I love hearing others’ stories about how they discovered the joy that that can only be found in the Church; how they found that, in Jesus’ flock, there is a cloud of witnesses—so many Saintly brothers and sisters looking out for us that we are never truly alone!
It was the year that St. Pope John Paul II died, and it was my dear mother who made everything happen.
I remember that he was giving his Easter blessing that night—trying, as he could no longer speak without difficulty—and my mom knew that his time on this earth was almost at an end.
She went to the bedroom and woke up my brother and I; she turned on the television so that we, too, could see him for the last time.
I still thank my mother, to this day, for making sure I had that last holy glimpse of him. The next time I saw him was after he had died, during his funeral.
Soon after this, Mom decided that my brother and I, who had not been baptized in any church yet (because half of our family are LDS, we were to be given the chance to choose for ourselves) needed to be part of a faith. She asked us to pray about it and decide what we wanted to be.
I didn’t have much to think about, really; I remembered feeling protected when my grandmother on my mom’s side would visit with her little saint statues.
These were visual reminders that there was something else. I wanted to know what that other thing was.
We went to church for the first time in our lives. I remember being awed by how big the church was, not just the building, but the sense of joy and unity within.
Not long after that, my brother and I were baptized. We received our First Holy Communion. We were home.
In rough times, when I have thought the Church perhaps too demanding or judged myself as wanting in the Communion of Saints, I’ve felt myself comforted by Mother Mary and the Saints—particularly St. Thérèse and my patron saints, Rose of Lima and Catherine of Siena. I think that St. John Paul II has also been watching over me; after all, he is the first “saint” I knew of before I was baptized, and I did see him alive.
I’m in love with the Church and all it has kept for us over the centuries. I acknowledge that there have been bad Popes, that the human aspect of the Church has led to decisions that were not Christlike. This does not change my love for her.
Until we are all in Heaven, we will all make mistakes.
What’s your story?
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Wondering what the Communion of Saints is? Read this article!
As a writer, what I love most about telling stories is that it allows you to create people. With enough practice, you can make them so lifelike that readers will feel them to be like friends.
This month, I’m wrapping up my trilogy on merpeople. It might have a spin-off trilogy later, but I’m satisfied to tell Rose’s story in three books, or possibly piece them together so that they are one. It depends on what might happen when I edit them.
I want to write tales of everyday Catholics who believe in the Sacraments—and especially in the Real Presence. I want to prove that faith can be captured in fiction writing. The stories will vary, but the main characters will have Catholicism in common.
It won’t all be perfect faith; I will write about the soul whose faith falters with as much care as he who believes. The point of this project is to write about realistic characters; every believer has doubts.
These stories will not be long. I predict they’ll be the length of a short story or a novella. If one does make it to “novel length,” I’ll be thankful, but shorter stories often have the most impact.
Don’t neglect your spiritual reading. – Reading has made many saints.
St. Josemaría Escrivá
As for POV, tense, or outlining, I don’t know what the stories will look like. I’m in collecting mode, gathering stories from people whose grandparents were devout, or those who believed that God would keep His promises and waited on Him until He did.
We all know the tales of St. Thérèse and St. Joan of Arc; there are thousands of known Saints. I hope that the stories I write will remind us that we can also become Saints by living simple lives.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
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If you know someone with a good story about faith, love, vocations, anything that would make for an inspirational short story, please share. I can make stuff up, yes, but real people add life to the narrative.
I am eager to set aside the magic and see life through the eyes of faith. I’m going to learn a lot, writing these stories.
Nothing is stranger and more beautiful than real life, nothing more marvelous than His Sacrifice.
What wonderful majesty! What stupendous condescension! O sublime humility! That the Lord of the whole universe, God and the Son of God, should humble Himself like this under the form of a little bread, for our salvation…In this world I cannot see the Most High Son of God with my own eyes, except for His Most Holy Body and Blood.
St. Francis of Assisi on the Eucharist and Real Presence of Christ
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It has been a rough year for everyone. With loss and anxiety spreading across the globe, it can be difficult to remain optimistic. I’ll be the first to admit I spend more time struggling with emotions than seeing the silver lining.
