I never have time anymore. What happened to it? Where did it go? Why does life after college turn into a big blur... will it ever slow down again...?



I can't wait to marry Joe. There's something so exciting about the idea. A shift so subtle and yet so monumental in my thinking, from the days when I dated Ryan, when the wedding and the babies, those were the goals. The dreams of little girls. The man was necessary but somehow secondary. Whereas, the more time I spend with Joe, the more I realize how much I want to be married to him, how much I look forward to being his wife, forming our home, building our family, and spending the rest of our lives together. The wedding, not as important as the honeymoon; the babies, if it's God's will. The marriage is what I can't wait for. I CAN wait. I can even wait patiently. But it's something I really look forward to.



There's nothing like a dozen red roses delivered to your office to make you realize just how much you're loved.



I have a grey hair. About two inches long, right next to my part. It's been there for a couple of months. I haven't yanked it out... I leave it there as a reminder, almost a status symbol of sorts. I'm an adult. It's the only one I have, that I know about. Someday there will be more... will I let them grow? Will I try to hide them? Will I age gracefully the way I always said I would?



Does long hair look distinguished on older women? My aunt had long hair for a long time, but then she cut it short a couple years ago, and it looked so much nicer... more refined, or something. I almost always have long hair. Every woman I know over the age of forty has short hair. What will our generation do?



I'm getting my hair cut in a few weeks. I think.



If you ask someone for a recommendation, are you then obliged to follow their advice?



I read somewhere a description of the RCIA process as follows:

1. Inquiry period: initial interest

2. Rite of Acceptance: courtship or dating

3. Rite of Election: engagement

4. Easter Vigil: marriage



So as of this past Sunday, I am now "engaged" to the Roman Catholic Church. Favorite part: the bishop (or in our case, the stand-in until we get a new bishop) addresses the sponsors. He talks about all the candidates have done on the journey up until now, and recognizes the desire of the candidates to participate fully in the sacramental life of the church. Then he asks the sponsors to state their opinions publicly: "Do you consider these Candidates ready to receive the sacraments of Confirmation and the Eucharist?" And the sponsors answered, "We do."



Through the entire part, I looked into my sponsor's eyes, and he looked back into mine, and his eyes were filled with tears.



My Confirmation sponsor, in case I haven't mentioned this, is Joe. I chose him for two reasons:

1. Because he has been instrumental in my faith journey for the entire time. He is the one who asked me "Have you prayed about it?" on the night I broke up with Ryan... I have always known him as strong in his faith, and he has always been very open about it... he was right there looking up answers with me when I started questioning United Methodism and Protestantism in general... he never pushed me to convert but supported me 100% when I came to the conclusion on my own. He has been my strongest supporter since the beginning.

2. Because when I am confirmed, my sponsor will stand with me, and place his hand on me while I receive the sacrament. There is no one I'd rather have stand up with me than Joe.



At Confirmation it's also customary to take the name of a saint. I've chosen mine, but I haven't told anyone what it is yet... not really sure why. ;) But for now I'm keeping it to myself.



It's amazing, when I think about it, how far I've come in a year, and especially in eight months.

A year ago, I was just starting to attend church again after having strayed for the better part of three years.

Eleven months ago Joe attended my parents' church for the first time, which really opened up a lot of dialogue for comparison of our respective religions.

Around Easter I had some minor revelations in my blog that I think may have planted some of the first seeds of doubt regarding the Protestant faith I grew up in.

In May I attended my first Catholic Mass with Joe, and was amazed to see how similar it really is to what I grew up with. Joe gave me some papers that day so I could read a little more about the faith.

In July, following days of reading arguments from both sides on a bunch of issues (Eucharist being the biggest one I think) I decided to convert. Decided isn't really the word... it was more like I realized I had to... logically the RCC made more sense than the UMC, and logical was the type of argument I needed at that point.

In August I sat out from Communion at my parents' church and caused a bit of a stir.

I started RCIA in September.

At the beginning of Advent I stood up during Mass for the Rite of Acceptance, the first public admission of my intent to move ahead.

Two days ago I participated in the Rite of Election.

In just under a month I'll have my first Confession.

Less than six weeks from now I will be a fully initiated member of the Roman Catholic Church.



Sometime over the last year God has gone from someone who occasionally had a place in the back of my mind, to someone I think about almost constantly. My faith has become a huge part of my life. It has NEVER been so important to me.



I've noticed a dramatic change in my thinking, in that, when I come across an issue that's unfamiliar to me, where I'm not really sure how I feel about it, I find myself automatically wondering what the Church believes in regards to it.



A week ago, Ash Wednesday, I received the ashes with the rest of the congregation... which means, I got to stand in line with everybody else and head up to the front. This was new for me, because in general, the only time everybody gets up is to receive the Eucharist, and I've been sitting that out for the better part of a year. As I waited in line last week, it hit me that after Easter, I won't be sitting out anymore. That was kind of an interesting feeling.



On Saturday, Joe and I watched "The Passion of Christ". Personally I recommend that all Christians see this movie. I never really gave the Passion (ie Jesus' suffering and death) much thought before. It's just kinda something I knew: "He suffered, died, and was buried. On the third day he rose again..." The movie takes those words "suffered and died" and gives them a meaning. He SUFFERED. He DIED. He went through all of that of his own free will, because I sinned. Wow.



I admit that I couldn't watch the scourging, and I couldn't watch them pounding the nails in.



I don't think the movie was anti-semitic. I think that in order to get that meaning from the film, you'd have to be anti-semitic to begin with.



The most touching scene for me, the one where I actually found tears running down my face, was when Jesus meets his Mother along the way to Golgotha.



I think there's still more I'd like to write in here, but for now, I think going to bed would be the smarter decision, as I'm already falling asleep in my chair. :)