Abandonment to Divine Will

I love control. So much so, that a ritual of mine is, after a long shift, to come home and create a series of action plans for my future. I agonize for hours over how many tweets I should be sending out each week and refining the details for the AMGD tour, when today I remembered,

We are holy only as much as we are abandoned to the Divine Will.

Because what I really desire isn't to go on some amazing adoration tour or build a million person twitter following, but to be docile to the movements of the Holy Spirit. To become nothing so that Christ can be everything.

But this is really difficult for me, because it means trusting God with the control.
To be docile to the Spirit means we trust the Spirit.

You see, I agonize over lists and action plans, hoping to find or create the path, because a deep part of me thinks that God's plan can't be trusted or could not possibly be as good as what I have imagined for myself.

And yet our faith compels us to trust Him. A conundrum, I know.

So tonight, as I seek to grow in
Holiness, I am not going to make another list. Instead, I'm going to spend it in prayer. Developing my trust in two things: that God will grant me the desires of my heart so long as I delight myself in him, and when he grants me those desires, it will be by such a showing of his divine grace that in no way will my flesh be able to take the credit. My friends and family will sit in awe and wonder at the great and mighty things God has done for me.

Like Mary I will sing, "because He that is mighty hath done great things to me and Holy is His name.

Good Words Bad Words

"Yea, well damn her. She can go to hell", I overheard one of my co-workers say of a customer who didn't tip.

This phrase is such a common thing we say when angered or frustrated. But when he said it, this time, I heard it differently. I took what he said for face value and my heart asked, 'did he really mean that? Did he realize what he had just said? To damn her. To curse her. To Hell? Does he really want that for her?'

I felt sorry for the woman who had been cursed and I began to pray for her. And as I medicated later on the event, my heart started transforming. Words, I began to realize, are very important. And what we say aloud, should be said vey intentionally.

In the beginning there was the word. When God saw to create the earth, He began by speaking. He SAID, "let there be light".

God spoke. When a person is afflicted by demons, what is it that drives them out but the NAME of Jesus. The spoken WORD. Because words DO mean something. Words are powerful.

In Judaism, to know someone's name is to exhibit a power over them. It isn't just knowledge of the word, but the speaking of it that exerts power. This is why one does not utter the name of God.

This truth is reflected across cultures. Magicians have their incantations, VooDoo witch doctors have their spells, lawyers have their contracts, and the Muslims have the K'oran.

Because, somehow we all have realized that by speaking, we reflect our Creator who also speaks.

The children's song, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me" is a lie. Sticks and stones are physical and they hurt the physical. But words, words can not be felt in the physical sense, but rather, in the spiritual sense. Words don't hurt our bodies, they hurt our souls.

But they can also heal.
They can create.
They can restore and empower.

It is not what goes in the body, but what comes out that defiles it.

What we speak is a reflection of our hearts. What we say is a reflection of our souls. So we must guard our words and only speak what is good and true and edifying to the body of Christ.

Because we are what we speak.

What are you?
Or rather, Who do you want to be?

Holiness burried in Fear

The candles flickered around the monstrance as I struggled to fight off tiredness at my weekly holy hour with Father Tran. I had just finished another day at the record label and I was exhausted. The chronic fatigue had really begun a few weeks prior - when one day I woke up and realized I was not where Christ desired me to be.

For weeks I had been crying over personality profiles and aptitude test, searching for the answer, searching for the job or career that Christ created me for. Searching for the person He desires me to become.

And then, while in the twilight fog of half asleep and half awake, I had a short dream of a man quoting Pope John Paul II, "If you desire to know what is most sacred in this world," the man began, "You have only to look towards what is most profaned."

I understood the meaning of the quote. Pope John Paul II meant to say that the devil was very shrewd and attacks things in order of their sacredness. That which is most sacred is attacked most often and most fiercely.

I was ready to let the image pass and welcome in another dream when the Holy Spirit challenged me, "Now, apply this to yourself."

Surprised, I was instantly filled with adrenaline, I opened my eyes, awake. "Apply this to myself?"

My heart continued to speak, "Your path to holiness and your vocation is part of what is most sacred and holy about you. The devil is doing everything he can to profane it."

More adrenaline. I reached for my notepad. "What is most profaned about me?" I asked myself, trying to respond to the prompt. I wrote down answers. I created a list of what I was afraid of, confused about or insecure about. I chose those things because we as Christians know for certain that fear, confusion and insecurity are NOT of God and always a sign of profanity within us.

And then I made a second list - and this was the most difficult list to create. I wrote a list of my heart's most secret, tender desires. Desires I was afraid to speak and afraid to even give life to by writing them down on paper. I prayed for strength, "Oh Lord," I asked, "reveal to me my heart's desires."

