Death and Memories

I received an e-mail today that I see all too often: "[My University] Mourns the Death of a Student". Reading that line filled my head with memories. As an undergrad in my second year, a new friend died suddenly in a car crash while driving back to school after a weekend at home. Nobody found out why she crashed into that tree that day. I was called by the school newspaper because she was a freshman and I was her Resident Assistant. They wanted to know what she was like. What could I say? I stumbled over some words about her beauty that shone through her smile and her love of reading and horses. What I wanted to say is that she was someone that, after meeting once, I had wanted to become close friends with. We had so much in common! We were both bubbly people that wanted to open our hearts to everyone. I thought that we were going to be close friends. I was wrong. I couldn't go to the funeral; I felt stupid for mourning someone I barely knew.

Death has never been too far away. Just a month after graduation, a close friend died. She had had heart surgery as a child and one night her heart just stopped. When I heard the news, my legs fell from underneath me. There was no way that a 21 year-old dancing, singing, loving girl could die.  That night, my friends became family. We had no one to help us through it except each other. Our families were scattered around the country so we turned to each other. It's been over a year since she started a dance party in heaven and I still miss her so much.

My sister was able to go to visit our first home, Virginia, a week or two ago. While there she visited the grave of our sister, Michelle. That's the last memory I have of Virginia, visiting that cemetery. I was four years old, almost five. I felt bad for leaving her all by herself. We had no other family there. Who would visit her? I think I'm the only sibling who has not gone back yet. I want to go see the house we lived in and visit Michelle. I want to place a stone on her place marker to let her know and anyone who sees her that she has not been forgotten. She will always be loved.

Can't Sleep

I can't seem to fall asleep so I thought I might write something in here. First off, I have to point out that I can hear the June bugs flying against the window trying desperately to get in. It's really creeping me out. I hate bugs.

So, I was watching a show where actors in a public place act out a true to life scene to see how people will react. One was done in a town not far from me where a bakery worker refused to serve a woman because she was "dressed like a terrorist" (that is to say, wearing a hijab). Half of the people spoke up against the worker. The other half gave him a thumbs up or told him that he was doing the right thing. Disgusting.

The reason I bring this up is that a more recent episode had a man interviewing to work at a restaurant. The interview was being held at the restaurant at one of the tables on the floor. The actor playing the manager tells the man that he cannot wear his yarmulke to work. The actor playing the interviewee says it is illegal to require him to take off religious garb. (This is very true, by the way) This got me thinking.

Lay Christians are not known for any religious clothing with the possible exception of the mantilla. (Here's the wiki article for a brief overview)A few, such as myself, wear scapulars. Few people notice this little "necklace" that I wear and most that do see it mistakenly call it jewelry. I have seen some whose scapulars are large and ornate with color embroidery of Mary. Mine is small and quite simple. One piece of cloth as a script "M". The other has a small drawing of Mary. I feel that this better embodies the idea behind this scapular. It is to remind me of my devotion to Mary and my aim to be more like her: modest and completely faithful to God. There is no need for everyone to see what I hold in my heart. Anyway, it's difficult to explain why I think wearing this will help me gain favor with Our Lady. I don't know how I would respond if an employer asked me to not wear it. I would feel naked and vulnerable. I would worry what Mary would think of me if it was so easy to convince me to take off this symbol of my love. I think it would feel almost as odd as a married person being required to take off their wedding ring. What it symbolizes is so much more important than any job or any person.

Well, my brain isn't getting anywhere past this. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like the sinners in Milagros de Nuestra Señora. I have this crazy idea that if I love God and Mary and show that through daily prayer that I might have a chance to be forgiven of my sins when it is my turn to be judged. Then again, I might be off my rocker. It's always a little hard to tell with me.

Ironing

    
     I know it probably sounds crazy but I love ironing.  It gives me a chance to think and let my mind go where it needs to go.  The big bonus is that I end up with lovely clothes and a new look on things.  However, there is a down side.  Too much thinking gets me into trouble.  I over analyze and scrutinize every detail of my life.  This never leads me to good conclusions.  I always end up wishing that life was more like a dress.  Rip?  Sew it.  Wrinkle?  Iron it.  Stain?  Wash it.  Too worn to wear?  Toss it and find a new one.  Unfortunately we only have one life whether we like it or not.  It may not seem to fit or we may get tired of it but we are stuck.  (I guess that's the beauty of the idea of reincarnation; there's hope that the next life will fit you better.)  Overall, my life fits me very well.  Every now and then I want to add something to it, a little more color.  But sometimes, oh so rarely, I just want to re-make or maybe tailor a part of it.  But I don't have a big enough sewing machine.

A Long Day

Here's a try at a video blog!

Sooooooo, when I watch this it is going wickedly fast and only shows about 38 seconds. If it's the same for you, don't worry. It wasn't an interesting post anyway. :)

Sinners

Have you ever noticed that we only hear stories about really awful sinners being forgiven for their sins and never about those "smaller" sins?  Peter is forgiven for denying the Son of God three times and then we call him the first pope.  Criminal crucified next to Jesus?  I don't know what he did to get up on that cross but it must have been heinous.  He gets to see Jesus in the kingdom.  The whole crowd that condemned Jesus to death?  "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they are doing."  I know the reason for these stories is obvious:  if God forgives these sinners, surely he will forgive us.  Then again, my Protestant friends believe that all sins are equal.  Yes, they are all bad because they all come from us purposely turning away from God.  I never quite understood what Protestants meant by "equal" though.  So, it's just as bad to lie as to murder?  Well I feel awful for lying but my goodness, it makes murder seem not so bad.  I suppose it's away of pointing out that even what we think is the smallest, least noticeable sin is an affront to God.  Any sin means that I, a person who claims to love God above all, made a conscious decision to ignore his wishes.  The little girl in me can't help but think, "It's like disobeying daddy but a bajillion times worse!"

I don't know what the purpose of this post is.  I was just thinking about sin and such since Easter is coming up.  It's a sad time but really hopeful too.  I hated Good Friday as a kid.  I was thought, "The only good part is that I don't go to school."  I mean, we had three hours of silence in the house. (To commemorate the approximate three hours that Jesus was on the cross)  If you know me, you know that isn't easy.  I tried to pray or read the Bible but three hours was just too long for that.  I always ended up taking a nap.  This didn't help because then I just felt so guilty for not being able to spend a measly three hours with God.  On the other hand, I was able to understand the agony in the garden.  If I felt bad falling asleep for a couple of hours during a time of meditation, how guilty did the disciples feel when the feel asleep when their Lord, teacher, and friend asked them to spend some time with him in his time of need?  Then, next thing they know, he's on a cross dying.  Yet they saw him resurrected and from that joy were able to understand why Jesus had to die and why his message was so important to tell.  Every Good Friday I wait anxiously for Easter Sunday to feel that relief that I too have been forgiven; to know that there is nothing I could do that God won't forgive me for if I am truly sorry.

I was going to tie this into Milagros de Nuestra Señora but I cannot remember how.  All the stories have a main character who is a big sinner but loves Mary and prays to her often.  Just like our mothers here, she will do anything to help her child.  It's impossible to stop loving someone who looks up to you and loves you so innocently.  Does this innocent love for Mary show their ability to be innocent?  Perhaps.  I will have to think more about this.  I should really look to see if the sins in the book are sins of omission or of commission.  I've been intrigued with these two classifications ever since I read the short story Pecado de Omisión (Sin of Omission) by Ana María Matute a few years ago.  Which is worse?  Or do the Protestants have it right?  Are all sins equal?  That answer will have to wait for another day.

 Dalí's painting Cristo de San Juan de la Cruz