i owe it all to strangers

I’ve just carried well over half my weight in luggage across Europe. This is not a joke; I weighed my luggage at the airport: 42 kilograms in total (for the non-European-minded, that is more than 92 pounds). Not including my purse, with which I smuggled in quite a lot of weight. The baggage itinerary looked as follows—Roma to Lucca, changing trains in Pisa; Lucca to Milan, once again changing trains in Pisa; Milan to London by plane; London to Exeter, changing trains in Reading. Exeter to London, changing trains within the city once to arrive closer to the hotel. GAH!

Lucca, my first post-Roma stop, was beautiful. But, I needed a lot of help

getting there with all my stuff from studying abroad for four months.

Thank goodness for easyJet’s no carry-on luggage weight limit, because I definitely utilized it—my carry-on bag weighed 15 kilograms, excluding my giant purse which I had to zip inside of it because of their only-one-carry-on-bag rule. Essentially, I stuck everything heavy I could manage into that duffle and the “light” stuff went to the checked bag. But, that bag was still wildly overweight, and there is a steep charge for every kilo you’re over. Yet, the woman must have felt bad for me, because she didn’t charge me, “oh, it’s okay this time,” she said.

Now, though I traveled alone, a complete packrat fool to all passersby, I did not, because I could not, take my luggage around alone. I was rather dependent on other people. Not just did I enjoy the help of others but also literally relied on their good spirits.

We’re not as independent as we think. And, being independent isn’t as great as it sounds. Relying on others is humbling and allows us to connect with the rest of our human family. Reflecting on this whole luggage and travel experience, I’m reminded of a quote from the Thomas Dubay book I am reading. He says, “who can count the sufferings and sacrifices and smiles of our parents, brothers and sisters, friends and, often enough, mere acquaintances, and at times complete strangers?” Each illustrates human beauty and without such, I wouldn’t have made it through this journey.

So, to:

the Portuguese woman in Lucca who helped me carry my bags through the pedestrian subway,
the girl who pointed out the lift at the Pisa station,
the countless people carrying my bags up the narrow TrenItalia steps,
the man who lifted my bag over suitcases and baby strollers on the way to Milan when I got on the wrong coach and had to walk the length of the train to find my seat,
the guy who let me exit the train before him in England, allowing me to more easily pull my bag out,
Katie, who heroically carried my heavy duffle all the way from her flat to the station without complaint,
the concierge who took my bags off my hands in my London hotel,
and my Dad who is now helping me carry everything around as we finish our travels,

thank you!

procrastination rules

“I am the biggest procrastinator.”

Famous quote. You hear it all the time. If you’re in high school, you hear it every week. If you’re in college, you hear it every day. And, if you’re in college and it’s finals week and you’re in your school’s library, you hear it every hour—at least.

I am not sure who’s won this title of “biggest procrastinator,” though I know I am certainly in the competition. Regardless, given that I’m now finished with my finals and about a week into summer vacation (!) and my home school, William & Mary, holds their last final today (good luck to those still finishing!), I am going hash out the highlights of my procrastination capabilities during this semester’s exams.

My main reason for procrastination was a philosophy paper. It was due Sunday night. By Tuesday, I thought I’d better start, but of course I didn’t. So, I promised I would the next day. But, Wednesday came around, and I had to make that same promise. Then, it became Thursday and then Friday… still no thesis yet. Friday evening I was determined to work, but procrastination came in to play big time when my roommate, Gabby told Catherine and I we had no choice but to go out with her. Now, when French fries from Elliot’s versus and empty word document face off, there is a clear winner.

We love Elliot's!

Procrastination rule #1: even if you have a deadline, a procrastinator never freely chooses to say no to a night out. Summary: Friends are greater than School.

Okay, but let’s backtrack. We covered Friday, but why wasn’t I working on the paper Thursday? Well, on Thursday, I was only thinking about shoes. After my Italian class, instead of heading to the library or the apartment to start writing, I chose to pick up my newly purchased package from Amazon: a pair of gray and pink extra-high top converses. After a purchase like this, I couldn’t just leave them sitting in the box as I abandoned them to my world of writing. So, I laced them up and tried them on and started outfit experimenting. Yep, that was Thursday.

Procrastination rule #2: always have a good outfit ready to study in because you should look good when you do schoolwork. After all, people see you during a test, and only you and your teacher see the grade.

