On Husbands Making Chapatis

Today as usual I woke up late (the effect of another late night + pregnancy tiredness) and started off my day with a few tasks around the house, and then coffee and my phone. Joel left for the hospital late morning after kissing me goodbye as usual.

I was going to have my prayer time after that, but decided to cook lunch first and get it over with as it was late. I made dal, roasted eggplant (baingan bartha) and chapati dough, and washed some dishes as the sweat rolled down my body.

Just as I finished, made myself some cold mango milkshake, and was about to sit down in my cool bedroom, Joel returned home. Any other Indian housewife would have immediately jumped back up, started making hot-hot chapatis, and served their husband lunch. However I asked Joel if he’d mind if we sat for a little while as I was tired and had just finished cooking.

So we sat in our bedroom, talked about his morning at the hospital and random bits of news from our social media feeds.

Then I asked him, “Any chance you want to make chapatis? I started making them, but some more have to be made.”

“Sure, is the dough ready?”

“Yes, everything is ready on the counter.”

“You should have told me as soon as I came in, I would have made them.”

So for fifteen minutes as he was in the kitchen making chapatis, I lay in my bed typing out a blog post.

We talk about this a lot - how apparently even nowadays many Indian men think that it’s their wife’s job to serve them constantly and take care of all the household tasks. If they do anything around the house, they’re ‘helping’ her, as if they both didn’t live in the home. We see ourselves as partners, as team mates, and we divide the jobs to be done at home. When I cook, he does dishes, and vice versa. We both clear up after a meal. He cleans the bathrooms, and I sweep and mop (both not as often as we should). We both do laundry. He takes the trash out, and I make the bed. He works at the hospital and I work part time from home, so we both have other work we need to prioritize too. But we are both trying to serve each other by taking care of our home and each other. We're still figuring out all the other extra tasks, and we have a baby on the way, so things will get harder and more complicated in a few months. But we've started well.

Why is this so unusual? I think it's a variety of reasons - men have seen their dads come home, sit down with a newspaper, and their mums remain working non-stop (in and out of the home). Women have seen their mums never ask for anything for themselves, rarely have any leisure time, and assume that's normal. Perhaps they wonder if they're selfish for expecting their husbands to do more. I think many women also LIKE being the queens of their household, and being the only ones who know how to do everything and have everyone else need them. Maybe they also like to have everything done perfectly and their way, and it's just easier if you do it all yourself, right?

Sometimes the men's excuse is "I don't know how to cook." Like women, you too are capable of learning! All it takes is willingness to ask... or even google it!

People joke about men being expected to be thanked and praised every time they do anything in the house. But I think it's good for every member of the house to be acknowledged and appreciated for their acts of service. My mum (and dad) trained us to thank her and say something nice about the food she set before us every day.

Especially for Christians whose God said "I came not to be served but to serve", we are ALL called to be servants of one another... not just women of men. A Christ-centred marriage and family is one where we are willing to look out for each other's needs, but also call each other on when we are not living out our call to serve. This goes for children too.

Parents, please train your sons and daughters to serve, and not just be served. Start early, appreciate their efforts, and teach them to take joy in knowing how to take care of themselves and others, whether by cooking a hot meal, doing dishes, cleaning the kitchen, cleaning bathrooms, or keeping the house and personal stuff organized and neat. It doesn't have to be an unpleasant experience, as long as they feel appreciated. But let them experience the consequences if they just WILL. NOT. TRY. ('If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat.' 2 Thess 3:10)  Husbands and sons, if you don't know where to start, ask your wife/mother to list all the chores she does throughout the day, and then take some off her list. And let's all stop making jokes about how inept and useless men are at home.

If each one takes on this mission of service in the home, there will be far less nagging and resentment, and passive-aggressive behavior, and far more joy in shared familial life.

What has been your experience of who does household chores and cooking at home?

Adventures in Panchgani

Last week my husband and I spent a couple of days in Panchgani, my favourite holiday spot a few hours away from the big cities. It was a special trip with just the two of us as a birthday treat for me – yes, I’m 34! Though a quiet, serene spot in the lap of nature (I sound like a resort commercial), we did not miss out on our share of adventures.

The Prophesying Wife 

I have been known to sleep-talk in the past. I thought I was mostly over it, until our first night in the Panchgani cottage. We had just finished watching a season of Dr. Who, so I was dreaming about saving the universe. In my sleep, I shouted, “Don’t be afraid!”

