Update: Poor little Squidward (who is still actively leaving comments on this blog that are all going to spam) has been successfully flagged by Twitter as engaging in abuse and harassment.  He's still on Twitter, but moved himself here.

As all cowards do, he tried to hide his misogyny by deleting comments, changing his name and his header/profile photo, but I have the receipts.  #SorryNotSorry

Squidward did end up contacting my work, and, God bless him, my boss laughed at how ridiculous his assertions were.  Squidward thought he'd be able to scare me into backing down, but each idiotic move just makes the circle of people who know he's pathetic grow larger.  I also alerted my husband's company who noted, as military vendors, they'd take care of the issue if we'd like, but why waste resources on cowards?

Just the same, my husband suggested I file a police report, so I did.  I said to the officer "I realize you can't do anything about this, but my husband wants a paper trail in case he needs to shoot someone this week."  The officer laughed and said, "Noted."

Chris has been excitedly polishing his newest toy all weekend, but we all know Squidward is impotent; I am wholly unconcerned, especially given how quickly he turned tail and tried to hide the evidence.  Ever since Twitter flagged him, he's only left messages on this blog (and since my settings now send him directly to spam, he's not having much luck there, either).  

Again, ladies, don't fear sad little boys like Squidward.  As soon as you shine a light on the roaches, they scatter.  Keep shining your light and if need be, ask friends to amplify.

Being a woman, dealing with fragile male egos is something I'm well-versed in.  Every now and again, however, the perfect specimen of Incel comes across your feed, and you realize you're about to be treated to a plethora of amusement.

Enter @yona_stan.  For easy reference, we're going to call him Squidward.

My friend had been innocently commenting his experience to a nun on Twitter when Squidward accused him of lying.  I simply pointed out I knew my friend IRL and could vouch for him being a real person who did, in fact, share a true experience.  At this point, I didn't realize I was dealing with a man. Squidward's photo, after all, was the image of a woman and the bio listed info about a female poet.  I shrugged and went about my day.

When I got back, I saw that Squidward had spent hours (HOURS) combing through my old tweets to leave ridiculous comments. I also saw a LITANY of direct messages from this person (I think I'm up to 50 or 60 at this point) calling me a "whore," referencing my divorce, and making all manner of ridiculous statements.  I then saw my e-mail (which is linked to my blog) and was treated to dozens of "blog comments" and several form entries from this same individual.

​See just a sampling:

And here's a screenshot of the wall of DMs he kept sending to me.  I couldn't even tell you how many there are at this point as I'd been ignoring them and sending the e-mails directly to spam.  But it's all the same garbage that always gets sent out by guys who think their opinion matters more than it does.  It's a giant temper-tantrum centered on the fact that he is impotent.  LoL.

THIS was when I realized Squidward was a man.

After all, this is what men with bruised egos do.  Normally, I let the stupidity roll off because I don't typically have the time or desire to engage, but every now and again, I decide to have some fun knocking these weirdos down a few pegs.

I called him out for being a man using a woman (who I later found out was a dead poet) as his profile photo.  Not as if hiding behind a woman's photo was enough to disguise the stench of desperation wafting off him, because women deal with petty little boys like this all the time.  We can recognize clowns without a second glance precisely because each and every one of them resorts to these same idiotic tactics each time their little egos are bruised.  

I spoke to my original friend (a man) and sure enough, Squidward didn't bother sending him any messages.  That's because Squidward knows that friend is a man.  Squidward won't play in the sandbox with men.  Squidward is scared of men. 

​Instead, he chooses to attack women, and he does it like every other incel has ever done in the history of incels: he first attacks her appearance.  When that doesn't work, he attempts to attack her character.  When that doesn't work, he attempts to scare her.

Little Squidward followed the textbook to a tee.  First he started in with the "You're fat" nonsense (grammar, as expected, was wholly incorrect).  He immediately reminded me of a guy from college who, after I turned him down for a date, told me I was fat.  This photo was taken about 10 minutes after I turned the guy down.  I'm legitimately the skinniest person in the picture.  LoL! 

Anyway, what Squidward and other incels like him fail to realize is that attacks like this will never, ever work.  Why?  Because in order for their words to carry any sort of meaning, they, first, have to carry some sort of meaning.

Squidward is meaningless.  He's a random little boy on the internet who can't spell, can't articulate logical arguments, and can't handle a woman.  He presents as someone who legitimately has never had a positive interaction with a woman in his life (must be his winning personality).  Instead of doing what normal people would do and shrug off the thread and move on, he became so enraged that a woman would dare to call him out that he legitimately spent HOURS and HOURS of his life trying to make me care about him.

Then, when even that didn't work, he spent God only knows how many more hours combing through this blog leaving comments and messages pretending to be various people (my brother, a colleague, Chris, Chris' colleague, etc) all in an attempt to scare me because he knew "private details" about my life.

Alas... all it did was make me laugh. 

Squidward Super Sleuth thought he could intimidate me because he can read information I have readily posted?  Ha ha ha ha ha!

My name is no secret.  My husband's name is no secret.  Google exists.  It's not like I run around hiding away under a dead female poet's photo (*ahem*).  So him posting these things in an attempt to make me feel unsafe only made me laugh at how ridiculously obsessed he'd become with "putting me in my place."

Oh... what a sad, sad little Squidward.  

He even went so far as to cite my place of business and title as if it would bully me into fearing him:

For anyone wondering, I work for a homeless shelter.  Great place filled with some amazing people. Pretty sure any one of the people we serve here would have no problem taking out the trash on my behalf.  The folks I am privileged to serve come from places of genuine strength and honor.  They've fought the demons of addiction, mental illness and gang violence (some for years!) before finding themselves again here at our shelter.  

The idea of a sniveling little Squidward showing up to make problems here?  Ha ha ha ha ha - oh Lord above, this guy is funnier than Dave Chappelle!  

My husband, also, had a good laugh at this.  Chris is a very large, muscular and no-nonsense man.  He works hard, trains hard, and takes his role as protector seriously.  He almost got giddy at the idea of someone presenting himself for target practice. LoL!

