt you felt, then you were saved severe embarrassment. Sometimes, I wonder how anyone could consider me a decent human being.   I could say that for my own self-defense that I acted as a scared little child. But even so, that is a very low thing to do. So far, in this relationship, I have spent more time fighting against my own heart and soul. And as I sat across from him it all began to make sense. I have never been truly happy in any relationship. In fact, I am not sure I understand what that word means when it co

  I asked why he smelled so good, and he responds, "I put on deodorant when I got off work." It isn't so much how he smells in that moment. It is that I know I will smell like him when I go home.   I love the way he smells, and when I don't get it for a few days I begin to miss it. Sad thing, is that I don't realize I miss it until I smell it (him) again. But that's the way it is isn't it...we don't truly realize what we miss until we experience it again.   I consider myself pretty lucky. I have a guy who when I spend 4 out of 5 days being moody and downright bitchy still has the audacity to text me and tell me he misses me. All I can think about is the last conversation we had on the phone. You know...the one where I riled on him and laid into him because I was feeling moody. Yeah, that one.   And although he has no problem calling me out on it, he would rather spend our time talking about the good parts than the negative. I've been a mess late

  *whew* when does it end? When do we come to the moment when we look back and see that 5 years have come and gone? Now. Now is that moment. For the last 5 years, I have lived without the one person who made, in my life, the greatest difference. And sometimes, I wonder if I have lived up to his expectations.   I don't know. I can only imagine, but I have a feeling that at some deep level, in his heart, he would be proud. But, who is to know. I feel that I know more than most what he would be proud of, and in my deepest struggles, he was still proud of me.   Tonight, after 5 years of his death, I got to hang out with my friends. I got to be with the people who held my heart and soul above water. And that has made all the difference. I am so blessed. I am blessed beyond measure.   So what next? Only me. I am next. It is my life that must be weighed and hopefully not found wanting. It is my life that must take the next step. I can't imagine sometimes living without him, but I h

  It happened without warning, which I imagine is how it usually does. He came into my cubicle, and without much pretense: smiled, asked me how I was, told me to have a good rest of the day, and walked out.   I didn't really recognize it. He walked in later, smiled, touched my shoulder, heaved a sigh of slight exhaustion, tilted his head, and gave me that he look he gives me. Ya know, the one that says all he can't say because he can't figure out why he likes me so much...and then walked out.   I usually see him down the hall. I have the ability to now recognize him anywhere. The way his shirts cling to his thick arms, the way his pants bunch at his shoes cause they are too long and he wouldn't take them back when I told him it would be a good idea. The way his arms are covered in those silly paper sleeves. It is like they are covering a secret only I know. The way his gait shows such determination and focus. I can recognize all of it. It's the small things.   Wa

  There is a difference between suffocating and being comfortable. And although it is a very fine line, the distinction is blaring. It's like doing something for the first time. There is a moment of not being able to breathe, yet feeling comfortable in your own self to know your limits. Now, whether that analogy made sense, there is a difference.   A month ago tomorrow, I said yes to being involved with a really good man. Someone who has shown me true adoration at the expense of being mushy. Someone who has shown me respect and vulnerability. Someone who has no desire but to fulfill my desires. But, in an instant we became comfortable.   Before I make an ass of myself, I do realize that this is what a lot of people want: a complete comfortable lifestyle. For me, I needed the excitement. And without thinking I found myself in a rut with this one. I found myself craving something else. Not someone else. Just something else.   I will be a testament to someone who hates confrontatio

  We have all heard the debate, whether or not Harry Potter was based on some sort of biblical truth…And there are some, even me, who (in the beginning) would have said, “You can find Christ in anything.”   But now, I have realized that, in reading and fully comprehending “Harry Potter” that it would be impossible not to find Christ in these books. It would almost, notice I emphasize “almost” be to say that it is as obvious as finding Christ in the Bible. But I shan’t go that far.   We, who understand magic, fairy tales, and the mystery of life, would not even contend with placing The Lord of the Rings or The Chronicles of Narnia on the side of evil, or “Satan” (if you will) We full believe, that Christ is present.   So, why is it so hard to imagine Harry Potter as nothing more than a beautiful story of Christ. Some would argue that since magic wands, broomsticks, thestrals, and magical charms are nothing more than Satan working through the minds of young adults to bring them closer

