My Ode to Disa and Toby

 

Confession: In terms of music, I am sexist. I rarely listen to female music artists. Very rarely. And I don't feel bad about it. I especially do not listen to female Christian pop artists. I do not feel bad about that either.

 

HOWEVER:

 

Please allow me to disclose my newest jam. I truly believe that it is impossible to have a bad day if one starts his or her day off with this song. Not just listening - but rocking out to this song. It is even fun to dance to at night. The following song might single-handedly be the most feel-good morning song I have ever encountered. Special shout out to Fr. Scottt Courtney who introduced me to this musical masterpiece:

 

 

 

 

 

Rather pathetic blog post for being MIA for two months. But I don't feel bad about that either - busy livin' life!

 

 

Claire's Christmas Hip-hop-hip-hop-Hypocrisy

Title reference:

Notice: hypocrisy ahead

Warning: hypocrisy ahead

Alert: hypocrisy ahead

I like fashion. I like clothes. I like shoes. I like purses. And I have a weird, unhealthy obsession with designer luggage (London Fog Oxford II collection...goosebumps!!!). Have I spent hours figuring out what I would wear to Mass, going through three outfits before feeling satisfied with my selection? You bet I have. Have those outfits included skinny jeans, flared jeans, high rise jeans, and the occasional jean shorts in the summertime? I couldn't have told a bigger lie if I answered no.

Changing gears here. Christmas Mass is by far my favorite part of Christmas. The choir has practiced for hours; the homily always seems to be engaging; the Church becomes standing room only; and oh gee- we just happen to partake in the Supper of the Lord! It's always fun to look around at Christmas Mass. There always seems to be an abundance of children, most possessing the sweet innocence of a child awaiting Santa and his reindeer. Generally speaking, church-goers also tend to bring out their nicest attire. Many even get their children new Christmas Mass outfits. Hair is either dolled up or nicely combed, and for many daring moms, the heels make an appearance for the first time since Easter.

Another gear change. This summer was a life-changing one as it was spent teaching Totus Tuus to the youth of the diocese. Part of our Totus Tuus curriculum is instructing kids on the importance of wearing "special" clothes for Mass - to show them that the Sacrament is an extraordinary part of our day. Seeing kids' faces light up upon learning that they get to - not have to - dress up for Jesus was so impactful!

All of these random thoughts bring us to my ponderings after leaving church last night. Why does my attire for Christmas differ from that of an "ordinary" Sunday Mass? Why should Sunday Mass attire differ from that of a weekday Mass? Why do I fail to possess the same childlike excitement I witnessed over dressing up for weekday Mass? Of course- there are many factors that one could rebut with: holiday season, family pictures, family's all home for once, Christmas dinner at Grandma's, etc. etc. None of those beautiful blessings can be denied! But if we stop to think about it - isn't the reason we go to Mass on Christmas to celebrate the birth of our Savior? Yet don't we receive that Savior in the Eucharist every time we go to Mass? Certainly we know that our Lord's Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity don't become "extra special" on Christmas!!!

Now now, I am not saying everyone needs to be wearing a suit and tie to daily Mass. As a busy college student, I know firsthand that is simply not possible! But what I am saying is perhaps we can all ask ourselves: in general, does our Mass attire reflect being in the presence of the Lord? Doesn't God deserve our best efforts year round, not just on Christmas and Easter? Is God's house really the place for pajama pants and mini skirts?

You can see where the hypocrisy plays in; I'll be the first to admit I'm no wardrobe saint. However, I think it's always beneficial for us (or at least myself) to stop and reflect upon the reverence we should show in the house of the God who took on a lowly human form to save us from our sins. No big deal or anything...

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. May God's peace be with you and yours.

Wednesday Snowy Wednesday

Music is a huge part of my life. Correction. *Listening to music is a huge part of my life. I do not discriminate towards genres, as different ones always seem to suit a different mood. Impartiality to particular artists on the other hand (cough, Justin Bieber, Ke$ha, etc.) is another story. Anywho, as I was driving home from work tonight, I was having trouble finding a radio station that would satisfy the day's music craving. Christmas carols just weren't cutting it for once (gasp) and listening to Kenny Chesney croon about sweet summertime is just plain wrong on a day like today. Lo and behold the Midas touch to 96.1 had just begun an all-time favorite, Pride by U2...or more commonly known as “In the Name of Lovvvvve.” The golden find reminded me of an experience I had last week.
 