Now, to my excuse as to why there was no progress on my paper before Thursday: I was sitting on our balcony reading Problem Solved, a design book by Michael Johnson. I wanted to finish it before I had to return it to the library when I left Rome. This made finals time not only crunch time when it came to classes, but also crunch time when it came to reading this book.

Procrastination rule #3: if you have something other than a textbook on your bucket list of books to read, the good procrastinator starts reading those books right as a big test day comes up. The point of studying is to learn, so as long as you’re learning something, you aren’t be a bad student, even if it is learning fonts instead of a foreign language.

However, my best method of procrastination this semester was by far climbing the dome of St. Peter’s, because, when you are studying in Rome, this kind of thing is readily available. The climb was more than 500 stairs (I didn’t count, but I believe the sign and my Lonely Planet guidebook), and it was more than worth it. The view of the city is fantastically 360° and after spending the last four months getting familiar with Rome, I could easily point out tourist landmarks, in addition to my apartment and other favorites. After I had spent a few minutes sight-searching, it started to rain, but I waited it out, continuing to soak up all the Roman goodness. Then, the most amazing thing happened, the rain stopped, and a rainbow appeared across St. Peter’s square. How often are there rainbows in Rome? I have no clue, but this one was the first I heard of during my four months, and I was atop St. Peter’s dome to witness it.

Procrastination rule #4: if you happen to be in the Roman vicinity: a visit to St. Peter’s is a must when it comes to procrastination. God will end up rewarding you.

A full rainbow forming over St. Peter's and the city; lucky I was outside and procrastinating instead of inside and writing a paper.

Of course, the Spring 2010 Procrastination List is much longer than those I’ve listed. The exhaustive list includes everything from baking bread to eating dinner out with Tommy and Catherine to Old Bridge gelato runs to visiting nuns and speaking with priests. Yet, despite all this nonsense, I did finish that paper; I am now a junior in college! Wonderful. I’d love to hear how you procrastinated this semester, or a favorite procrastination story from the past—I’m always looking for new ideas, and I still have half of college to get through. Happy summer, everyone!

we are Easter people

“We are Easter people and alleluia is our song” said St. Augustine. This is certainly true, but why are we Easter people?

Simply, we are Easter people because Easter is vital to our humanity. Without Easter, there would be no promise of salvation and no reason for suffering. We’d be here on Earth with no hope at all. It is today that we remember the glorious strength of Christ.

In his Easter message, Pope Benedict XVI said, “Easter is the true salvation of humanity! If Christ—the Lamb of God—had not poured out his blood for us, we would be without hope, our destiny and the destiny of the whole world would inevitably be death.” Christ conquered death. And through this, rescues us from our own mortality. Only when he died and rose again was his purpose fulfilled. Only through death can he give life.

I was blessed enough to attend the Easter Vigil Mass at St. Peter’s last night. In his homily, the Pope spoke of salvation and baptism. He said, “this cure for death, this true medicine of immortality, does exist. It has been found. It is within our reach. In baptism, this medicine is given to us. A new life begins in us, a life that matures in faith and is not extinguished by the death of the old life, but is only then fully revealed.” He continued later by saying, “it is God who clothes us in the garment of light, the garment of life. Paul calls these new ‘garments’ ‘fruits of the spirit,’ and he describes them as follows: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.’ ”

St. Peter's is ready for the Easter Season. This photo is of the square

just after midnight on Easter morning when the Vigil Mass ended.

We all spend a lot of time searching for these fruits, love most especially. But, it is hard to perfect ourselves and truly answer the call to holiness we have each received. However, as Benedict said, this process has already begun through our baptism, we must now accept the graces, deny ourselves in light of God’s will and seek goodness: a daily struggle, of course. But, Benedict explained “this changing of garments is something that continues for the whole of life. What happens in baptism is the beginning of a process that embraces the whole of our life—it makes us fit for eternity, in such a way that, robed in the garment of light of Jesus Christ, we can appear before the face of God and live with him for ever.”

May you remember your baptism and all it means for new life in Christ this Easter season. We are all new in Christ’s victory. Sing Alleluia, for it is sincerely our song. We are Easter people. Buona Pasqua!