My husband woke up from a dream where he was worried about the future. “What did you say?”

“Don’t be afraid!”

What I meant to say after that was, “We have found enough traces of human DNA in the TARDIS to reboot the universe,” but apparently that was too complicated for my sleep-addled brain to enunciate. I did half-wake up and realized I was sleep-talking, so then I also tried to say, “That’s good advice no matter the occasion,” but according to my husband, I didn’t actually say those words aloud either.

Anyway, isn’t he privileged to have a wife who gives him solid biblical advice to respond to his nightmares in the middle of the night?

The Drunk Local 

As we walked home from town one evening, we saw an obviously drunk old man weaving his way down the road. The mountain roads were narrow, and with vehicles speeding along them, so we were a little alarmed. “Jesus, please keep this man safe,” said my husband aloud. The next moment a young man on a bike stopped by the drunk man. “Thank you, Jesus, that was quick.”

My relief dissipated in a moment as the old man got on to the back of the bike, and promptly fell off as the bike started moving. The younger man couldn’t have been a relative because he seemed amused. “How much have you drunk?” he said to the man in Marathi. My husband starting crossing the road to help them, and called out in Marathi, “Hey grandfather, hold on tight.” He got on again, clutched the rider tight, and they rode off as I prayed, and my husband’s concern turned to uncontrollable chuckles at the comic sight. I guess the town drunk is funny to everyone else, but probably not to his family.

The Angry Pregnant Lady 

Just next to the cottage where we were staying is a campsite run by my mum’s cousin. We happened to be there at a time when a big group of young people were there for a camp. We passed them playing team building games in a field.

The first afternoon I was exhausted, and fell asleep in the bedroom with the curtains on the big glass windows open. My sleep was deep, but somehow loud voices intruded. Deep in my subconscious I realized someone was intruding, but I couldn’t wake myself up to deal with it. Instead I dreamed that we were sharing the house with a honeymooning couple with all their friends and family dropping in to visit.

In my dream, I kept getting more and more outraged as they overstepped boundaries, used our private kitchen, and talked REALLY loudly and partied in the veranda. I woke up to realize there were really three young people who were not just outside the house talking, but had actually taken over a table in the veranda and were working on a poster for their camp, while chatting away… EVEN THOUGH THEY HAD SEEN ME SLEEPING IN THE BEDROOM.

I’m not typically an angry kind of person, but the righteous anger of my dream took hold of me, and I stalked out and informed them that they were in a private area and that they needed to stay in the campsite area. I’m polite even when I’m angry, but I think the message got across and they soon left. I was fuming! Was it the pregnancy hormones? Oh yes, *I* was the angry pregnant lady. I feel like I would have been even more impressively scary if I had been visibly and heavily pregnant while telling them off.

 A little while later, I heard someone announcing to the kids in the next field, “Please don’t make a noise, there are people staying in the house and they will shout at you.” You bet they will! Grr. In spite of that, a guy and a girl showed up that evening taking selfies in front of the house and seemed surprised when I asked them to take their stuff (that they had deposited again in our veranda) and leave. “Just one more picture.” Some people have no concept of boundaries.

Related Stories 

The Tale of a City Girl in Nature

The Delicate Touches of Love

On Being a Bookworm

Cousins and siblings and me

My four siblings and I grew up without cable TV, and with our noses in books at every possible moment - when we were supposed to be studying (hidden behind our study books of course, or smuggled into the bathroom for long 'bathroom breaks'), during family holidays in Panchgani, during class in school (did our teachers know and just ignore it as not worth caring about?), during our larger family parties where no one would notice one or two grandchildren missing (of course one carries a storybook to parties), and so on.

My parents never had to figure out what to give us for Christmas and birthdays, we were usually into one particular series of Enid Blytons and were perfectly satisfied to receive another book to add to the collection (not to mention, as soon as we finished our own books, we would exchange with our siblings).

My parents were bookworms themselves, and most afternoon rest time and late nights before bed, they would pick up their current book and read a few more pages. They had much more discipline than the rest of us though, who would usually not stop reading until we finished our book, even if it meant reading by torchlight or cell phone light so we wouldn't get in trouble if my parents saw the light on in the early hours of the morning.