The year has also offered many opportunities for growth. I’m finally getting around to read books that had been stacked in my room for years. I have discovered new authors and made progress on my trilogy.
Whenever I find myself choking in negativity, I go outside and see a flower. There is still beauty in this world.
As I contemplated the flowers in my garden today, I realized that I can find peace in my own garden to begin with, even if I can’t go much farther; every bloom is a reminder that God is still here and that He loves us.
For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.
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It is easy to lose our grip on faith with all of these challenges set before us; we don’t understand why it’s happening. I have come to see that, in times like these, we need to hold onto our Catholic faith more.
We need to cling to the truth, the thing that never changes, the comfort of Christ’s promise.
I started a new prayer journal. It’s a place where I am raw with my emotions; some days I am more hopeful than others. He understands. In my prayer journal, I’m taking my questions and placing them at His feet.
We are tempted to lose hope with the world as it is now; walking away from God is a sure way to feel weaker, more helpless.
I will choose the little way like St. Therese of Lisieux, finding God in my garden and content to be a little flower, if that is His will. After all, I believe each flower in my garden is beautiful, regardless of size or color.
Seek the truth in prayer, in the Bible, in your garden, in the silence when you can only hear your breathing. Turn to the saints who felt despair and plead their intercession. Seize this opportunity to learn context, history, and find ground that does not wobble beneath you.
I used to be passionate about apologetics, until they bored me. Now, their complexity is a comfort, not a burden. Our faith is woven with fact and history, martyrs, great thinkers, and ordinary people. They also went through trying times; they will guide you through this.
Remember to stay safe and healthy. This can’t last forever, and we will all emerge stronger, knowing what really matters. When it’s harder to walk, take another step. When it’s harder to believe, dig deeper.
My next read is Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI. I am going to try and read at least one spiritual book every two weeks, aside from the Bible, which is daily bread. What are you reading?
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For a month I have been devouring 免费网络节点加速器 by Andrea Wulf. It tells the story of scientist Alexander von Humboldt’s love for science and nature, describing in exciting detail all the countries that he visited and all of his achievements.
I carried it down to South America intending to read it on the plane, but sleep prevented that. Then I brought it back home to the US, where it sat on the bedside table of my aunt’s house in Virginia for three weeks while I hung out with my cousins.
So many distractions emerged that I was not able to get to it until June, and it gripped me at once. Including compelling sketches and visuals of his journeys, it made me somewhat nostalgic for a time when there was more to discover.
Von Humboldt was in love with science, and had a level of concentration for his projects that I envy. After a tour of South America, he spent every free moment writing an account of his journey and discoveries that spanned several books, which I intend to read at some point.
Science has never been one of my fortes, but as I read The Invention of Nature I wondered whether that may have been different if I’d learned hands-on like he did. I found myself itching to dig in the ground with him for an interesting beetle, or to scale mountains that strike awe in me today.
His love for nature might be strong as my love for literature. What I feel is a physical need to always have a book with me; what he felt was a physical need to discover the truth of the world. They’re different subjects, but the passion is similar, and isn’t truth still truth, whether it is in the pages of a book?
Some of the things von Humboldt did make me smile, like when he promised the Empress Alexandra that he would find her diamonds in the Russian mines, and showed up with dozens of them.
He rightly believed slavery to be immoral, and spent his entire life as an abolitionist. While he got along well with American presidents, he constantly lamented that, at the time, it did not seem that slavery would be abolished.
There are three stages of scientific discovery: first people deny it is true; then they deny it is important; finally they credit the wrong person.
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Von Humboldt wrote tirelessly on the broad subjects of nature and science, until he became too old to travel anymore. At this point, heartbreakingly, he began to forget what he himself had said.
Nonetheless, he became a hero, and the world mourned when he died. He had become the trusted voice on science; he inspired who we consider to be the greats of nature writing, like Darwin and John Muir.
I love books about historical figures, and I am grateful that this one exists. More people should know about Alexander von Humboldt and all the things he did to contribute to our knowledge today.