Happy Easter; He is Risen. Alleluia!

duty of a moment

I recently read a post on my friend Beth’s blog about how difficult it is to know how much we should invest in others, especially others that may only be in our lives for “a day, an afternoon, an hour.”

Just hours before reading the post, I had found myself in the elevator, heading up to my apartment. The two people sharing the elevator with me were both clearly American students. There was that awkward moment in the beginning of the ride where I thought about saying something, asking a question, striking up conversation, but then thought too hard; the moment of opportunity passed. So, the three of us stood patiently in silence. It was just a short ride up five floors, not worth chatting anyway. A few minutes later I was at my door, unlocking my apartment and setting down my schoolbag.

However, Beth’s point was that people are inherently worth investing time in, even those we do not know. She said, “you invest in them, knowing that you might never see them again.”

Beth’s writing immediately clicked with me. Living can’t be about giving when we know there will be a long term relationship or conversing when we are guaranteed another exchange, or avoiding awkward moments by staying quiet in elevators. Our humanity has got to run deeper in our veins than this comfort-seeking attitude.

It is okay to meet somebody and then “move on to new adventures,” as Beth put it, since we are, in the process, “leaving His fingerprints… even if we forget each other.”

Maybe not every elevator ever time, but sometimes it is our duty of the moment to say something, even something seemingly unimportant, to the person standing next to us.

Don’t let the sun set before you’ve given

somebody else a reason to hope (1 Peter 3:15).

we have the Church Triumphant helping us: St. Anthony, thank you!!

In 9^th grade Christine, my youth minister, gave each high schooler a crucifix blessed by Pope John Paul II. This was about six months before the Pope’s death. I wore the crucifix throughout high school, a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice and the history of man’s redemption.

Summer of 2008, while working at Mar-Lu-Ridge, I lost the crucifix. I spent a lot of time looking for it, but that mountain is huge, and it could have been anywhere! Miles of trails and roads, swimming pools and cabins, it was so unlikely I would find it. And, despite praying for St. Anthony (patron Saint of lost items) to intercede for me, the JPII crucifix didn’t turn up.

I was so upset about it. This wasn’t just some earring or piece of jewelry—it was a religious article, a crucifix. And, after all, it had been blessed by John Paul II! But, my brother, Math, gave me a strong wake up call, telling me that while it was a blessed item, it was still a thing, just a thing. No matter how much it meant to me, the crucifix was not necessary to love God or do His will. If I was getting so upset over losing it, maybe Christ was trying to teach me that the real importance of the crucifix wasn’t in the thing itself. I was so wrapped up in it, the crucifix, that I over looked Him, my God. I had forgotten why I even wore the crucifix.

By the time camp rolled around again the next summer, I had long since learned my lesson. Of course I was (and still am) attached to worldly things and have struggles with materialism, but improvements were in the works. In fact, for my birthday that summer, my parents gave me a new crucifix. Wouldn’t you know, but that crucifix fell off my chain just a few weeks later. I was disappointed, especially since it had been a gift from my parents, but I was in nowhere near the same state I had been the previous summer—no angry crying, no frustration, just a general disappointment at my inability to be cautious. It is just so hard to be careful at camp when you are swimming, jumping, running and going crazy 24/7.

Matt and I pose with our group from week six on top of Shock Rock at camp last summer. With craziness like this, how could I have expected to not lose a crucifix?

A little later that summer, I was waiting for my campers to come out of the camp store when a fellow counselor, Miss Clare, excitedly told me that her camper found my recently lost crucifix! A little boy walked up to me and told me how he had found it in the dirt outside the dining hall. When he opened his hand to show me, I saw that it was indeed my crucifix, but it wasn’t the new one. It was my JPII crucifix from ONE YEAR previous!! I almost couldn’t believe it. St. Anthony had certainly interceded for me, how else would that crucifix have weathered one year on a lonely mountain? Through Christ, St. Anthony had protected that crucifix through icy snowstorms, dirty mud, hungry animals, food trucks, trampling children. I just had to be patient along the way. Once I had learned my lesson, Christ heard my prayers, as well as those of St. Anthony, and let me have my crucifix back.