Alas, we all know what happens with Squidwards.  They vent their hot air into the atmosphere feeling confident that they've squashed another female who dared make him feel like the insignificant loser he is.

​So why am I sharing this?

I'm actually sharing it because of a recent situation springing up with Nicole Arbor and Black Rifle Coffee Company.  I won't bother w/ details, you can see the stupidity for yourselves in the link above.  Suffice to say she spent years in fear of people like Squidward.

I am here to tell you not to.  Squidwards are a dime a dozen and only know how to bark, not bite.  The best way to deal with them is to publicly call them out and laugh at them for the clowns that they are.

Men like this are not men; they are boys parading as men (and in some cases, like dear Squidward, they're not even parading as men but as dead female poets who, had she known him in real life, would have recoiled in horror and likely would've eternalized him as the reviled subject of one of her poems).

Women, do not be afraid of men like this.  Stop allowing them to say and do these abhorrent things.  We so often take the abuse and silently move on, but the best disinfectant for germs like this is sunlight.

Put the little incels on blast, because at the end of the day, they have absolutely no power over you and it drives them bonkers.

PS - since I've already gotten about 100 notifications while putting this blog together, I know you're still visiting, Squidward.  I will doubtful ever think of you again, but I do hope the penthouse you've set up for me in your brain, rent-free, is a nice one!  *Grin* 

I posted this to FB yeterday:

I was happy to see some interest on this post!  Folks were curious to know more about where I got this information, if I had more information, and if I'd be willing to share that information!  I love it!

Since folks who don’t know me are now invested, a little bit about how I come about knowing things like this: I have an insane process when it comes to Sacred Art and stories in the Bible. It’s an insatiable curiosity, really, and it tends to force me down fascinating (if time-consuming) paths.  I don’t stop researching until I feel my curiosity is sated.

My blog is replete with these expeditions, so feel free to peruse.

Anywho, that all being said, this journey started with The Life of Saint Joseph, written by a nun (Sr. Maria Baij).  For the sake of transparency, this book, while stamped with a Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur, is not considered dogma and the faithful are not bound by anything in it.  That said, it started me on the path to researching more about Herod and the Holy Innocents, so bear with me!

The Life of Saint Joseph only briefly mentions Herod and his plans to kill Jesus. I thought it interesting, given how detailed and foot-noted the book is, that this particular event was almost seen as a footnote itself.  It felt wrong, somehow, and I couldn't put my finger on it.  Thus began the quest to learn more...

I sought out a few articles/documentaries on Herod, one of which was, I think, The Real King Herod.  Believe it or not, this documentary actually seems to dispel the notion of the Massacre altogether, but again, bear with me.  Lots of what was raised by this documentary led to me to accounts from Josephus (a 1st century historian who happened to be Jewish).  

Fun fact about Josephus- this dude mentions NOTHING about the Massacre.  Nothing.  This threw me for a loop, because he was Jewish.  You'd think a Jewish historian would mention the slaughter of a bunch of babies, right?  In his defense, he also doesn't mention much about Jesus who, hindsight being 20/20, was pretty darned important, but we'll get to that in a minute...

So I turned to where I always turn when utterly stumped (and I recommend you guys all do the same).  If you ever want to understand something that just doesn't quite make sense in the Bible, talk to a Jew.  Being our Big Brother in Faith, it is impossible to truly understand the Catholic Faith without grasping the Jewish Faith as well. 

So off I went to read what Jewish scholars had to say about the Massacre.  I specifically sought out Messianic Jews (Jews who believe that Jesus is, in fact, the Messiah).  While it was many years ago that I did this, I can pretty much guarantee these are the folks I would've gone to: Rabbis Jacob Neusner, Eugenio (Israel) Zolli and David Rosen as well as Eitan Bar.  I can't definitively say which one of them led me to the following information, but I guarantee it was one of them that put the pieces together for me.

Big piece of the puzzle for me:  Why is Matthew the only one who mentions the Holy Innocents?  According to one of the guys above, it was likely because of who he was and the lens he was writing under.  He was a Jewish tax collector who had access to records detailing births and deaths and would have noted the similarities in Jesus' story and that of Moses (whose peers were also killed off by Pharoah).  He would've been the one most aware of the fact that two Bethlehems existed in the ancient world (they still do, today, actually).  He also would've been privy to the Jewish significance of Bethlehem of Judea being the birthplace of King David and the importance of establishing the lineage of Jesus to King David.

The slaughter of the innocents did not happen all across the Jewish world.  Herod specifically asked the Wise Men WHERE Jesus was to be born, then gathered all his scholars (priests among them) where Scriptures indicated He would be.

This part is important and was something the documentary pointed out to me.  Herod had to ask Jewish scholars what the Scriptures said about the coming Messiah.  Any Jew would have known that Scripture (Micah 5:2, in fact) said that Bethlehem would produce the Eternal Messiah.  Matthew quotes it, himself, in 2:6.  HEROD WASN'T ACTUALLY JEWISH- not ethnically, anyway, which is why he was detested and basically went crazy trying to prove himself a legitimate Jewish king.  He was Arab and so was constantly under threat of losing his authority.

Again, if you watch the documentary, while it poo-poos the idea of him slaughtering the innocents, it absolutely highlights documented cases of him murdering anyone who threatened his power, up to and including his own wives/children.  Augustus Caesar, himself, remarked that it was safer to be Herod's pig than son (a joke because Jews don't eat pork). 

Moving on, the documentary notes (again, with historical evidence) that Herod was well-known to have a silver tongue.  He was very creative at finding palatable solutions to serious problems.  For example, when his BFF Mark Antony (who put him in power) was ousted by Octavian, Herod very quickly made his way to Rome to pledge his loyalty to Octavian.  Did Herod actually care about Octavian?  Of course not.  Herod just wanted to keep his head in-tact, and he used his brilliant strategic mind to ensure he kept it.  He won Octavian to his side and not only was forgiven for being in cahoots with Antony, his lands were EXPANDED.

So it should come as no surprise, then, that Herod was capable of putting together a strategy like the one I listed above that would have people unwittingly participate in the murder of their own children.