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b

  When we try to live our lives, we have one opinion that matters, our own. We have two things to keep in mind: our happiness and our own responsibility. Nothing else truly matters. Nobody else's opinion really matters. We have the option of respecting and responding to other's opinion of ourselves, but we don't have to.   That's what I am coming to realize. If you want to live my life, then please make a difference in it. If you want to live my life, then support it. If you want to live my life, then take control. But, if you don't do any of those things then please realize that your opinion is just that: an opinion.   This really does make me sound like a selfish, uncaring human being. It does. I can see that. But, I do believe, in my heart, that is farther from the truth. What I mean to say is this...what does it matter? My actions? My heart? My body? Mt soul? What matters to you? Do you wish me not to be in pain?   Andy and I had this solidified idea: those w

 In the movie "Ever After," there is a line that is quoted by the main character to the prince: "First, you make thieves and then punish them." Isn't that exactly what America is doing to other Americans? First, we make people fat and then we shame them.   Now, I do understand, as a big girl who has never been thin, that fatness comes with a certain degree of personal responsibility. I get that. Truly. However, in the grand idea that it is easier to eat fatty foods that are highly addicting than it is to eat healthy, we are constantly battling what we know to be true and what society tells us. The idea that it is better for our longevity to eat better and healthier, but that we should love ourselves where we are and no one should say otherwise.   A few years back I learned of the term: fat shaming. It is something that has taken the world by storm. I know what it is, but just to be sure, I read up a little. Some say it is a term coined by overweight people

  All of us have body parts that we are physically attracted to. Some like boobs, some like eyes, some like butts, some like lips. For me, it is hands. I love hands. You know those veins on the back of one's hands? Yeah, the ones that pulse when a hand is flexed...I love those. Those drive me crazy! Know what else I like? Forearms. I love a man's forearm, and the stronger it is, the more I like them.   Those two things have always been something I notice immediately when I see a man. I can remember the hands of the guys I have been with. So much so, that there is a specific commercial that reminds me of an ex's hands.   But, you should see his hands...white boy's hands. Grrr... When we sit next to each other I can't help but touch them. They are hands that have built and worked and struggled to make a life for himself. And he has succeeded.   Sometimes, I wonder if I like hands in general, or I like what I know is behind their story. I tend to be less attracted t

  Not that many people know, but for the last year and a half I have been working on a fan fiction story.   My fandom: Harry Potter (surprised? ;-)   My ship: Dramione   The intro... "I want you to show me every twisted, frightened thought you’ve ever had. I want your eyes to crack my bones; I want your words to tear my skin apart." Redemption of Malfoy Chapter 1 At what moment do we gain our redemption? Is it the moment we are forgiven for our sins? Or perhaps it is the moment we forgive ourselves. Hermione remembers, when she was 6, her parents had her baptized and the clergyman kept talking about redemption. At the time, it seemed like such a foreign concept to her: words like sin, penance, atonement meant little to her, and when she was dunked under the water she remembers feeling no cosmic difference or internal change. So, she doesn’t think that was the moment. ****** Another guttural growl slams Hermione back into reality and it comes from the blonde n

  Had I written this 2 days ago, I would have completed one full year of blogging. Granted, I have only written 176 blogs and published 164. So, unfortunately, I didn't complete what I set out to do: a blog a day. But, let's pretend that today is July 10th, 2015...2 days ago. What has changed?   One year ago: I sat in a nice hotel, alone, waiting on the pizza I ordered 45 minutes prior, drinking a bottle of wine, trying to make up my mind on a title for my blog. I had recently set out on a month long trip to see friends and family with a heart that was trying to mend, still finding itself in love with the man who told me he loved me but couldn't...   Tonight: I stood amongst my closest friends, enjoying laughter of intimacy knowing that all I wanted for my 30th birthday was all of us together. That simple. And, I got it. My heart, full of joy, was overwhelmed and mended.   These two nights are so completely different but a true reflection of my last year. I have made new