Now, I am in Rome (see photo to the left of me in the Roman Forum with the JPII crucifix!), one of the greatest places of religious history. Wearing it alongside my Mother Teresa medal, the crucifix went here with me of course. But, this past Thursday, I was late for Mass. When I got off the bus, I had to run about ten minutes to get to church. My jacket was flying open and I remember thinking about how my medals were flying around. However, for some reason I didn’t think to hold them safely as I sprinted. I made it to church a few minutes late, but later that night, when I got to the apartment, I realized I was missing my JPII crucifix. Irritated at my own recklessness and pretty sure that I must have lost it on the way to church, I decided to wait until the morning to look for it. Catherine and I prayed for Mary and St. Anthony’s intercession, and in my anxiety to find the crucifix, I promised St. Anthony a blogpost of the story if I found the crucifix… Still, I kept in mind Math’s advice; it was only a thing.

Friday, my alarm woke me up at 6 a.m. I eagerly shot out of bed and got ready for my search. I’m not sure what my reasoning was, but I planned to walk to the church from my apartment first, then look inside the church, then try to retrace the steps from the church to the bus stop, even though I knew it would be near impossible to do so. I was so hopeful as I started out; St. Anthony wouldn’t let me down. As I walked the route (each passing Roman thought I was insane because I was literally staring at the ground and walking slower than slow), I realized how massive my prayer was. The sidewalk and street were practically the same color as the crucifix, and what I was looking for was little. How was this going to work? Getting a little unsure of St. Anthony and myself, I continued praying and begging, St. Anthony, please, please, please help me look.

I was almost to the church, and still nothing. Momentarily forgetting which way to go, I began to cross the street. I realized my mistake and turned back. But, for some reason I didn’t move in the direction of the church. I have no idea why, but I stepped back and decided to take a second look for the crucifix on the corner I’d just been by. This was the corner I had to turn sharply to get to the church on the way there the night before. After several minutes of search, I figured it wasn’t there. I carried on towards Santa Lucia to see if the crucifix had maybe fallen off inside.

However, as I took a few steps away from the corner, I heard something under my shoe. Before looking, I knew immediately that it must be the crucifix. I tried to keep my expectation at bay, though, just in case. I moved my foot. Lying in the middle of the sidewalk was a tiny, one-inch John Paul II crucifix. My crucifix, no doubt. I clutched it tightly in my fist and holding it to my chest, tears started streaming down my face. This was real.

My crucifix blessed by John Paul II is now safely back onto the chain which it belongs. It is pretty tarnished and beat up, but that is just what happens when you have gone though so much. I owe finding it (both times) to the beautiful intercessions of St. Anthony, the patron Saint of lost items.

You can call it chance or luck, but I know differently. Rome is a huge city with millions (literally) of people, and I covered a huge distance traveling from the bus stop to the Church and then back to the apartment. It could have been anywhere—down a gutter, in the stomach of one of the thousands of dogs here, scooped up by the street cleaners—literally anywhere. It could have been picked up in the wheel of a Vespa and dragged miles across Rome. If I hadn’t doubled back after crossing in the wrong place, I would have never stepped where the crucifix was waiting for me.

St. Anthony, thank you! For all of you whom I asked to pray for the intercession of St. Anthony to find the crucifix, thank you. Christ, for hearing these prayers and granting me this blessing, thank you.

We will just have to see if I lose this crucifix again, (I hope not!) and if St. Anthony will help me out yet another time. However, regardless of what happens to my crucifix from here on out, what I have learned from it will stay with me.

Faith is real. Prayers are real. Saints are real.

I keep this card depicting St. Anthony in my journal. A Priest inside St. Peter's gave it to me just a week or two before I lost the crucifix while dashing through the streets of Rome.

the pickpocket: part ii

Okay. I still can't get over the pickpocket story even though it has been quite a while since the adventure. What's the big idea?

I think my roommate Kat said it best as we discussed the adventure while exiting the metro station when she said, pickpocketing is like cheating, which is just so dishonest. Stealing, cheating, lying—obviously we teach kids that these are wrong, (which they are), but why?

Well, besides dishonesty, the act of stealing disregards the work of a fellow human being. It is a disrespect of both the person and their rights. Of course, I am not talking about necessity, such as stealing to feed yourself and your family; this is something different. I'm talking about this woman on the metro, the teenager who steals the CD from Borders (probably a crappy CD not even worth stealing anyway), or the politician using funds for dishonest things. Stealing isn't just unloving or not loving, but anti-loving because it refuses to recognize another person's worth in a very basic way. Stealing, cheating and lying go against truth and right order, which I, for one, am a fan of.