Annnnyway, in my continued search for more details on the Massacre of the Holy Innocents, I came upon visions from Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich (I'm linking you to her vision of the Slaughter, so be prepared, ok?).  Again, take this with the same grain of salt as mentioned above with The Life of Saint Joseph.  Emmerich's visions have been collected into a book that contain the Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur noting it free from doctrinal error, but as they are considered private revelations, the faithful can wholly disregard them if they so choose, even with her being a beatified (not yet canonized) saint.  

This was the first explanation of the Slaughter of the Holy Innocents that FINALLY made sense to me and answered the plethora of questions I had surrounding the "how" and "why" of things.  The little bread crumbs that had led me to this point were all necessary, because in order to recognize the validity of Emmerich's vision, I needed to first understand the historical facts behind the players (Herod, Matthew, Josephus and even the historical location of the event).

• Herod was absolutely capable of this, both in strategy and in action.  Dude was a horrible, horrible person.
• Matthew, as a Jewish tax collector and biographer, was cognizant of the biographical information around Jesus and the Scriptural significance of, well, everything, so it makes sense that his gospel would include this information.
• Josephus, the Jewish historian, was writing for a Greek/Roman audience which was largely supportive of infanticide, anyway, so including an event like this (with figures ranging from less than 10 to over 25,000) was probably not considered something of importance at all.  And according to one of the men above (sorry, I don't remember which), Josephus got most of his information about Herod from Herod's own BFF, Nicolaus of Damascus.  It's doubtful Nicholas would have freely offered such information to a historian.
• The visions of Sr. Baij and Blessed ACE are complementary to one another, though neither was aware of the other's existence.

Now obviously, no one is bound to believe ANY of the above information in order to memorialize the Holy Innocents.  We, as faithful Catholics, believe that these events took place because the Church has, through Scripture, Tradition, and Magisterium, confirmed the Holy Innocents existed and were cruelly sacrificed by Herod and his son (also Herod).  HOW they took place was always a bone of contention for me, and after scouring the above resources for what was probably a total of several months, the above summary is what I arrived at.

The only thing my summary differs on is number.  Sr. Baij does not list a number, and Blessed ACE lists two numbers over 700.  Again, taking visions with a grain of salt (especially Blessed ACE's whose numbers are often symbolic in nature), I went back to the historical evidence of populations back in the time of Jesus, and most historians seem to agree the number was anywhere from a few dozen to 200.  Given that both Herods continued to seek out children in the years the Holy Family was in Egypt, I feel confident the actual number is between 200-300 (but hey, I could totally be wrong).

So to those of you wondering how I came about this summation, I hope that clears it up for you!  You're welcome to do a deep dive like I did.  If you do, please report back because I love hearing from folks much smarter than I!

<3

PS - Welcome to the page.

This is a fun story I was reminded of tonight...

I am a serial monogamist.  When I am in a relationship, I am committed and have zero eyes for anyone else.  I do not date around - I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for me.

After my divorce, I spent a solid chunk of time refusing to date.  I needed to sort myself out and I couldn't do that with random men floating around.  When I did decide to start dating again, I had clear boundaries and codified a plan to follow for weeding out would-be suitors.

One of those would-be suitors, Rick, made it far enough through the plan to be considered a "boyfriend."  So when a prospect hits that milestone, all other would-be suitors go straight out the window.  It's just how I work.

So Rick and I had been dating for maybe a month or two when a colleague of mine (let's call him Steve) invited me out to dinner.  He and I worked together- very well, in fact- and I genuinely enjoyed our relationship.  We both had similar senses of humor, and while he was much more reserved than I was, his values aligned with mine and we challenged one another to excel in our given tasks.

Anyway, Steve invited me for dinner one night, and because I already had dinner plans with Rick, I suggested we do lunch, instead.  At the time, it didn't occur to me that Steve wanted to do anything beyond catch up.  I've got plenty of colleagues (male and female alike) who have met up with me for lunch/dinner.  So I put him in the books for lunch knowing I'd still have enough time to get home and dressed for dinner with Rick.

Steve picked the place to eat and it turned out to be a cute Italian place between both our homes.  About halfway through our normal banter, I noticed he was being more shy than usual.  The word "bashful" popped to mind, and I suddenly realized I was on a date.  He then said something that confirmed we were on a date, and...

...I cannot tell you the mortification and guilt I felt in that moment.

Looking back, it's super funny now because I didn't do anything wrong, but Ms. Serial Monogamist was suddenly juggling two men on the same day and I felt like the biggest hypocrite in the universe.

As soon as I realized that lunch wasn't just lunch, I did my best to casually wrap things up as amicably and quickly as possible.  I didn't want to make him feel embarrassed or anything, so I didn't mention my dinner plans with Rick later, but oooooo boy.  There's not enough limoncello in the world to make that experience less awkward.  Ha ha!

I made it clear I wasn't interested in anything more than friendship and to this day, we remain good friends.  He's a great guy and I enjoy his company so much.  He and Rick ended up becoming buddies, too (oddly enough), but I never mentioned what happened to either one of them.  It's not like Steve knew I was dating Rick at the time, and there was exactly zero reason to share with Rick what had erroneously happened before our dinner.  

Anyway, that happened.  Best part?  My current husband has met both Steve and Rick and gets along splendidly with both of them.  God is good, friends.  What could've been a train wreck of embarrassment turned out to be a funny story of how blind I can be sometimes.

​Whomp whomp.  LoL!

About a week ago, a good friend of mine sent me the following message:

So, fun fact... I did NOT know that the Ignatians were celebrating such a big anniversary!  Now I do, so thanks, Rod!  Happy anniversary to any Ignatians who stumble through this blog.

As for the icon- WOW.  There is so much about this icon that I love that I hardly know where to begin.  The name of this icon (as seen on the reverse of the prayer leaflet) is the Missioning of Xavier.  It was written by iconographer Kathy Sievers who clearly knows a thing or two about traditional iconography. 

