Faith

We are not promised good friends…

Marytown chapel

Marytown chapel

On January 1, 2016, I woke up at 5:something a.m., with my sister, in a dry room with dated bedspreads. We shuffled down the stairs, across the halls, and into the equally parts stunning and inspiring…and…welcoming and home-y chapel in Marytown.

We had gone to bed probably after 1:00 a.m. The new year, after all. There was mass at 11:15 p.m. on NYE, a mass that led us into the new year. The new year found us offering peace after the Lord’s Prayer, receiving the blessed sacrament, singing Christmas songs loudly.

So, why did we wake up so early? Well, we had a Holy Hour at that time. Greetings, wee hours of 2016. Let’s join in prayer.

This is my favorite way to ring in a new year, starting on new year’s eve: talent show that has me in stitches the whole time, dancing with my whole heart, and then praying with my dearest friends and family at mass.

And then, in the too-early hours of the morning, quiet time with Jesus…and my sister somewhere in the chapel, curled up writing in journals.

A few weeks ago I visited a youth group. The so-wise youth leader was talking to a small group of teenage girls, and she was like, “No one is promised good friends. If you find one…really, that’s just a grace.”

I went to bed again, after my Holy Hour.

I woke up “for real” on New Year’s day with all of the goodness and grace of a retreat filled with good messages, beautiful friends, and a heart full of the mercy of God and I thought to myself, “How lucky I am. No one is promised this. If you find it…really, that’s just a grace.”

Welcome, 2016, welcome. Come, let’s do beautiful things.

Some of my friends/ one of my favorite moments of Christmas 2015. We gathered on Christmas Eve morning to sing Christmas carols and pray in front of a local abortion clinic. So strangely contrasted, the horror of abortion against the light of hope. There is always hope. Always.

Some of my friends/ one of my favorite moments of Christmas 2015. We gathered on Christmas Eve morning to sing Christmas carols and pray in front of a local abortion clinic. So strangely contrasted, the horror of abortion against the light of hope. There is always hope. Always.

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