Maybe we can't give everybody we meet friendship, kind words, the simple smile. But, if we cannot give our fellow human beings anything else, let's at least give them respect through honesty.

the pickpocket: part i

Every Rome guidebook in the universe warns heavily of pickpockets, as they should. No big deal, though—all cities have pickpockets. In this way, Rome is no different than many other major hubs. I'm sure you have heard stories, or told them yourself, about losing money, wallets or passports while traveling to Rome and other places.

However, I thought when you were pickpocketed it would be while you fell asleep on the bus or accidentally left your bags alone for a minute. I didn't think the criminal ever really had an identity. Of course, these are ideal situations for pickpockets, but fortunately for us and unfortunately for them, it doesn't always happen this way...

A few weeks ago, while heading to the opera, my roommates and I witnessed some serious pickpocket activity. We were taking the metro just a few stops, and it was pretty crowded. As we neared our stop, the man standing next to me started yelling at a woman. He was claiming (in English actually, and very loudly) that she had just tried to pickpocket him. The woman, short, middle-aged with mid-length brown hair (so, basically average in almost every way), argued back, "Do you have a photo? Do you have evidence?" Meanwhile, somebody on the metro said over and over "control your pockets." Pretty good advice to all in a crowded place, but obviously the man was controlling his pockets as he didn't let this woman go through with her crime. The man's wife pulled out her phone and indeed tried to take a photo of the pickpocket. The woman was too cunning for this, however and put her hand up to the phone's camera lens as the wife snapped the unsuccessful photo. People on the metro were kind of shuffling around nervously and excitedly; most everyone was staring.

When the metro stopped, Gabi, Kat and I were just trying to get off in time. The man was holding onto the pickpocket's arm; he and his wife followed her off the metro. As we got on the escalators, we watched the scene continue to unravel below. The pickpocketer kept trying to walk away from the couple, while they continued to yell about the attempted crime, saying "We're taking you to the police!" And, wouldn't you know? Luck seemed to be on their side this evening because as they yelled, an undercover cop came by and flashed his ID and badge and asked what was going on.

Who knows what happened next—we were already halfway up the escalators—but from that moment on, I have paid special attention and certainly tried to 'control my pockets.'

My roommates, Catherine, Kat, Gabby and I dressed up for the opera; it was a compilation, so we saw a variety of pieces performed from several famous operas. Adding to the excitement, we saw an attempted pickpocket in route.

hell is real

I have been in Rome for over six weeks. That is a seriously good chunk of time. Noah was stuck on that crowded arc for less time than this! In other words, a lot happens in six weeks. However, despite all this time, I had yet to see the Sistine Chapel. I live 15 minutes away from it but hadn’t bothered to pay the small fee to go to the Vatican Museums to see it.

Lucky for me (and my education and bank account), there is no entrance charge to the Museums on the last Sunday of every month. Since I was off traveling elsewhere in Italy on the last Sunday of January, I figured I’d take advantage of it this time around.

Well, turns out the Vatican Museums are massive. No, really, they are colossal. I spent about an hour in the Sistine Chapel alone. There is no way I could do justice writing about the complete experience. But, I will do my best to write about The Last Judgment, Michelangelo’s fresco on the Chapel wall behind the alter.

The Last Judgement by Michelangelo is painted on the wall of the Sistine Chapel. Even if the story this fresco tells is extreme, it is so important to keep this perspective in mind. Josemaria Escriva wrote, "[t]here is a hell. A trite enough statement, you think. I will repeat it, then: there is a hell! Echo it, at the right moment, in the ears of one friend, and another, and another."

I’m sure you are all learned people and know about this grand piece of artwork. But, in case you have forgotten, Michelangelo painted it between 1536 and 1541. If your math skills are deteriorating with your ability to recall art history: that would be six years that it took him to paint the wall. Click here for some more background information and to see what the Vatican Museum’s website has to say about the piece.

When first looking at the fresco, one of the most notable characteristics is the vibrant colors throughout the whole painting. Also, I just could not look away due to its sheer size! According to trusty Wikipedia, the work is 13.7 by 12 meters. However, attention to detail is not lost in the grandiose piece. Michelangelo had obviously painted every person with painstaking attention to each element of the body, all the way down to the last muscle. And, it isn’t just a sea of people heading to Heaven or Hell; there are elements that reveal stories of the figures. Possibly the most famous is St Bartholomew holding human skin, as he is known to have been flayed, then crucified. Also, as I learned from my audio guide at the museum, many critics say the skin is Michelangelo’s self-portrait.