Yes, I had a book at a picnic

I am currently rereading Little Women in anticipation of the movie coming out in a few weeks. As I read, I am reminded of how the books we read and grow up reading form us and become a part of us. The characters in Little Women not only seem like old friends I know well, but as I read about Meg's efforts at homemaking, I was reminded that keeping a home clean and beautiful is a worthwhile gift to give my family (well, my husband at the moment), and I actually left my book to go and complete my many half-done household chores. As I read about Jo going 'into a vortex', as she started writing her stories, I remembered my dear blog and the joy I get out of my scribbles, and out of sharing them with others.

I have often bemoaned my (lack of an) education in convent school - I feel like I wasted many years of my life parroting facts, daydreaming and learning how to be invisible. What I should  have been doing was discovering the world, how big and interesting it was, and how fascinating learning could be. But what I missed out in school, I gained through my storybooks. I learned about the world through those books, I learned what history felt like through fiction and non-fiction set in different times and places and ages. For the general knowledge I have now, the familiarity with different cultures, the vocabulary and the writing skill I possess, I credit the books I voraciously consumed through my life.

Of course I chose 'Books' as my topic for Topic Week during my teacher's training course

But I have also come to the conclusion that being a bookworm is not a permanent identity, and it can (and has) been easily stolen by the temptations of the Internet. I have not been a bookworm for several years now, choosing instead to consume the written word on Facebook and Twitter. What a waste of time most of that has been. I recently asked a friend to change my Twitter password, and my new year's resolution has been to read more books, which has been happening aided by spotty Internet (a mixed blessing). If I want to grow and learn, I have to give up something to get something. If I want my kids to love to read as I did, they'd better not see me stuck to my phone.

I have also realized that not all books are worth consuming, and that I need to be a little picky about how I spend my reading time. When I was young I consumed every book I could get my hands on. I must have read every book I found in my home (we had a big bookshelf filled with books), not just the children's books. In the process, I came across some thrillers with graphic violent and sexual scenes that scarred my mind. It's hard to remove mental pictures once you see them. I also spent a few years reading sexually explicit romance novels, a sinful habit that was addictive and hard to break but thanks be to God was finally able to. I wish I had never come across some of those books, and will do my best to make sure I read every book in my house because if my kids are anything like me, they will have the same struggles.

The solution is not to ban books, but to fill your home with good books, books worth reading, books that inform and enlighten and illuminate, books that lift you up out of yourself, or give you a glimpse of the good, the true and the beautiful, books that make you want to fight injustice and be a better person and love and live without fear.

Reading one of The Chronicles of Narnia to my nieces a few years ago

I also wish I had been exposed to more Indian authors and storybooks, because my knowledge of my own country is lacking. I know more about life in Nazi Germany than I know about the Indian freedom struggle. I wish there were more easily available and readable books about the normal lives of different types of Indians of different times. It is such a diverse country, and there is so much to learn. I feel like I've learned more about lives of Indians by following Humans of Bombay than I have in years of reading books. I'm sure there are more books, I just have to be more intentional about seeking them out and buying them. Reading Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie was quite the eye-opener.

As a teenager and as an adult, the Catholic and Christian books I read formed my conscience, my imagination and my desires, and slowly helped me set my mind on higher things. Books like The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom, The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne, He and I by Gabrielle Bossis, Searching for and Maintaining Peace by Fr. Jacques Philippe, and even The Chronicles of Narnia were very formative. Little Women and books by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey (what a mouthful) had Christian worldviews, and while perhaps they were not always subtle, they were effective in making me want to be holy, to be less selfish, to be better.

I wish we had more well-stocked public libraries. I visited a beautiful one in Panjim, Goa. I still hope one day to start a library that makes good books accessible to underprivileged children. But I also wish educated and privileged parents would invest in story books for their children. Reading doesn't seem to be a popular pastime in India. Another dream I have is to be a professional storyteller who goes to different schools and groups and tells stories and gets kids excited about books. I did that during the one year I taught in a village school, and all my children loved reading by the end of the year.

One dream at a time. I'll start with me, and try to return to the world of books this year.

What good books have you read lately? Do you read as much as you'd like to?

My class in the village school, with the 'library corner' far left

The Impossible Dreams I Dreamed

"I want to do something meaningful with my life, I want to get out of this selfish, self-centred rut, and live for others."
"Good luck with that. I used to think like that too. We all did. But once you start working, you forget about those dreams."