To give you some context, this icon depicts the moment St. Ignatius sends his good friend, St. Francis Xavier, on an evangelization mission that would take him to India, China, Japan, Malaysia, and even Sri Lanka!  As my friend, Rod, would later point out, he was second only to St. Paul in his missionary endeavors!

​As this icon is about St. Francis, we'll begin with him as our focal point:

He is seated in a boat and is focused intently on the directive being offered to him by Ignatius.  The directive, familiar to any Ignatian (or old school Catholic who had to write "AMDG" atop their homework), is "Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam," meaning "For the Greater Glory of God."  Being so focused on this directive while grasping it in his left hand indicates that Francis accepted this mission both in thought and action.

Rather than coloring his robes strictly black (which, in iconography, indicates death/evil), she chose a very specific blend of colors.  However, before I can discuss the colors of his robe, I must explain the boat dear Francis finds himself in.

Early in Christian art, the Church was symbolized by a boat (the Barque of St. Peter).  That tradition is happily kept alive in this icon.  The mast is a Latin Cross and its white sail (indicating purity) is tied at seven distinct points (5 visible and 2 hidden by Ignatius).  These seven points are, in fact, the Seven Sacraments that the Church inevitably brings with Her wherever She goes.  The gold band encircling the edge of the sail (like a wedding ring!) is reminscent of white chasubles edged in gold for special feasts.  The boat, itself, is painted with notes of deep red and gold.  Red is the color of the Holy Spirit (fire) and blood (sacrifice).  Gold indicates divinity (or sanctity which is why halos are gold).  The red and gold from the boat seep into Francis' cassock which is highlighted in blue, the color of Our Lady. 

[Fun fact:  Ignatians were known to tie blue sashes around their waists for special missions or Marian Feasts ala knights who tied the kerchief of a lover to their armor as they rode into battle.  Ignatians were deeply devoted to Our Lady, so seeing hints of blue in Francis' cassock is an homage to being under her protection (similar to how those who wear the Scapular are considered under Mary's special protection).]

Thus, we see in Francis' cassock all these colors combined and it's almost as if Francis and the boat (Church) are one.  Gah - I just love it!

Moving on to Ignatius, you'll see that he, too, doesn't have a strictly black cassock because in iconography, black is the color of evil/death.  To skirt this, a very deep blue is used with white highlights, hinting at Ignatius' purity.  He is standing above Francis, indicating the clear hierarchy between them.  His hand is raised in blessing while he entrusts the mission to his dear friend.  All around them is a dazzling gold that almost shines through the computer screen (I can only imagine how gorgeous it must be in person).  The gold symbolizes God's Divine blessing over the men, the mission, and the Church.

Finally, there's a little stack of rocks in the bottom righthand corner, just behind Ignatius.  Believe it or not, this little rocky structure is my favorite part of the entire icon!

So Happy 500th Anniversary, St. Ignatius!  I'm sure all the Jesuits who have followed after you these last few centuries appreciate your change of heart!

​And to Rod, as always, thanks for sharing these bits of Sacred Art with me!

The Vatican released the official icon for World Meeting of Families 2022, and it was created by artist (and Jesuit) Fr. Marko Rupnik:

I genuinely hope the Vatican (nor Fr. Rupnik) minds me resharing this icon for this blog!

When I opened the article to see the image firsthand, I was stunned.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. The longer I look at it, the more I love it.

The first thing I noticed was the Blessed Mother clinging to Christ.  Something jarred me, and it took me a moment to realize it was the fact that Our Lady and Jesus shared an eye.  I then drifted over to note that His hands were outstretched- He was Christ Crucified.  Our Lady held a chalice under His Heart as if having caught the blood and water that would, eventually, gush forth from His side.

My eye fell down upon a figure that I immediately recognized as St. Paul.  I was confused, then, because why was St. Paul in an icon depicting family with Jesus and Mary?  Doubling my confusion, I realized that St. Paul was hunched over, pouring wine into another chalice.  But what was that other hand doing?  Oh yes- he was pushing back a gauzy veil.  Wait a second!  Who are those shadowy figures behind the veil?  It was then that I realized I was looking at an image of the Wedding Feast of Cana.  I was STILL super confused as to why St. Paul was there, but at least the image made more sense for why it was chosen for World Meeting of Families 2022.

So I read the article and found out Fr. Rupnik chose to portray the servant from the story as St. Paul due to his revelation in his letter to the Ephesians about the Sacrament of Marriage being a reflection of Christ and His Church.

With that foundation in mind, onward to the analysis!

The icon is made of primarily red and yellow paint, creating a sepia-like effect.  In iconography, yellow is often indicative of joy and blessing.  As the most visible color on the spectrum, yellow tends to be attention-catching (think of a yellow highlighter or common road signs).  Red, on the other hand, is indicative of sacrifice, specifically of blood/life.  The fact that both of these colors are intertwined to create the image underscore the immutable Truth of the Sanctity of Marriage in that it is both an all-encompassing sacrifice (red) and all-encompassing blessing (yellow).​

Here we have the Blessed Mother holding her Son close.  Presumably, this is the moment she tells Him that the newlyweds are out of wine.  As I wrote in a previous entry, Our Lady is our best intercessor ("Mediatrix of All Graces" is one of her titles)  and her actions at the wedding are proof of this.  She recognized the shame that would come upon the family should the guests realize they ran out of wine, so she asked Jesus to step in before He planned to start public ministry.

And of course, because Jesus can't deny the heart that never denies His Will, Jesus begins His public ministry early by miraculously transforming water into wine.

The striking choice of the Blessed Mother sharing an eye with Jesus in the icon is indicative of their unity in thought and will (AKA, the Divine Will). She holds a chalice of wine under Jesus' breast, and since Christ is presented Crucified, the image is meant to harken to the Eucharistic Sacrifice.  Our Lady, with her left hand, embraces Jesus Crucified, and with her right, holds Him in the Eucharist.  The Blessed Mother thus represents the Church.

At first glance, it seems Jesus' garments are painted sloppily, with the red spilling over Mary's fingers.  I believe this was intentional and again highlights the transformative power embedded in the story of the Wedding at Cana: Jesus' stole-like garment is, in fact, the blood-water that spilled out after His Crucifixion.