  This week has been epic. For not the first time, in the history of the United States, the culture has changed at the hands of the Supreme Court. We all know what happened. Some of us embrace it, and some of us don't. Some of us are thrilled beyond measure, and some of us are not.   And, like all things, this created a worldwide social media frenzy. It wasn't until I got online that the negativity from both sides made my stomach churn. How could we? How could we, as humans who want nothing more than happiness, demean each other? For what reason, did I see many posts of people saying they blocked someone or un-friended them? For what reason do they tolerate and read countless mundane things from this person then when a difference of opinions arises...they no longer can tolerate the sight of their name?   Here is a question, to you who call yourselves Christians: what makes you call out your fellow human beings spouting the idea of: love the sinner hate the sin when your own b

  Since my brother died, I have not celebrated father's day as I once did. These days it consists of wishing my father an almost shy "happy father's day" and moving on. My father, not one for bit to-dos, probably understands. In fact, he may welcome it. But, I feel that most times I don't recognize enough the man he is. Let me tell you about my father:   At 29, he married my mother after a failed marriage of 6 years. He had my brother at 33, and me at 37 (if my math is correct.) My father, a hard-working, non-garish, different type of man. On the outside, to the rest of the world he can seem like an obtuse object of humanness, until they get to know him. To the rest of the world he can seem like not much matters other than being respected, until they get to know him.   That's the thing: my father is a guidepost. He has always and will forever be a great father. He is someone that is a constant, and when the world gets a glimpse inside the man that I see, the

  Never has freedom been explicitly defined. It is one of those things that comes to us in a moment and leaves us feeling light and unfettered. But, what does it mean? I am not one to believe that things in life are subjective, but those things that I can't hold to a moral bound I can label subjective. This is one of them.   I follow this kid on Tumblr. In 2005, he decided to ask one question, "What does freedom mean to you." Since then and still he has collected responses from presidents, actors, athletes, and what the rest of us consider ourselves: the ordinary. And, when I read one of these cards, I try to ask myself that question but get stuck.   This week a friend, on FaceBook, posted this quote, "The only way humans have ever figured out of getting somewhere is to leave something behind." Instantly, this quote struck me. I can't stop thinking about it. But, I haven't been thinking about it in a physical sense, but more in a sense of personal dire

I kissed him, and he told me, "You like me more than you say." My reply, "In the end it doesn't matter."   I can't remember if I have written about lists or desires or expectations of significant others and the ones we want in our lives, but the idea: of the perfect one...might be shattering. Someone once told me that the older a man gets the shorter his list is and the older the woman the longer. For the last few weeks, I have spent a great deal of time thinking of my own list. It is very short and explicit: taller than me, darker skinned, college educated, good job, and Catholic.   Again, I remember sitting with some very dear friends, at a coffee bar, and they were making me evaluate what it was on my list that was flexible. The thing I came down to, although I didn't adhere to it, was all that truly mattered was that they were Catholic. Since that time, I have been involved with the brown boy and the desire to make a life with the brown one. Both

  I was sitting with a friend, a few weeks back, and they started the conversation like this: "I have never told any one this but..." In that moment, I became not just a secret keeper, but a burden bearer. We have all had this happen to us. We have all done this to others. But why? Is it because we demand community as humans? Is it because we long for intimacy and give someone the ability to delve into the deepest part of ourselves? Is it because the weight of that secret is just too much to bear?    I don't know. As the weeks have past, I have thought about that particular secret that was held so tightly in their heart and was finally given air to breathe. I have thought about the fact that it is no longer a secret but my burden to bear. Sometimes, if I let it get to me...it starts to get heavy.    It reminds me of the time my brother found out the name of my father's ex-wife. For 6 years, my father was married to a woman named Shirley. It wasn't something that

  This past weekend, I was thrust into an almost deja vu moment. I was sitting in the pew of a beautiful church in the hot desert heat of West Texas watching a very dear friend make a solemn promise. However, this time...he was transitioning from deacon to priest. At 26, Ryan Rojo was laid prostrate either mentally berating himself, thoughtfully contemplating, soulfully pleading, or heartfelt praying just waiting for the moment when the Holy Spirit would descend upon him.   Last year,  Bishop Sis gave a homily after the transitional ordination of Ryan. The thing that stood out to me then was this: uncomplicated joy. I still enjoy just saying that phrase. It brings me awe. But, this year it was this: "may you be shepherds that smell like sheep."   Alongside Ryan, there were two other men, Adam Droll and Felix (last name unknown to me), that were ordained this same day. I have had the pleasure of knowing Adam from a distance. Felix I don't know at all. But, I felt hono