Until recently, I didn’t have a “favorite” genre when it came to books; this past year, I’ve discovered that, aside from the classics, I most enjoy history and historical fiction. I want to read about figures that changed the world, even finding obscure heroes that should be known. Perhaps it stems from an innate desire to someday, somehow, change the world myself.
My focus has therefore shifted to history as well as fantasy, and I’m eager to explore these two genres. Fantasy makes me dream; history makes me grateful– or, in certain situations, humbles me.
I recommend The Invention of Nature because I think more people should love their work in the way hat von Humboldt did. He was the very first person to see many remarkable things that we take for granted today.
Though it might seem as if everything in the world has been discovered, there is always some marvelous thing that needs to be seen for the first time, if not by the world, than by the person looking.
Do you have a historical hero that you think should come to light? Give me history book recommendations; I beg you, I can’t get enough of it!
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Let it be said of me That my words waded Where the waves Devour,
Intent on saving you For a new Day, For it was not Your Hour.
I don’t believe I will meet you; I shall not Know Who you are,
Yet my words, Relentless, found you, Be it near or far.
For those who found my work long aft I’ve faded like a flower,
I hope you found a verse or two, to last another hour.
xx
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Many of my ideas hide out in the garden. I’ve been most inspired to write a poem when watching a butterfly perch on a daisy; the birdsong up in the trees above me rhymes more than anything I’ve been told to study for literature class.
For those of you who, like me, are gardeners as well as writers, here are five plants that naturally repel pests from this most holy of spots. After all, if you keep clean the place where your ideas take root, more will come to you.
(Also, gardening is a fun way to put aside the laptop and get some exercise. Trust me, it works.)
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When you start a garden, you’re curating a little ecosystem. You often don’t realize how many mosquitoes are hiding near that pond where you made wishes years ago, or that the hole in the ground most certainly did not dig itself.
Many people will use chemical insecticides, but we’re writers; we know that nothing in nature is completely evil. Thankfully there are herbs and flowers that will keep these little nuisances from entering the Enchanted Garden at all.
-They come in many sizes and can reach different heights. -They are very easy to grow and, as sun loving plants, no shade no problem! -They’re guaranteed to catch the eye of a casual pedestrian, stealing attention from the neighbor’s garden across the street.
Was that not enough? Here’s another reason to plant marigold: It repels aphids and mosquitoes.
Humans can enjoy these beauties; unwanted pests can’t. Plant them everywhere!
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Christmas in July, anybody? Peppermint brings to mind the Christmas season, with its delicious sweets and those scented candles that usually wind up half-off on December 26.
It’s like her beauty is too much for their evil natures (I know, I contradict myself.)
5- Basil
You might have tasted basil in your food, but pests can’t stand to be near it, let alone taste it.
It repels asparagus beetle and the tomato hornworm. It’s also useful to season your dinner with. Why wouldn’t you plant some in your garden?
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These are only five of the useful plants that repel pests. Get on Google and look it up; you’ll find longer lists with more varieties to choose from, depending on the sort of garden you want to keep.
When the pests are gone, then you can take your laptop and write outside. There won’t be as many mosquitoes to bite you while you’re distracted, and maybe you’ll finally finish that final draft.
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Prologue
Let it be said of me, “She was open, like a book.” & like a book, Some people can’t get much Further than page 1. I am a poem-volume Amidst documents of war; The thrill explorers felt as Their schooners left the shore.
One day I’ll be a Favorite Book Read ‘neath the setting sun. For now, I’ll stay true to myself And whisper my page 1.
Shared with dVerse Open Link Night. Check them out for great poetry!
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5 Books Set In Paris (Part 1)
Before I had the opportunity to visit Paris with my wonderful mom and brother last year, I had a theory. I told myself that, if I found and read enough books set in Paris, I could pretend I had been there before.
With each book that I read set in Paris, I believed that the street names and locations would become more familiar; I could create a sort of map in my head of the City of Light.
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The map was not accurate, though, for many reasons. Here are a few:
You can only experience a city in a novel 全球节点加速器Different authors reflect different versions of themselves in their stories. Victor Hugo and Charles Dickens are not going to paint the same version of Paris.