Again, it is interesting to note that stoles (pre-Vatican II) were associated with the Passion of Christ. Priests wore (and still wear) them hanging open in the front while deacons tie them off to the side (helpful during early liturgies in which they were doing more manual labor). The stole was supposed to remind priests of their vocation to sacrifice themselves for the Church as Christ had done, and so they "yoked" themselves at each Sacrifice of the Mass in which they emulate Jesus, in fact acting in persona Christi.

Jesus is dressed here as a priest, and His stole has transformed into the Eucharistic Sacrifice that is imperceptible to human eyes.

The only reason we are able to see this is due to St. Paul's right hand pushing back the veil, a common theological symbol denoting a separation between Heaven and Earth, sacred and profane.  Speaking of St. Paul...

We see him doubled over not only in an act of service, but humility and reverent awe.  In the foreground, we see the six stone jars filled with water (that has yet to be transformed to wine).  In St. Paul's hands (St. Paul who was an ordained priest!), the water is turned to wine not by his own power, but by the Power of Christ who is with him (just as He is with all priests at Consecration).  This theological truth is hit home by the color of Christ's stole flowing out and covering St. Paul.  *Swoon*

In fact, St. Paul's hand and the jug, together, look like a tongue of fire, right?  And any Catholic school child can tell you that a tongue of fire is a symbol of the Holy Spirit!  St. Paul is afire with the Spirit which is why he's able to "push back the veil" between Heaven and Earth to see with spiritual eyes that which human eyes cannot comprehend- the ineffable mystery of Christ's union with the Church that is hidden within the Sacrament of Marriage.

St. Paul could not have come to that realization alone; the Holy Spirit inspired him to recognize the transformative power of Matrimony.  The husband and wife vow their lives to one another and become "one flesh" just as Christ and His Church are One Body.

Back to the water for a second, because the water is just as much a "character" in this icon as any other.  Water was also important for Jewish weddings due to the practice of mikvah immersion.  Women were expected to immerse themselves three times as a means to cleanse themselves and ask for God's blessing on their marriages.  Sound familiar?  It should, because mikvah prefigured Baptism.

Just as Jesus transformed the water into wine, He also transformed water for ritual cleansing into Baptismal waters that ushered in the New Covenant, sealed by the Eucharistic Sacrifice inherent within the newly blessed wine.

This is all symbolism at this point.  Obviously at the Wedding Feast of Cana, Jesus had not yet endured His Passion nor offered the First Mass on Holy Thursday.  For the purposes of this icon, however, all these themes are tied together so beautifully that it's impossible not to note them.

Finally, we have the newlyweds, still hiding behind the veil, barely perceptible.  The husband has his head bowed while his wife looks lovingly at Jesus who has His Hand raised in blessing over them.

I love this choice because it is a complete inversion of what we experience with our human eyes.  When we attend weddings, we witness the bride and groom share their love and we celebrate their union.  What we don't see is the mystical union of Christ and His Church that is inherent within Sacramental marriages.  In this image, it is the reverse: we see clearly the union of Christ and Church while the married couple is obscured.

(Seriously, people, I'm so giddy over this image I don't know what to do with myself.)

​The table (or altar!) St. Paul is working on is huge, round and almost planet-like.  I can't help but feel as though St. Paul is indicative of priests, bringing Christ and His Church to the whole world.

I love EVERYTHING about this icon.  EVERYTHING.  And the longer I stare at it, the more things I find to love.  I genuinely believe this was divinely inspired, and given the very real battles raging in the Church, specifically regarding the Sanctity of Marriage (I'm looking at YOU, Germany), this icon is prophetic.  It affirms marriage as being between a man and a woman because that bond is indicative of Christ's bond with His Church.   Marriage also reflects the Trinity- God Himself .  Just as the Father and Son are one and Their love brings for the Spirit, so too does the love between husband and wife bring forth children.

This Divine mystery seems to have been forgotten by many, so it is remarkably beautiful to see this truth (and the beauty of the priesthood) highlighted so perfectly.  Mary's importance as Mediatrix and Mother of the Church is also a welcome spotlight.  Finally, just as the Wedding Feast of Cana was a story of transformation and blessing, I hope this icon serves to be just as transformative to all who see it.

Should Fr. Rupnik ever stumble upon my lowly little blog:  Thank you for your vocation and thank you for using your incredible talent to edify us on such deep theological truths.

As you can see from the snippet below, the response was overwhelming:

I am 100% in support of utilizing social media to vent among trusted friends, solicit the "hive mind" to problem solve an issue, or ask for prayers when things seem "too much."

However, I ALSO believe it is important to recognize the many ways God is good to us as a means to bolster others who are struggling.  We need these reminders of God's goodness, so please, don't be afraid to share that joy with others.  Many women on that thread responded that they "needed to hear this" or that they were "glad to be reminded" of God's Faithfulness.  Praising God openly and without shame is salve to the weary soul.

As always, God is good.  Drop your own Praise Posts in the comments or link back to your blogs so I can multiply the joy!

Being only a few weeks PP, I wanted to catalog what I've found helpful while it's all still fresh in my mind.  Most of these items are likely things you already have!

I'll break the list down into 3 categories:  Hospital/Recovery, Breastfeeding, Basics

Hospital/Recovery

These items are those things you'll want both in your hospital bag as well as stocked for use at home.  While most hospitals provide some of these items, the quality is frustratingly low and you don't want to be struggling with ripped mesh panties while you're juggling utter exhaustion, blinding pain, and ah yes... an hours-old newborn.