I was a naive 20 year old just out of my teacher's training, and instead doing a stint in the corporate world as an instructional designer in an e-learning company. Would I forget about those silly dreams with (what seemed to be to be) a fat pay cheque coming in every month, settling down into the real world?

*******

"Susanna is open to getting married, but she is waiting to find someone whose faith is strong and central to his life."
The Catholic auntie who was questioning my mum and me about my life choices made a skeptical face. "That's a little unrealistic these days, isn't it?"

Was it unrealistic, overly idealistic? Would I die waiting for someone who didn't exist, the laughing stock of onlookers, a good example of kooky Christians out of touch with the real world?

I had consistently desired and believed from the time I was young that I was called to family life, to be a mother and a wife. As I grew older, I sometimes wondered, why would God have put these strong desires in my heart (not everyone had them) if they were not meant to be fulfilled? I began to be embarrassed to share that dream with others as I crossed 30.

*******

On the Feast of the Epiphany yesterday, I suddenly thought about how ridiculous the three wise men must have seemed as they started their journey, following a... star??!! There must have been more socially acceptable ways to spend their time, or search for truth and meaning. Who gets on camels and follows a star? Maybe people didn't outwardly deride them, because they were obviously important, well-to-do men known for their wisdom. But in all times and places and cultures, there are social norms for what are and are not acceptable life goals.

It must have taken a very long time, probably years of preparation and study, and months of the actual journey. But, oh the joy, when they found the One they had been searching for!

And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, 
until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. 
They were overjoyed at seeing the star, 
and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. 
They prostrated themselves and did him homage. (Matt 2: 9-11)

This is not a blog post about believing in yourself and following your dreams. Not all dreams are worth pursuing. (Unpopular opinion, I know.)

But when we quiet ourselves, and search within, we often find the God-given dreams and hopes, the purest desires of our hearts. Many have not yet been fulfilled.

Maybe it's a dream of a strong Christian community where your faith is nourished and strengthened.

Maybe it's a desire for a specific kind of mission - a community centre where all are welcomed and loved and offered Christ, an outreach to sex workers, a prolife ministry.

Maybe it's a dream for mental, emotional or physical healing, where you are not constantly struggling and overwhelmed and drowning.

Maybe it's a dream for reconciliation and healing in your family.

Maybe it's a dream for a solid Christian spouse and a family.

Maybe it's a simple dream to live a happy and holy life wherever you are.

Maybe it's a dream to be free of a certain sin that you struggle with - pornography, indiscipline, anger.

Maybe these dreams seem unrealistic and far away and unlikely to ever reach completion.

Do not stifle these dreams! Hold on to them! Pursue them! Wait for them! Pray for them! Write them down! Find people who will encourage you in your dreams. (No cynics or pessimists allowed.) Do not allow despair or frustration rob your heart of hope.

Pope John Paul II said, "“It is Jesus that you seek when you dream of happiness; He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; He is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is He who provoked you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is He who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is He who reads in your heart your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle. It is Jesus who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives, the will to follow an ideal, the refusal to allow yourselves to be ground down by mediocrity, the courage to commit yourselves humbly and patiently to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.”

*********

You know my story. I left my job, worked for a happy year in a school in a village. I joined a Catholic mission organization, and learned to be holy and less selfish over the next nine years. A year ago, I met and was courted by a strong man of faith, and we are now married and have started our family life together. Some dreams take time, but they are worth waiting for.

I have more dreams. I am tempted to get impatient and doubtful when I don't see them immediately take form. But remembering the slow ways God led me forward in the past gives me hope.

I pray this post gives you hope too.

Related Resources

How To Begin Dreaming (Abiding Together podcast: 33 minutes audio)

Wedding Month Break

Much as I love you guys, and much as I am committed to this blog, and especially my patrons, there comes a time in every blogger's life where she must take a break and disappear from the online world so she can be fully present to her REAL LIFE OF GETTING MARRIED AND GOING ON A HONEYMOON AND MOVING TO A NEW HOME AND CITY WITH HER HUSBAND!

So goodbye for a month! I'll see you all in December hopefully with socially awkward wedding stories and pics. Meanwhile, I leave you with these wonderful wedding memes.

I sent this to Joel. Way to spoil an actual emotional moment :-) Now he'll remember this when I'm walking down the aisle, and have to work on not laughing instead.

Reminder to everyone: It's not 'the bride's day'. 