The books that I read were set in different time periods. We have WWII-era Paris with airplanes and bombs; then we have Emile Zola’s novels, where marketplaces were described in minute, fascinating detail. This is not a bad thing: It means the city has many faces, and through books, we can see them all.
The struggles of the characters change the flavor of Paris. Is the character happy living there, or are they trying to escape? Are they grieving a death or celebrating a marriage? This is the joy of literature.
While I did not create an accurate present-day map of Paris, I still benefited from my collection of books set in France. I felt connected enough with the city to satisfy my inner traveler until the day I made it there. Then I was blessed to see Paris with my own eyes; thanks Mom!
I know there are more books set in Paris and I am still woefully underread as far as the lists go. I have not yet read bestsellers such as The Nightingale or The Lost Girls of Paris; I do plan to read them eventually.
Here are five books I did read and enjoy.
1- Paris by Edward Rutherfurd
Edward Rutherfurd writes novels in which the main characters are cities, rather than people. I have only read one to this day, Paris, a sprawling 800-page glimpse into Paris that covers different time periods. My favorite scenes were those written during the construction of the Eiffel Tower. I enjoyed seeing the city as she grew into what she is now.
2- 全球节点加速器 by Paula McLain
This was a beautiful and heartbreaking fictional account of Ernest Hemingway’s wife, Hadley. It features legends such as F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein. Imagine becoming such a famous author that you’re a character in someone else’s book. I hope if that happens to me one day, I’ll be an interesting one!
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For fans of YA fiction, Anna and the French Kiss simply has to be on this list. I like that it showed Paris from a student’s point of view; Anna is going through different life changes. At the time when I read it, her angst was more relatable. The story is simply lovely.
4- The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George
If you need a reason to give this delightful novel a try, here’s an excerpt from the blurb on the back:
Monsieur Perdu calls himself a literary apothecary. From his floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine, he prescribes novels for the hardships of life. Using his intuitive feel for the exact book a reader needs, Perdu mends broken hearts and souls. The only person he can’t seem to heal through literature is himself; he’s still haunted by heartbreak after his great love disappeared. She left him with only a letter, which he has never opened.
5- Moonlight Over Paris by Jennifer Robson
Okay, here I’m cheating. I read Moonlight Over Paris after my visit to that delightful city, but it was still an enchanting read. It’s apparently part of a series, so I will keep an eye out for the others in that series: I found this third installment in a secondhand bookshop.
Books & Travel
While reading didn’t really take me to Paris as it is now, I can’t deny that reading takes you on an adventure. I met Hadley Hemingway and explored the marketplace of La Halle in The Belly of Paris by Emile Zola (who wrote more books set in those remote parts of the city; he loved it dearly.)
Do you have any suggestions for books set in France? Perhaps you have a favorite that isn’t listed here? I would love to know. Leave a comment and I’ll check it out!
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5 Things My Garden Taught Me
I have spent the past three years gardening, confiding my secrets to the great outdoors. It taught me about far more than the different kinds of flowers and how to care from them.
Through gardening, I realized humans are just complicated plants.
I’ve learned so much truth from Mother Nature and her behavior as the seasons change from warm to cold. She’s taught me about persistence and told me that it’s okay to go slow at first. She also assured me that it’s okay to stop what I’m doing and “sleep” for a while.
Every living thing deserves a break.
Here are five useful lessons I learned out in my garden.
If I must be rooted, plant my feet in rich soil, let my womanly flesh harden to bark, and let my limbs, robust in sleeves of evergreen, keep reaching for the sun.
-Jane Elle Glasser
1- Flowers Don’t Compete
Don’t ask me what the most beautiful flower was that I ever found in my garden; I wouldn’t have a response. Watching them blossom and spread out before me, I can’t say one has smoother petals or a nicer color.
Flowers are beautiful in their own way. They are content with what they are, and pay no heed to their neighbors’ looks.
Humans could learn this trick, too: we would be happy if we stopped competing with our neighbors for things—beauty, riches, fame…
2- Flowers Rest
We humans always feel like we ought to be busy. If we aren’t working on chores or doing extra hours at work, a little voice tells us that we aren’t contributing as citizens.