When I was finished, I saw the lists side by side and nearly gasped.

They were mirrors of the other.

For every secret desire of my heart, I had a louder fear, or confusion or corresponding insecurity.
For EVERY secret desire of my heart this was so.

And at last I got it. I realized the path God was asking me to walk down. I knew what He had made me for, and who I was to be at this time in my life. The desires of my heart are from the Lord and I was being asked to bravely pursue them.

And the Devil knew the plan all along, and to keep me from walking down the narrow road, the devil profaned it. He filled me with lies about myself, my gifts and my talents. And I had let the loudness of his lies weaken the cries of my heart until they became weak and tender secrets.

But fear transformed itself in that moment. No longer was fear something that was to be overcome. No longer was it a weight upon me that held me down. Fear became a guide. Because buried underneath my fear was my Sacredness, my holiness.

So, I did what any 23 year old girl would do. In tears, I called my Dad and told him what had happened. He said to take a few days to pray on it and call him back. When I had spent a few days meditating and praying, I called my Dad back and said, "Dad, I want to pursue Christian music. I want to write Christian songs and I want to travel from parish to parish, touring and doing parish missions. I want to work with the Vatican on implementing the New Evangelization in the United States. I want to create opportunities for others to encounter the Holy Spirit because only the Spirit changes hearts"

And my Dad responded, "Tori, in all your years, I have never been more proud of you. Your mother and I love and support you and have been waiting for you to realize this. I am so proud that you've finally embraced your unique path and purpose in life."

As soon as we hung up, I broke down and sobbed. And like glass, one by one, all those fears and anxieties began to shatter and break. Until there was only peace left.

That Friday, I filed my two weeks at the record label job. I began training as a waitress at a restaurant here in Nashville and started recording music again for the first time in 10 years.

The first song recorded was one to give thanks to the Holy Spirit, who is not only the author of all of my songs, but helped me to realize just a little bit more of who I am.

Because the closer I grow to knowing myself, the closer I grow to knowing He who created me.

Jesus, I love you. Our Lady, I love you.
Thank you for this life, Thank you for these abundant gifts and graces.
Thank you for revealing to me my heart's desire.

Because life isn't about being successful, but about being faithful.

El Senor Gecko: Photos from Honduras

A 5 minute walk down the beach would take us to a nearby resort that owned a pet monkey named Jimmy. LH and him became fast friends.

.

Is that a brick oven? You betcha! LH is an incredible fire-starter - and I baked a chocolate cake inside that beauty!

Oh what's that you're doing, Torie? Making tortillas? From scratch?! Flippin' sweet, dude.

We were in Trujillo visiting our missionary friend, SD. Because we're awesome friends, we brought SD some mandolin strings. LH is teaching her how to install them.

This is LH and I with the House 1 girls after Sunday Catechesis. They are the youngest girls at the orphanage and I called them my "Monocitas" or "Little Monkeys" because they were always climbing on top of us. 

From the Honduran dollar menu. This little dish was brought to us while on the bus from La Ceiba to Trujillo. Trust me, it tastes WAY better than it looks. 

The trees in Honduras are ENORMOUS! LH saw this and said, "Stop! I need a picture of this!"

Defeating the author of LIES

“How are the chickens?” my grandmother asked my mom, “What chickens?” she responded, confused. “Victoria’s chickens. She’s told me all about them.”

As a little kid, I told stories – and they were tall tales, big fish. I loved the attention and acting out fascinating adventures that never happened. I didn’t think of it as deceiving people, but rather, as a chance to be noticed and entertain those around me.

Though my parents tried to help me find better ways to channel my creativity, it was one sentence from a person whose name I can’t remember that changed my heart from carefree story teller to scrupulous truth teller.

The Devil is the author of Lies.

Those words chilled me to the core. I lie. The Devil is the author of lies. That means the Devil must somehow be inside me!

As a kid, there was no one in the world I feared more than the Devil, and I wanted nothing to do with him at all. The idea that I was somehow on his team terrified me. I couldn’t let it happen. I would not be on his team. I had to stop telling stories. And so I made a secret challenge to myself, to start by going an entire day without lying, and then the next day without lying and the next day, until I never told any more lies. Ever again.

And though I gave my best effort, I was often met with failure. I remember in fourth grade, sitting in the back of the van on the way to dance class. Instead of focusing on my spelling words I was angry and disappointed with myself. “Can’t you go a day without telling a lie. Just ONE day? Seriously, Victoria. You tried again and you failed. How can you be a good person if you can’t go a whole day without telling a lie?”