And everything else the bride chooses. Also, pro-tip, once something is bought, hold back that honest opinion, and find something nice to say. 

 Seriously, Indian weddings are just a whole different level of intense. Another way my family was different - all my siblings had 200 or less guests at their wedding. Mine... will be different.

Indian insider joke: Typically caterers are paid per plate, even if you put almost nothing on the plate. So for goodness sake, guests, don't take a separate plate for your two year old! And don't take a second plate for yourself because you changed your mind and want more food. 

That's all folks! Pray for us!

Related Reading

The Strange Effect Weddings Have on Me 

When Your Facebook Feed Explodes with Weddings 

Why I Can’t Stand Marriage Jokes

Misconceptions: Marriage is Just a Piece of Paper

Stop Bothering God!

It was the call I was both awaiting and dreading. My driving school called to say my driving test was finally scheduled (six months after actually doing the driving classes) for Monday, and practise was on Saturday afternoon. I was furious, even though I had been waiting to get it done. I had been down with the flu for the past week, it was pouring cats and dogs, and I couldn't remember how to drive.

I was filled with a sense of dread and gloom. Nothing about this call seemed propitious. Have you notice how physical sickness makes one even more prone to depression and anxiety? The Saturday practice began to seem like a mighty impassable mountain.

I knew what I had to do. I had to pray. I didn't feel like praying. What could God do about my stupid problems? Anyway the problem was probably all in my head, which didn't make it any smaller to me, but made it less likely that it was important enough to pray about. I once heard a priest say, "Stop bothering God with your problems." "God isn't someone who looks for parking space for you." "He's not some kind of genie who grants us wishes." "God isn't a vending machine." Any of these sound familiar?

And yet, and yet... Jesus is the one who said, "Ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened." (Lk 11:9 -10) Not to mention, crazy talk like, "If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you." (Jn 15:7)

He didn't have to say any of that. He didn't have to make extravagant promises. Why did He? St. John Marie Vianney said, "Our dear God loves to be bothered."

Over many years of trying to understand my God and my faith, I have come to believe (in spite of my changing moods) that God wants me to know of His personal love and concern for me, and THAT is why He wants me to come to Him with my seemingly small and silly problems. When I ask, my faith grows, and I come just a little closer to understanding the God of love, the God who enters into our world and problems to show us He is Emmanuel, 'God with us'.

I also realized that when I asked I needed to ask
a. with faith (even if just the size of a mustard seed)
b. with an openness to His will being different from my desires
c. with a detachment from the final outcome
d. with a greater love and focus on the Giver than on the gift

So I asked. I said, "Lord you know I'm scared of this driving practise and test. I ask that I will wake up feeling better and without fever on Saturday. I ask that the rain will stop on Saturday afternoon and the sun will come out so I can practise without a problem. I ask that the practise will be easy and driving will seem less scary."

The next morning I woke up without fever, feeling better. It was still a rainy day. My dad knew I was worried so he suddenly decided to take me for a half hour of driving practice. I had forgotten everything, but it was easier to remember with him than with a bunch of strangers from the driving school.

That afternoon I got ready to leave, but the rain was pouring down. Everything seemed cold, wet and dreary. I really, really did not want to leave the house. Everything within me rebelled against leaving. But I had to. Once again I prayed, this time aloud. "Lord, PLEASE let the rain slow down and stop for me. And let the sun come out!" I put on all my rain gear, got on to my two-wheeler, and started riding into the rain. I kept praying aloud as I rode (while noting that I've become one of those religious nuts constantly muttering prayers). And as I rode, the rain started slowing down. By the time I reached the ground for the practise, it was a slight drizzle.

The practise turned out to be super easy, and over in less than five minutes. My driver instructor told us that all we had to do was drive along the track in the shape of an eight, and they wouldn't ask any questions. I was able to do it very easily. As I left the ground to stop at the driving school office, the sun peeked out, and I realized all my fears and anxieties had dried up too.

I have seen my share of miracles, and yet I'm still hesitant to ask for them. But why not? Our dear Lord is waiting for us to give Him the precious gift of our expectant faith and trust.

Related Reading 

The Delicate Touches of Love 

Jesus Knows My Love Language

The Tale of the Free Wedding Dress

The Time I Confronted a Priest

I hate confrontations... Something I think I have in common with most other Indians. If you want to stress me out, just come up to me and say with a serious face: "Hi, can we talk?"