• Always Boutique Disposable Underwear: If you get nothing else, get these. The mesh panties they give you in the hospital are exactly that... mesh panties.  They expect you to stuff those panties with an oversized maxi-pad that cannot adhere to the mesh panties properly.  There's no guarantee the mesh panties will be sized correctly (because they tend to be "one size fits most").  These disposable panties remove the frustration.  They have built-in pads, can be selected in an appropriate size, and can be easily removed to change into fresh ones.  They're comfortable and can also be worn under normal clothes once you leave the hospital.  I bought two packs, but only ended up needing one.  My PP bleeding was heavy enough to warrant these for about a week, at which point I swapped to my regular maxi-pads.  These disposables discreetly and comfortably wicked away VERY heavy bleeding and large clots.  Get these (or something similar).  You'll be glad you did.
• Comfy PJ Bottoms:  These are the exact pants I purchased not only for use in the 3rd trimester, but for use in the hospital and throughout postpartum recovery.  They are soft, stretchy, lightweight, and ULTRA COMFY.  I'd had a gown for my last birth, but realized quickly that pants are significantly more comfortable overall.  Hospitals can get cold, and who wants to bother with shaving postpartum?  Get the pants.  If you already have a pair, awesome.  I only ended up needing one pair in the hospital, but I purchased two pairs so I could rotate at home.
• Comfortable Bras:  I'm normally a 38DDD, so I *ABHOR* bras without good support.  I also abhor bras that don't have a foam cup.  However, as a postpartum nursing mom, I can't be dealing with wires or molded cups.  I found these super cheap Hanes bras to be TOTAL lifesavers, and since they're so cheap, I was able to purchase four of them (because honey, you're gonna leak, regardless of if you breastfeed or not).  These are super stretchy and the 2X size fits my gargantuan breasts even while they're engorged.  They also stretch to support a breast pump or milk collection device (but more on that in the breastfeeding section).  Your boobs (and sanity) will thank you.  Even if you don't plan to nurse, a comfortable bra like this will help tremendously as your milk dries up.
• Comfortable Robe:  So I have a couple robes, but this one is far and away my favorite.  It's lightweight but warm, the ties are attached so they don't get tangled or lost, it's cute, and it quickly covers me when necessary.  As a newly postpartum mom, I'm topless 99.9% of the time, so having the robe on hand to close over myself is useful.
• Nursing Pillow:  Even if you have zero plans to nurse, having this style pillow is a lifesaver for your back, neck and arms.  Even when I'm not nursing my kids, I like using this as extra support while holding them, and God knows I've used it as a makeshift neck pillow while waiting for them to fall asleep on more than one occasion.
• Slippers or slipper socks:  The ones they give you in the hospital suck, and you will want SOMETHING to wear on your feet as you move about the hospital room.  When you get home, you'll want the same.  I suggest anything with grips since hospital floors are slick and you'll likely be wobbly from pain/medication.

Breastfeeding

• Comfortable bras and a comfy robe.  They deserve to be noted twice.  Get them.
• Lansinoh Gel Pads:  I went through 6 sets (12 pads) in the first two weeks as my nipples adjusted to my champion nurser.  I cannot recommend these bad boys enough.  Be warned, however, that they do NOT protect you against leakage; they're strictly for soothing and protecting your nipples (which will absolutely be screaming bloody murder).  
  • Side note:  If you're new to breastfeeding, give your body 2 weeks to adjust to what I call "fire nips."  I'd like to smack all the "professionals" who swear that the "perfect latch" should cause no pain, but that's utter bull.  Nipples are sensitive and just aren't used to being chowed down on 24/7.  I've nursed three children (oldest for 3 years, middle for 3.5 years and God only knows how long with my newest) and I can confidently tell you that YES, it's going to hurt as your body adjusts.  I'm grateful that I was warned of that pain, because if I'd only heard that "Pain means you're doing it wrong," I would've given up.  Don't give up.  Keep trying and recognize that your nipples need time to adjust.  These pads will help.
• Haakaa Milk Collectors:  These suckers are AWESOME!!!  I have both the ladybug style (linked) and the handheld version.  The ladybug style is superior and truly hands-free.  So far, each time I nurse, I'm able to collect at least an ounce (sometimes two!) from the breast he's not nursing from.  By the end of the day, I can fill a 5oz bottle just from the Haakaa collections!
  • Side note: Because this breastmilk is collected during leaking, it's all foremilk.  For new breastfeeding moms, there's a difference between foremilk and hindmilk.  Foremilk is basically a thirst quencher for babies whereas hindmilk is higher in fat content and nutrients.  I label my Haakaa collection bottles differently than I do my pumped bottles for this purpose.  If I were to try feeding my son just the Haakaa milk, he'd be fussy because he didn't get much of a meal.  Instead, I use Haakaa milk to either top off expressed bottles or as "snacks" between nursings if he seems hungrier than usual.
• Extra Covers for Nursing Pillow:  Again, it's no secret that I prefer the Boppy style nursing pillow.  I've had the same one since my oldest was born 12 years ago (and it's still like-new).  However, whatever style pillow you prefer, get extra covers because leaking, spit up and blow-outs are now your reality.  If you'd rather not spring for slipcovers, just have some extra towels/blankets on hand.  Those work, too!
• Bigger Flanges for Breast Pump:  Pumps come with flanges that fit the median breast, but if the pump is causing you pain, it's possible the flange provided is either too big or too small.  In my case, they were woefully inadequate and I needed to size up.  Letting all you first timers out there know that other sizes do exist and you're not stuck with what comes standard.
  • Breast Pumps are available through insurance providers and I highly recommend getting one.  I have two (one from my last pregnancy and now one from this one).  I plan to keep one at home and bring one to work when I go back.  I can do a whole post on breastfeeding basics, but rest assured that even if you're nursing around the clock (like I am) having a pump to express and build up supply is super useful, especially if you want to go back to work but still provide breastmilk.