Still, the part of the painting that kept drawing my eyes was the man pulling up two souls with Rosary beads. The Last Judgment is probably the most terrifying piece of art I’ve seen. It’s the end of the world, literally. God is righteously judging mankind. In life, judging a person is always held off. After all, ‘only God can judge.’ Well, Christ has come again, and there is indeed judgment to go around. As NSFTM says, “hell is real.” Yet, amidst this seriously frightening reality, there is so much beauty in The Last Judgment, because salvation for many is imminently approaching. It is a challenge to the viewer to change how one is living now, since he or she, unlike those represented in the fresco, still has time. Pope Benedict XVI said “the dramatic scene portrayed in this fresco also places before our eyes the risk of man’s definitive fall, a risk that threatens to engulf him whenever he allows himself to be led astray by the forces of evil. So the fresco issues a strong prophetic cry against evil, against every form of injustice.”

The importance of prayer is manifested clearly through the wall of the Chapel while gazing at the Rosary portion of the image. “Certain souls’ salvation depends on my free decision to say yes to God’s plan,” says the National Catholic Register’s “Guide to the Rosary” as one point for meditation. It is not good enough to hold our hope for Heaven inside of us—we must answer our call to apostolate and bring others to Christ just like the man with the Rosary does in The Last Judgment.

A man pulls two people up into salvation using Rosary beads. This, my favorite part of The Last Judgement, reminds mankind of the effectiveness of prayer.

It is madness that it took me so long to make my way to the Vatican Museums. You can bet that I will be making another trip there. Though, I may just be waiting until the last Sunday of the month to do so. Good art is good art; free is still free.

i see snow

Lately, the thoughts occupying most of my brain space all relate to the intense snowfalls back home. For the last week, I’ve been constantly complaining about how badly I wish to be in Virginia for the snow. I mean, over 30 inches, how incredible! Catherine and I kept flipping though Facebook photos of all the wintery fun everybody seems to be having; that certainly didn’t help our negative-Nancy attitudes.

However, to my biggest delight, I woke up this morning to snow in Rome! This is no joke. There were huge, white flakes outside my window. I happily watched the snow all morning while on the bus and in class. I didn’t get to be outside for much of it, but I’ll take what I can get.

Above, snow falls as I walked to the bus stop this morning. This was the first substantial snow in Rome in over 20 years. Below, a nun heads towards St. Peter's in an AP photo from from guardian.uk.co (click here for more professional photos of the Roman snowfall).

Catherine’s 20th birthday is also today! Happy birthday, honey; I’m pretty sure this was God’s gift to you. He knew of our homesick moods and helped lift our spirits ever so subtly.

After all, the last time it even snowed in Rome was in 2005. But really, today’s snow was the biggest in over 20 years, since 1986. Honestly, today’s was baby snow. I can’t really imagine how minor the 2005 snow was. Nevertheless, IT SNOWED IN ROME TODAY, and I am fully satisfied with this fact. And, since God granted me this small blessing, for the next three months I’ll take Rome’s wonder over any Fairfax blizzard. To quote Relient K, “never underestimate my Jesus.” He saved the world already, and with the help of His Father, gives us plenty of little joys, we just have to be looking in the right place.

Above, the snow-covered Lemon Tree

Courtyard at John Cabot. Today Rome

became a mini winter wonderland.

For all those at home, I hope you are enjoying the crazy weather. Please, make a snow angel for me.

Left, snow was actually accumulating in Rome and stuck to cars, trees, buildings, or here, Vespas. It was a sweet birthday surprise for Catherine to wake up to. While I was stuck at class, she was lucky enough to have a snowball fight on the way to the grocery store.

superbowl sunday: go saints & pro-lifers

Even from Rome I watched the Superbowl (until the third quarter when I went home because it was like 3 am Rome time). HOORAY, SAINTS! Unfortunately for me, ESPN was playing. So, I did not get to benefit from the commercials. Even as non-controversial as they ended up, it would have been nice to see them airing in real time.