It is SO much easier to find a zillion excuses why I don't need to talk directly to someone about a stressful situation or a problem I am having with them.

But here's the thing. When I don't confront, typically one or more of these things happen-

1. I grow resentful of that person.
2. I write them off.
3. I don't give them a chance to change.
4. I spend a lot of time venting about them and the situation to others.
5. The situation doesn't change or gets worse.
6. I start actively avoiding the person.

Passive aggressive behaviour across cultures

Some years ago I was struggling with a priest I was working with. It wasn't just one stressful incident, but many encounters with me and others. So of course I did what anyone else would do in that situation. I complained about him to the people around me (who could do nothing but empathize), I got a sick feeling in my stomach every time I had to interact with him, and my opinion of him went lower and lower.

Okay, I did do one thing differently. I prayed regularly for him. And as I prayed, I eventually heard God speaking to me.

I guess I was hoping He would say something like, "Shake the dust off your feet."

Instead He said:

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one." Matt 18: 15

"Ha ha, Lord, I know You don't really mean that. For me. In this situation. But great concept for other people. In other situations."

But it came up again. And again. To the point where I felt that if I DIDN'T go, I would be directly disobeying Him. So with fear and trembling, and a lot of encouragement from my close Christian friends, I prepared. I prayed a lot. I wrote down clearly what I wanted to communicate. I revved myself up. And finally I went to meet him.

How did I do it? I tried to remember some basic guidelines I had learned earlier:

1. Go with the right attitude: Don't look at the other person as a bad person, but believe that they are your brother or sister, capable of good, just with sins, weaknesses, wounds and blind spots. Believe the best, hope for something good.
2. Affirm the relationship: Start the conversation sharing that you value the other person, the relationship that you have, and the good you have experienced in and from them.
3. Don't accuse, but share your experience: Don't say 'You were rude and mean', instead 'I was hurt when you said...'
4. Be charitable: 'I know you probably didn't mean it' or 'You probably didn't realize that your tone was so sharp.'
5. Give them a way forward: 'I hope that we can have a better relationship moving forward. Next time, could you -'
6. Listen: Allow them to share their perspective and feedback, in case there was something you were missing. Be quick to take responsibility for any way that you messed up. 'You're right, I probably should have come to you earlier with this. Please forgive me.'
7. Don't expect an apology: You can't control how other people respond. Ideally, they would take responsibility for their actions and ask for forgiveness, but we live in an imperfect world, and most people are not used to being directly confronted. You may experience defensiveness, anger, blame, or just indifference. That's okay. You did your part. Trust that God will do His. You can forgive them whether or not they are sorry.

That day I faced one of my worst fears, confronting a person in authority. But I was able to speak calmly and clearly and kindly. I bet that was the first time that priest had ever had a lay person have that kind of conversation with him. And to give him credit, he sat and heard me out. It didn't end perfectly. He didn't acknowledge that he was wrong, but told me that I had misunderstood him and that was just his way. But we ended on an amicable note. I'm sure the Lord planted some seeds in that conversation, even if it was just modelling how to have a respectful confrontation. I grew a little more confident, and the priest seemed to do better after the conversation.

There is so much good fruit that comes from holy confrontations:

1. Restored friendships and relationships
2. Honesty and clarity: Suspicion and mistrust thrive in the darkness. When we talk about things, they are brought into God's light.
3. Freedom from resentment and unforgiveness
4. A clear conscience: 'If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.' Romans 12:18
5. Unity and a good witness

I feel very strongly that Christians in India need to learn how to confront each other well. Relationships within families, and within parishes and communities and ministries are suffering because of our unhealthy culture of avoiding direct confrontation. We have not had good models of this, so it is a new and scary concept. But the only way to learn is to start somewhere and learn from our mistakes.

Is there anyone God is nudging you to confront?

Seven Things I Have Learned about Wedding Planning

My sister got married last year, my brother and a bunch of cousins in the past four years, I've been a bridesmaid seven times, and I'm getting married in four months, so obviously I am an expert on wedding planning. Not. But I'm here to share some great tips, that will give you an insight into the wonderful world of wedding-planning.

1. It's not like Hollywood. Actually, that goes for everything about life, but especially romance, marriage, wedding planning and weddings. For some reason, my entire life I thought wedding planning was this dreamy, magical activity where a normal woman becomes a BRIDE-TO-BE, and is surrounded by a sparkly glamour as she shops and picks out colors and tastes cake. But.... There are no soundtracks. It's not magical. It's not everything you ever dreamed of. It's just life. Sorry for the false expectations. It's your own fault for watching too many cheesy rom-coms.