Basics
​

• Journal: If you're someone who, like me, likes to jot things down to either help you process things or remember tidbits of information to re-savor later, have a journal (and pen) on hand.
• Hydration: I'm always dehydrated because I hate drinking.  I've always been like that and no, I have no idea why.  Regardless, have yourself a trusty canteen/tumbler/cup with you at all times.  You will need it, because your body is churning through any and all liquids with lightning speed.  Also, hydration aids in healing.  Luckily for me, I was gifted a really cool double walled tumbler with a straw that I love.  It's made staying hydrated much easier.
• Easy, Healthy Snacks: After you leave the hospital, snacks are your best friend. You'll want quick, easy, one-handed, and healthy.  When putting together PP gifts for friends, I tend to include the following:
  • Milk Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans (delicious and good for a quick boost of energy)
  • KIND Bars, LaraBars, and PROBars (for either meals on the go or meals when the idea of cooking anything actually makes you contemplate seppuku)
  • Fruit Leather (healthy, sweet, fast and fun)
• Sleep Mask:  You WILL be napping during the day and will be grateful to block out the sun. The linked ones come in a two pack (for both mom AND dad!)
• Body Wipes:  For when exhaustion takes hold and you just can't physically drag yourself to the shower, these will help.
• Wisps:  Throw these into your diaper bag/purse because I can promise you there WILL be mornings you forget to brush your teeth.

I have personally used these items and have frequently put together postpartum baskets for new parents that include them.  This is not an exhaustive list, nor does it include things like Tucks Wipes, a belly band or peri-bottles (because the hospitals provide those for you). 

We're often so preoccupied with making sure we have everything for the new baby that we neglect to make sure we've got things for ourselves.  Take a little time to focus on you so that you can better focus on baby.

That's why this list focuses on things that the postpartum MOTHER needs most, and are often overlooked.  I hope it helps new moms (and dads looking for things to support moms).  Speaking of dads, I'll be dedicating my next entry to you, because you are frankly the most important part of her postpartum survival kit!  <3  But more on that soon.

Anyhow, if there are things YOU have found personally helpful, please drop a link in the comments.  Would love to learn from other moms what worked for them!

Less than 24 hours after writing that last blog post, I welcomed our newest son to the world.

This beautiful boy is named Dominic, and we're calling him "Nico" for short.

I'd been having contractions for weeks leading up to his delivery, but Tuesday morning, I could tell the real ones had finally arrived.  Since I hadn't slept much the night before, I figured I'd try to lay down for a bit as they ramped up, catching at least a little rest before the marathon I knew laid before me.

I texted Chris my plans and got into bed.  Our cat, Piper, immediately climbed under the covers and nestled against me as a new contraction hit.  I realized then that it was go-time.  I texted Chris again and let him know to start making his way home.  I got plans for Vince and Nate in motion and also messaged my friend, Sam, who generously agreed to come and photograph the festivities.

I hopped into the shower one last time when I noticed bright red blood.  I hadn't had that experience with Vince or Nate, but knowing that every pregnancy is different, I called the OB to give them a heads up that I'd be arriving to the hospital with this symptom as well.  No one could tell me if it was normal or not, so I crossed my fingers and hoped OB triage would have some answers for me.

Chris arrived home in record time.  I was out front talking to our neighbor, Jake, when he came peeling around the corner.  Clearly he was excited to get us to the hospital!

On the way there, my contractions continued to ramp up.  From about 8A-9A, I only had maybe three that whole hour.  From 9-10, they moved to every 10 minutes.  By the time we got to the hospital at 11ish, I was only about 5-6 minutes apart.  It wasn't long before they were coming in waves and I was calling for an epidural.

Funny thing, though, is that I had originally toyed with the idea of not having an epidural at all.  I'd had a failed one with Nate and I'd somehow survived.  Having been warned there could be some problems with Nico, I thought foregoing the epidural would ensure he got here faster.  However, once the contractions really kicked into gear, I worried my heart rate and breathing would cause problems as well, so called for the epidural to calm things down a bit.

Alas, the triage nurse didn't think I was progressing as quickly as I was (mostly because she hadn't set up the monitor properly to check me for contractions).  However, when the second nurse came in and confirmed that I'd doubled my cervical opening within an hour, that should've clued her in to the fact that yes, my body was doing exactly what it was meant to do.

Alas again, I don't think she much cared.  She didn't get me sent up to labor and delivery until I was already ready to pop.  I felt the urge to push while I was sitting in the wheelchair on the elevator, and again when I used the bathroom before getting on the delivery bed.  I think I was in the delivery room for all of 15 minutes before I started shouting that I HAD to push.  Again, the nurse was telling me I'd need to wait for another hour before they'd be able to give me an epidural, but there was absolutely no way that was going to happen.  Having gotten her notes from the triage nurse who clearly didn't know what the heck she was doing, she thought I had way more time than I did.

Chris confronted her as I started shouting that I needed to push.  The man has the patience of a saint, but a line was crossed and I knew he was doing what he could to protect me.  I can't overstate how much I appreciated his advocacy in that moment, because it felt like no one was taking me seriously.  After he confronted her, she immediately called for the anesthesiologist.  I knew it was too late, but it was still nice to know that Chris had forced her to listen.  She dropped the bed, did a quick check on where I was, and from the look on her face, I knew I was right.  I said, "He's crowning, isn't he?"  She didn't bother to answer.

Suddenly there were five people in the room talking to me at once.  I couldn't focus on any of them- I could only feel the overarching need to push.  Chris was to the left of me, and I think Sam was somewhere to the right but had gotten shuffled away by the sudden barrage of nurses.  One of them (I later learned she was the midwife) said, "On the next contraction, you're gonna push!" and I said, "He's coming!"  So I pushed.  She counted to ten and told me to stop pushing, but I couldn't... the next contraction was already starting, so she said, "Okay, push again!" and I did.  His head came out and with one more push, the rest of him followed.  They laid him on my chest and oh... my heart.  

You see, after our wedding in May, Peter's health took a marked turn.  He spent some time in a local hospital that didn't take necessary steps to help properly diagnose him.  After pushing to have him placed in a better hospital, we finally got a diagnosis of cancer which had spread too far to effectively treat.  It was a crushing blow to Peter, his wife, and my husband.  I prayed- hard- for a miracle that Peter might regain some semblance of himself despite the prognosis.  Chris had only just moved home and begun enjoying a closer bond with his dad, and I know he had so many hopes for what to do with the time they now got to share.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  However, God is good and had plans for them.

