My mother, the Church

"Don't mind us, it's our first time here at Chipoltle"

Ordinarily, I wouldn't be bothered by two old women who couldn't make up their mind regarding what they were going to eat holding up a quickly growing line of hungry people, but this morning I woke up sick with an intense headache and I needed to eat something before I could take some Advil, so as I saw it, these ladies were standing between an almost unbearable pain and the freedom of relief.

I silently smiled and nodded my head as if to say, "Don't waste time talking to me, just make a choice, please."

As soon as the sweet taste of cilantro rice and grilled chicken touched my lips I realized what I'd done.How rude I had been. How that wasn't like me, how I didn't want to be that person. Then I looked down, and saw hanging around my neck my scapular and miraculous medal - so easily and clearly seen. With a sinking feeling I realized that in my rudeness, I wasn't just representing my own self, but to them, I was representing the Church too.

Five minutes passed and the thought continued to eat away at me, so I walked over to their table and apologized. "You were so sweet in line, but I was so concerned about my headache that I'm afraid I may have come across as rude. And I just wanted to apologize for that." She smiled and waved her hand as if sweeping away some invisible dust in the air, "Oh no, honey! Don't even think about it - it's so sweet of you to even come over. Most people never say anything anyways."

As this mission of mine begins to take even more shape (with my single released to radio, finally playing church fairs and college retreats) I'm beginning to look at my behavior more critically. I tell myself that if the mission of ToriesTORIEs is to get people to encounter the Holy Spirit so that their hearts will change, I ask myself, "Has your heart changed" and "Are you living the way you are asking others to live?"

Because if I can't live out the faithful life, how can I expect to help others realize and live it too?  Why expect others to pray if I'm not praying.Others to serve, if I am not first serving? Others to trust if I do not first trust?

And in the end, I realize that, alone, I can't live this life. That without abundant grace I can't do anything. Because on my own, I am rude and impatient and unconsciously hurt the feelings of strangers while in line at Chipoltle.

And yet, as always, Jesus, my teacher, uses this. He reminds me of mother Church and her majesty, the assurance of her teachings. Within her tabernacles is heaven itself, living here on earth. Free for all to come to know and receive. By offering me Christ himself, she offers to me, freely, the graces necessary for this mission. So that while I am ever changing, evolving and devolving, she is constant, secure and true.


I'm not really sure how to end this blog post, so I'll quote my friend Chris who once said, "Before I came into the Church, I felt like I was in a long hallway and there were all of these different doors that led into different rooms. I wasn't really sure what room to walk in and I never felt quite comfortable in any of them. But when I entered the church, I felt like I had turned around and kicked open the front door and now, open to me, was not a room, but the entire world."