Flowers don’t grow all year for our delight. They grow when spring comes around because that’s what they were meant to do. When it’s time to die, they don’t protest.
Were we humans not also meant to rest?
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
Philippians 1:21, NASB
3- Flowers Let Go
Some flowers continue to grow back on their own, year after year. This is called reseeding. They drop seeds when their time is through one year. When spring returns a few months later, you’ll find that they have spread out and taken life on their own.
In other words, you could leave certain flowers on their own and you’d still have a garden growing come spring!
However, this would not be possible if they hadn’t first died and dried out. Could we not use this tactic, ourselves? What beauty would result if we allowed a struggle to change us?
4- Flowers are Patient
Can you imagine the patience it must take to be planted underground?
No one knows the benefit of a good rainstorm more than a flower. While the rest of us vanish into our houses, the seedlings outside the window are cheering on the coming thunderstorm.
They know that a bit of rain and bad weather will help them grow lovely and strong.
How do we deal with rain in our everyday lives? Much of the time, we don’t. We pretend certain problems will go away on their own, instead of dealing with them head-on. We miss the opportunity such struggles offer to help us grow.
Let us strive to be like the flower, never passing up an opportunity to grow and thrive. We’ll stand taller and our stems will be stronger, able to surpass any storm that might assault us later.
Conclusion
You might find more wisdom out in your garden than you would in the pages of a book. Being a writer, I would not say this if I didn’t feel it to be true. Their silent lessons prepare us for the long winters of life.
I can’t wait to look back on my history as a gardener and ponder on the things I learned while watering a seedling.
Share this with someone who enjoys gardening!
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A PROVISION FOR LOVE by Heather Chapman
It has been a long while since I read a book that warmed my heart as much as this one did. A Provision for Love by Heather Chapman was too short, in my opinion. This might be a good thing; in many cases, the short books are more potent, finding their places in your heart more easily.
Ivy’s grandmother has written for her a list of qualities to seek in a potential husband; this list includes traits that mean a man isn’t worth Ivy’s time. The list is written in a poetic form, and in some places borders on absurdity, but it was fun watching as Ivy sized up her possible suitors according to the advice that her grandmother had given—and watching Grandmother have fun as she watched the process unfold.
I was satisfied with the ending; I don’t think Ivy’s choice could have been more perfect. The list worked; it led her to a worthy gentleman—or rather, opened her eyes to the gentleman who had been standing in front of her the entire time. I know I will be reading this delightful little book again.
I feared that I would not have a flower garden this year. When we finally returned from Peru, it was verging on too late to plant some of the flowers that I had considered my favorites last year. In the end, I had no reason to fear.
Along with pregrown flowers bought from the store, I have been able to plant cosmos–my favorites–from seed, and I will delight in watching them bloom this year. I found out that some Bachelor Buttons had planted themselves in unlikely places, meaning that it’ll be a bit awkward to mow the lawn.
In a time of high anxiety, nature has not let us down. Birds have come to rest on branches, their song serenading Creation as, sobbing quietly, it heals. I always found that stepping outside was the most effective form of therapy for me.
The garden waited for me patiently; now, I plant daisies and tend to it, loving nature just like it is loving me.
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I would love to say that I am #StayingAtHome, but I found this situation more complicated—and emotionally loaded.
When we first arrived in Peru, we were staying in a hotel. This was where we were when, halfway into our trip, a quarantine and curfew were set; all of the stores closed. Any place that we might have gone to have fun has been shut down for weeks.
After that, we left the hotel to spend the remainder of our trip at our grandmother’s house; there is still nowhere to go except for the grocery store.
It’s hard to focus on creative writing when the media makes you so hyper aware of the bad things happening in the world. We are all feel a little out of place. We are all celebrating small victories, like finishing a chapter or reading a long book.
As we wait out the last three days, hoping the U.S. Government will get us home, I’m allowing myself to feel the negative feelings. They can lead to clarity. They can serve as inspiration. Ultimately, they can guide us.
I hope you’ve found something to keep you sane during this time. We are all seeing the world in a different way; how have these events changed your viewpoint?