I sighed in defeat. Since I had started my personal challenge, I had not successfully made it through one single day, free from embellishments to stories. Free from the white lies of ‘I’m fine’ when I wasn’t. Or free from ‘that looks nice’ when it really didn’t.

And I tried so hard. So many days would go perfectly until I’d say something like, “The talent show? Yea, like there were THOUSANDS of people there,” –then I‘d catch myself, “wait, no, that’s not true, maybe a few hundred, I don’t really know how big the gym is, but it was a lot of people - i mean, it was full.”  Then I’d think in my head, ugh, thousands? You lied again! Now you’ve got to start over. 

And my past as a voracious story-teller didn’t help my cause. While I struggled to redeem my reputation and turn over a new leaf, my family would often joke about my old lies, and instead of seeing the humor, I felt more defeat. I wasn’t going to be a liar. Nobody likes a liar and I wanted people to like me and to trust me.

To this very day, nothing causes me more shame, anxiety and embarrassment than being accused of lying.
However, while updating my social networking profiles this weekend I embellished my job description.  I made myself seem more important than I really was – more of an asset than I really am. And when I realized what I was doing, lying, I immediately deleted the entire text and took a step away from the computer.

Wait.

What was I doing?

Who have I become?

I asked myself, ‘Torie, you are NOT a liar. What motivated you to do that? What prompted you to want to not be honest with your job description and what you actually do for a living?”

“Because I think I am not good enough.”  I answered to myself.

I was repulsed by my own answer. It went against everything I believe and teach to others as true. “NO! LIES! You ARE good enough! You have been made PERFECTLY and with intention and PURPOSE. You are NOT inadequate.”

Because I think I am not good enough

I had lied, not because I wished to deceive the people around me, but because I was trying to deceive myself.
The devil twists and distorts the truth, and when he shows me myself, I see such an ugly person.
But I know that this is not who I am.

Realizing this, I stopped what I was doing and I closed my eyes and prayed, “Christ, reveal to me my true self. The woman that You have called me to become.”

And I saw my sin in a new way.

I saw myself as a great light smothered by a hard, dark, muddy shell. The shell completely covered the light and kept it from expanding outward or being seen by anyone.  The hard, dark shell was my sin.
In the darkness of the outside, I saw myself trying to clean the shell enough to let the light out of its captivity.  There was a lot of work to do, scrubbing and scraping, and there were sometimes glimmers of light revealed, but as soon as it would appear, the mud would drip over it, covering the space and the darkness would return. After struggling for a long time, I began to feel hopeless and defeated.

The Spirit introduce a new image and placed it next to the one of me working on the shell. In the new image, I saw a snake eating its tail. It got smaller and smaller until it became nothing. “This is what you are doing”, the Holy Spirit shared with me.

Then I focused back on the original image of me cleaning the shell. I  felt myself being pulled through the shell and brought inside, to where my small light lived. It was warm and filled with peace. My courage returned.
“Begin here,” The Spirit encouraged, “Grow in my light”

So I began to focus on the light and as it became brighter and stronger, the hard, muddy shell around me began to crack and break off until with a dramatic explosion, the entire shell broke apart and my light was set free and there was no longer any darkness.

And it was freeing.

I met my soul that day, and befriended her.

And I learned how to overcome my sin. Not by focusing on the sin, but by focusing on what is good and true.
So instead of saying, “Do not be a liar” today I say, “Embrace and proclaim the Truth.” Instead of saying, “Don’t overeat today and don’t be lazy!” Today I say, “Glorify God by treating your body as the temple it is and focus on building your endurance to serve the Kingdom.”

We cannot overcome darkness with darkness. We overcome darkness with light.

Whatsoever you do, you do unto Me

I tenderly reached for the box inside the refrigerator and ever so delicately, placed it on the counter.
The youth minister was out of town that Sunday and it was my job to help set up for the LifeTeen Mass. I looked at my phone to check the list she had texted me.

“remember to put 400 hosts in the bowl” one line read.

Very gently, I opened the plastic wrapping that surrounded the small, unleavened pieces of bread. I leaned down and sweetly gazed at the first pack of 100 in my hand and whispered to the bread, “Hey little fellas…guess what?!”

They of course didn’t respond,
“You’re about to become JESUS! Aren’t you so excited?”
Very cautiously, I laid them on the bowl and reached for the second package of 100. Still talking to the bread, ever so softly I continued, “What a journey you have ahead of you – how lucky each of you are! ”
Tori,
A thought interrupted my dialog
Do you see the gentleness with which you treat these hosts?
“Yes,” I respond to the thought.
This is how you are to treat my people - with this same reverence and gentleness as you have treated these hosts. For I live within My people and when you see them, you see Me.
…
Made in the image and likeness of God, the human person is the most Sacred work of creation.
We are Holy. We are One. We are His.