However, upon researching some of the commercials via YouTube, I smiled to discover THREE pro-life ads: Tim Tebow, Dove and Google.

In regards to the Tebow ad, everyone recognizes how absurd Terry O’Neil, president of the National Organization for Women, sounds saying, “I am blown away at the celebration of the violence against women in it. That’s what comes across to me even more strongly than the anti-abortion message. I myself am a survivor of domestic violence, and I don’t find it charming. I think CBS should be ashamed of itself.” Focus on the Family had a quiet but appropriate approach; O’Neil needs a better complaint.

In regards to the Dove commercial, it’s simultaneously splendid and strange that a soap company recognizes at what stage life begins—conception!—when our own President cannot.

And, lastly, in regards to the Google ad, I am unashamed to admit that this ad tapped into my most girly of emotions, leaving me looking up tickets to Paris and thinking: that’s too cute!!

But, maybe there is something else there that makes the ad so appealing? As Operation Rescue’s Troy Newman writes in a post explaining the ad’s pro-life nature, “the Google ad is borne of a society that is tired of pushing the morality envelope… Boys and girls will fall in love, get married, and have a baby, which is the way God designed it.”

He is entirely correct; the Google ad subtly points to a natural order, something modernity loves ignoring and rearranging. Don’t misunderstand, it isn’t that marriage and babies are the only way to live out one’s calling, just that such familial service is the normal vocation. The connection of marriage yielding families, specifically families with babies, was phenomenally subtle in the ad, but infinitely strong.

Now, I feel like I should Google something in honor of their stellar ad.

& if yr still interested...

to read Catherine's related post about the Tebow ad, click here.

to read Jill Stanek's related post about the Dove & Google ads, click here.

to read Bryan Kemper's related post about the commercials and feminist backlash, click here.

i met our Mother in rome

For those of you who find North American Catholicism underemphasizing the role of the Virgin Mary in the Church, or who are put off by the extreme emphasis of Central and South American Catholicism (Myles, this is you), you need to visit ROMA, the perfect balance of all that is Mary.

Rome is constantly reminding passersby of Mary’s love and faith with the Marian art that is all throughout the city—regardless of being near the Vatican. But, not without still remembering Christ’s sacrifice and His own role as Eternal High Priest. Before I came to Rome, I knew Mary was wonderful and thought I had enough respect for her. I knew who she was; I liked the Rosary; I thought that was enough. But, until I reflect and pray sincerely and consistently on the subject, I will never begin to comprehend the beauty of the Virgin Mary.

Mary humbly lived within a world post the fall in the garden, yet practiced obedience to God in such a way that she was still worthy of that garden. She is the New Eve, whose decision is upon which our salvation rests. It’s about time a lot of Christians turn towards our Mother, who constantly turned towards God. Ad Christum per Mariam—to Christ through Mary. It’s about time I meet Mary, for real, and what better a place than Rome?

Above, Marian Statue in Santa Maria Del Carmelo, a Church about two blocks from St. Peter's Basilica, splendidly reveals to us her importance in the Church as the Queen of Heaven. And below, a Marian statue sits to side of the alter in the Chiesa del Sacro Cuore del Suffragio (Church of the Sacred Heart of Suffering). Mary is almost looking at the tabernacle, keeping our focus on the Eucharist and reminding us of Christ.

But, Mary isn't just in the churches!! Above, two pieces of artwork of Mary and Child are displayed around Rome. The left piece (a mosaic, I believe) is located above an archway which my bus passes through in transit to and from school, and the right (a painting, I believe) is located near the Piazza del Populo. They are both subtle reminders that much of Rome's beauty is religiously founded. Below, an icon of Mary sits with the first lines of the Hail Mary inscribed above it: Hail Mary, full of grace.

Above, a statue of Mary, left, towers above everything in the Piazza Mignanelli, right next to the Piazza di Spagna. This statue is atop of the column of the Immaculate Conception, which was placed here a few years after the Immaculate Conception became dogma. According to Pope Benedict XVI, in describing this statue, "Mary stands high, on guard over Rome" (read a bit more about the column, BXVI & last year's Feast of the Immaculate Conception here). The inscription at the base of the column can be seen in the photo to the right. Below, a statue of Mary stands safely in the corner of a courtyard at my school, John Cabot University, (a secular American university in Rome).

The Memorare

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me.

Amen.