In early August, I began noticing the tell-tale symptoms of pregnancy.  Sure enough, on August 11th, I saw two pink lines staring up at me from the bathroom sink.  I shared the news with Chris, and we agreed to tell his mother that night.  I also shared the news in my CathSo group (which is why I know the date!).  The next morning, Diana told Peter via a scheduled phone call (due to COVID restrictions, she wasn't allowed in to see him and had to schedule calls with the nurses' station).  About a day or so later, Chris was able to go in-person to see his dad as well.

Unfortunately, on August 22nd, Peter passed away.  Peter was such a darling, generous man; quiet and humble, but so very warm and funny.  I am genuinely sad that he was called home so soon as I know he, too, was happy to finally have his son back home.

A few weeks later, I went in for my first ultrasound.  By my calculations (that included pertinent info like menstrual cycle and possible dates for conception), I should've been 8 weeks along.  However, upon completion of the ultrasound, I was measuring less than 6 weeks, pushing my due date to May 12th.  By that calculation, it wouldn't have been possible for me to test positive on August 11th.  In fact, I wouldn't have even conceived until more than a week later!  Even a super sensitive pregnancy test wouldn't have picked up anything until well after Peter had passed away.

So either the ultrasound was wrong, or God had given us a glimpse into our happily ever after so that Chris could share this joy with his father before he passed away.  The longer that Nico remains nestled within my womb, the more I believe that impossible test was a very special grace granted by God, especially knowing how much that conversation meant to Chris.

God is good.  In all things, God is good.

Please say a prayer for the repose of Peter's soul and a quick and healthy delivery of his grandson, Nico.  C'mon, buddy... we can't wait to finally meet you!

Meet Chris, everyone!

If you've seen some of my catch up entries, you already know we've been friends for more than 15 years.  You know he's handsome, you know he's brilliant, and you know he's great with the boys.

He's also a car enthusiast, knows more about various aircraft than the whole of Boeing, and could probably beat MacGyver at MacGyvering.  *Grin*

He's always been ridiculously intelligent.  His childhood was spent tinkering with everything thanks to his parents who not only encouraged it, but took him to workshops and programs that would actively teach him how!  He's a natural sponge for information and somehow keeps it all pristinely locked away for recall at a moment's notice.

Long before we ever made googly eyes at one another, we engaged in the most entertaining, thought-provoking conversations.  While the rest of the group would drift into debates about comic characters or video games, we'd be off into the weeds discussing politics, social constructs and philosophy.  We've always enjoyed deep conversations with one another, and somehow there's always new fodder for us to attack.

Since pairing ourselves up, we routinely watch programming that grapples with complex problems or interesting historical quandaries.  We'll share current events, play devil's advocate, or listen to interviews with prominent philosophical contemporaries.  I'll ask an outlandish question that forces him to pull the brakes and really yank at the underpinnings of his belief set, and then he'll drop an atom bomb into my lap that has me spiraling off into tangents for DAYS.  Through it all, we learn, we laugh, and we grow in our understanding of the world, each other, and ourselves.

I cannot overstate how much I appreciate that intellectual stimulation.

Then there's his natural propensity to fix everything... he's an engineer by trade, so he is a professional (and highly skilled) problem solver.  Whether the problem is mechanical in nature (fixing a broken appliance) or situational (the kids aren't doing what they're supposed to be doing), he's able to effectively diagnose it and figure out efficient steps that rectify whatever is amiss.

He also relishes his role as step-father.  Since signing on, he's put so much time, thought and energy into parenting them properly.  Just last night, we had a talk about Vincent's unique challenges, specifically stemming from a marked increase in verbal/auditory stimming.  He's invested in helping them both succeed as men, and that manifests in a million different ways. 

Last weekend, he let Nate help him build a shed in the backyard which made Nate swear he was a professional architect.  Ha ha!  He's so patient with them, but isn't afraid to come down hard if necessary to keep them on the straight and narrow.  I take so much comfort in him as their role model for masculinity.  I worried so much for their prospects as adult men before Chris arrived, but now that he's taken on the task of showing them what a true man looks like, I feel genuine relief for their futures.

He is a true partner.  I swear he's more supportive of me than I am 90% of the time!  Whether it's getting off the couch to help me up while I'm a pregnant turtle, offering to pick up groceries to knock something off my to-do list, or sneaking out in the morning (and thus, forgoing the morning coffee and lunch I'd make for him) so I can catch up on sleep, he is outlandishly thoughtful.  Just as I recognize all that he does for our family, he recognizes all I do by not waiting for me to ask for help but offering it when he sees the opportunity present itself.

My favorite is him not complaining when I order out these days because I can't stand to be near an oven.  Uuuuugh, I'm really looking forward to having Nico OUTSIDE of me...

Anyway, I could wax on forever about how wonderful he is.  It still amazes me that we ended up together.  A couple days ago, I was smiling up at him like an idiot and he laughed asking, "What?"

I answered, "If you'd have told me that you and I would end up together, I would've laughed you off a cliff.  I sometimes still can't believe it.  It's insane."  He agreed.  It really is insane when you think about it.  But when has God ever made a lick of sense to us mere mortals?  

That said, I'm genuinely glad God's the One in control, because there's no better husband, father, or friend that I could have chosen for myself and my children.  I always go back to that photo I shared in this entry about God banishing fear:

It still rings 1,000% true.  I was holding a tattered, germ-ridden teddy bear and God was holding Chris behind His back.  Ha ha!  Luckily, I was blessed with the gift of Faith and an unshakable trust in God's desire to care for each of us individually, so I had no real problem handing over the trash bear.  I just had no idea that the prize bear was someone I already loved and respected so much.

So that's Chris in a large nutshell.  At 6'4" and a delicious amount of muscle, a large nutshell is the only one I can fit him in.  *Grin*

Trust God, friends.  I cannot emphasize that enough.  If you learn nothing else from my story, learn this: the same God who cares for the birds in the sky and the flowers of the field cares infinitely more about you than those birds and flowers (​Matt 6:26-30).  He cares so much that He came to dwell among us, taking on our humanity to elevate it to the Divine.  He wants your joy and happiness and cannot be outdone in love.  So love Him, trust Him, and recognize that short-term pain falls away and becomes background noise as the life He created you for unfurls into eternity.

He's got you, friend.  He's got you.