War Amongst Angels: Pro-life Counseling

“Oh, honey, come here maybe I can help..you look so lost"

A young, black woman hearing the voice turned around and walked, blank faced, in a daze to the woman who had called out to her. The black girl had just walked out of The Woman’s Clinic in Nashville for, what we assumed to be, her initial visit.

The sidewalk counselor, Joanne, was surprised. It worked. She’d been standing out there all morning, calling to the women coming to and from, most of them ignored her – one angry mother had let out a stream of profanity about how we ‘needed something better to do with your time’. You could hear the uniform Hispanic voices of Nuestro Madre de Guadeloupe parish praying in a single line across the street.
“What’s your name?” Joanne asked the girl. The woman stood about 5 foot 5 and maybe 180 pounds. A young man who had come with her stood about 10 feet away, watching, but respecting her distance.
“princess” she whispered, quietly.

And they began to talk. Joanne discovered that Princess was 8 weeks pregnant, that the man who was standing near was actually her brother. He was an American soldier who had just gotten back from a tour in Iraq. That morning, at 3 am he had driven from Atlanta to Kentucky to pick up his panicked little sister and drive her to Nashville where she had made an appointment at The Women’s Clinic.
“You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
Joanne called me over and I began to talk with Princess. We discussed adoption. ‘No,’ she said, ‘her cousin had adopted and it didn’t work out so well.’ We talked about a free clinic down the road, I showed her a fetal model of how big her baby was and we talked about heart beats and finger nails and names. ‘you should call him little Prince’ I said, we were laughing now – you know that awkward laughter, where everyone is really actually, very sad, but you just can’t help but laugh. She was a college student and had dreams of being a photographer -

“What are you so afraid of?” I ask, she begins to cry, “My momma, my momma, she’ll be so mad. She’ll kick me out.”

Joann grabbed her hand and looked her dead in the eye. “Now honey, don’t you worry about that. My husband and I, we have a guest room. And you and your baby can stay there as long as you need to get on your feet. You’re not in this alone.”

Princess wipes away her tears, a little more confident, “It’ll be ok,” she tells herself, “Mamma will be OK. I can do this. I can do this.”
Princess is ready to go and we say our goodbyes. I get her email address and promise to keep in touch. And then she drives off with her brother into the warm afternoon.
Just then, a third sidewalk counselor walks up the hill. “Guys,” she said to us, “I had just the strangest dream last night and I, I wanted to share it with you because I realized…just now…that it happened here.”
“What was the dream?” we ask her.
“At the time, I didn’t know it. But my daughter and I, we were on top of a hill and there was this great tornado around us and we were in the middle of it. And there were electric wires just surrounding us and we needed to get to someone, but the cyclone kept stopping us. I woke up, just terrified, at 3 o’clock this morning. And I’ve been thinking about the dream all day. I just realized now that I was right here, on this hill, in front of this clinic. And these wires,” she points up to the electrical wires which do surround the hill that we pray on, “I was surrounded by THOSE wires.”

I feel a cold chill tingle down my spine, “What time did you wake up last night?”

“3 am”

My thoughts raced to a conversation I had just had: “You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
It couldn’t be related. No. Just coincidence. “That dream just terrified me.” The counselor continued. I went back to my post, counseling. Calling out to the women, the men, the workers when another volunteer shows up. He’s a young father who often prays with us. He’s really tired and you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but there he was. “
What a surprise to see you here.” One of the day captains says to him, “You didn’t sign up for today.”
“Yea, I know. I just felt like I needed to be here today.”
Curious, I walk over. “Why?” I ask, suddenly suspicious.
“Um, it was so strange. I just popped out of bed at about 3 am this morning in a cold sweat. The Holy Spirit told me that I needed to start praying for a girl and that I needed to come here today to pray. So I’m here. Exhausted, but I’m here.”

"You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly,“I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”

Joanne  talks to him about Princess and the other counselor shares her dream. Everyone is kind of stunned – this is all so peculiar. 3 hours later, the clinic shut down for the day and we all went home.
Today, It’s been 3 months since I saw Princess drive away in that car with her brother. I did email her with the address she gave me and after about 2 weeks and no response, I sent another email. Every three weeks, I send another and another. Waiting, hoping, for her to write back. To tell us how it ended. What she decided.
“You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”

Let me remind you, this war is real – but the fight isn’t between us and Planned Parenthood. It’s not girl versus baby. It’s as Ephesians 6:12 says, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”
I keep being reminded that there is more to this pro-life fight than we think – and prayer and fasting, just may be a greater weapon that many will ever give it credit for.
And for the Princesses out there: We're  not giving up on you.