MUNM 287: History of Rock and Roll. Sounds like a joke right? Especially for someone who grew up on her dad’s classic rock albums. Not quite. After nearly failing the first three exams, I knew it was time to step up my academic game. With some Divine intervention and having studied my brains out for the last two tests, I was able to turn the direction of my grade around. I got more interested in the course material as the decades went on; most recently we studied 80s and 90s. The last question on my final exam was: “What is U2’s hit single Sunday Bloody Sunday about?” I quickly narrowed it down to C) violence in Northern Ireland or D) genocide in Darfur. “How in the name of Bono could I not know the final answer???” I asked myself. My logic wasn’t getting me anywhere. So I resorted to singing the entire song (in my head of course), in efforts to find a clue. Nothing. I took my best guess, and yes I did get it wrong.

Okay so that story was told only to make sense of my chosen title for this post. Instead of making the classic “OMG iT’s SnOwInG!!!!!!!” Facebook status, I figured why not rather take a moment to reflect on this fluffy white stuff falling from the sky. Plus this whole blogging thing is kind of fun…

Isn’t the first snowfall so beautiful? Hold your horses, you Heat Misers out there. First, create this scene:
 

You didn’t have to trudge through the slush and your face isn’t windburnt. Nor did you nearly die from people who think they’re too cool to drive safe in a blizzard. Rather, you’re safe in your warm house. The fire place crackles and the window ledges are built up with snow. The coffee pot is announcing its brew; the Christmas cookies are cooling on the counter. School and work are cancelled, so you get to spend the evening cuddling with your loved ones under fuzzy blankets watching Christmas movies.

It’s cool; I don’t have 98% of that going on right now either. (A house and coffee is about it, to be exact.) It’s a lonely night here at Guad, yet I can't help but watch with joy as the snow falls on the other side of this wall. There is something so pure about snow. It lays a blanket of freshness upon the dying grass (and, if you’re like us, possesses the added benefit of hiding the neighbors’ dog’s poo). It even gives new life to next year’s crops. (Praise God!)

Thought for the day: As we go to bed on this chilly winter night, think about the pure, stainless qualities of the first snowfall. In what ways can we ask God to help purify our own hearts, minds, and bodies?

 

Here’s to a white Christmas. And to the makers of the Banquet pot pie - that’s an apple pie and not a turkey pot pie - cooking in my oven. Stay safe out there.

and so it begins.

Many times I have thought to myself, "I need to start a blog." My username, while stemming from a recent joke with my lovely roommates, is a testament to a core part of who I am. I spend an ample amount of time, perhaps much more than the average person, pondering the wonders of this life - like how we so easily fail to see the "big picture," or God's most holy will for our everyday living. Or how we can get so wrapped up in the small stressors of each day. And how oh so often we have our life planned to the smallest detail - yet nothing seems to work out how we intend...crazy isn't it?! (Insert air of sarcasm, if you did not catch it.)

And so it begins. A random compilation of my day's thoughts, an occasional rant,  a humorous story here and there, and a dash of thought provoking questions. The following is a Clairestotle taste-test, if you will:

Many friends know of the story of how I was kidnapped in kindergarten. It all began when I wandered from my parents sight at my brother's baseball game. They had taken two cars, and thought the other had me - classic mistake. Okay, okay...I wasn't actually kidnapped. But I coin it under such a title, because 1. I did not know the man who took me and 2. he offered me a piece of candy. All the pieces are there. What I don't usually tell is that the man was another parent on my brother's baseball team, and just happened to live two streets away from us. I was back with my parents in an hour and all was well. I have not seen the man since. And unfortunately I did NOT learn the lesson of straying from my parent's side... ("Claire Pohlen...please come to the customer service counter....Claire Pohlen your mother is waiting for you.......")

Fast forward to today- Since late August I have had the incredible opportunity to work for an elected official. A big component of the work is answering calls. Like many areas of profession, the office phones have caller ID. This generally works to my advantage, especially in the case of frequent callers -  there's just enough time to mentally prepare from the sight of the name to the vocal greeting. Today I received a particular call from whose name I immediately recognized - you (probably didn't) guessed it - my "kidnapper." For those of you who know me as Claire the Creeper, no I did not reveal my identity over the phone.

My thought for the day: Isn't it crazy how God puts people in your life, in strange ways nonetheless, and 14 years later you can come in contact with them again? It is marvelling to me how small the world can be, that is, if we take the time to pay attention to the beauty surrounding us.

Goal for the week: wish a stranger a Merry Christmas! Inspiration in case of awkward situations:

(Note: Please stop the video before :43!!! Hurtful and offensive language alert.)