Pro tip: Stop comparing your life with the movies, and just enjoy the normalcy of everyday magic.

2. Wedding planning is really just organizing and planning a very big event. I totally understand why rich people have wedding planners, because not everybody has the time or the skill or the inclination to actually plan a huge event. Yes, at the heart of a Catholic wedding is the sacrament which IS magical and awesome, but mostly everything else around it is a big event. This can be overwhelming if you've never planned a huge event before, and sometimes it means you don't even know where to start and how to answer every second person who asks you "How's wedding planning going?"

Pro tip: Start planning early enough so that there is room to make mistakes and fix them.

3. It's all about everybody else. I used to state very confidently to my sister that *I* was going to have an unconventional small wedding that was going to be tailored to be fun and it didn't matter what everyone else thought I should do. Well, she had the last laugh as it turns out that weddings ARE largely about what works for everyone else, and it's a big fat lie that 'it's all about the bride' or 'it's all about the couple', or 'it's YOUR day'. I have seen every single bride-to-be across cultures and countries having a version of this conversation with her mother:

Bride (in tears): But I want it this way! Isn't it supposed to be MY wedding day?
Mother: It's not all about you! You have to consider what the guests will want and like and expect.

It's easier to move forward when you accept that fact and that everything is not going to be exactly the way you would have preferred.

Pro tip: Tell yourself it's the marriage, not the wedding that is the goal you're moving towards

4. Weddings are not worth losing your peace over. Actually, nothing is worth losing your peace over. I'd like a pretty, aesthetically pleasing wedding, with a beautiful liturgy, and everything well organized and planned beforehand. I want everyone else to be relaxed and pleased with my choices. But I don't want any of that so much that I'm gong to lose my peace over not getting it. That doesn't mean I don't have temptations to lose my peace, but I have to make the deliberate choice every time something comes up to say a prayer and remind myself  to chill out because it's all going to work out one way or another in the end.

Pro tip: Don't forget to spend time in quiet prayer every day. Helps with perspective.

5. You can't invite everyone. When we were kids, we would eagerly check if wedding invitations has '& fly' on them. Sometimes they didn't and we indignantly wondered why anyone wouldn't want to invite my parents AND their five lovely children. NOW I know. We all have such big social circles in our lives, and so many people we have been friends with over the years. But you just can't invite them all. So now I don't worry about it if I'm not invited to a wedding, and I hope other people feel the same about mine. But I'm also aware there will always be some people who are offended, and I can't control that. #boundaries

Pro tip: Don't make your guest list decisions based on who expects to be there, because that's a losing battle.

6. Wedding planning is a great way to get to know your fiancé better. Is your fiancé a control freak? Do either of you struggle with anxiety and tend to micromanage things? Is he disorganized? Does she procrastinate? Do you both have very different taste in music and colors? Does one insist on their own way every time? Does she cry over stupid things? Does she like to consult her entire friends' network before any decision? Does he refuse to consult anyone before making a decision? How do you each feel about excel sheets and budgeting?

Wedding planning is when you find out those things. This is, by the way, a good thing, because you need to love and accept this person with their weaknesses and struggles and blind spots, and learn to communicate and compromise and call each other on to holiness, and you can't do that if you don't get to know each other well. But wedding planning can also be a great time to discover you LIKE working on projects with your sweetheart, and that you have fun doing things together - something kind of important if you're planning to spend your life together.

Pro tip: Make sure you're doing MARRIAGE prep during engagement, and working on communication, conflict resolution, etc. It actually helps with wedding prep too!

7. Relationships are the most important part of wedding planning. If you're happy about getting married to your fiance, then all of the trouble is worth it. It's about this person. [REMINDER: You should be DELIGHTED when you think about marrying your fiance. If you're not, you're cheating yourself and the other person.] Old and new friends show up to offer help, and that is a beautiful part of this time. Family steps up and takes on different responsibilities. Everyone in your life who bumps into you is SO HAPPY for you. Your parents reflect with you about God's goodness and faithfulness in answering prayers. You make sure you have shared your news with everyone who has been important in your life. The outfits and decor and food and theme are not as important as these relationships.

Pro tip: Take time to hang out with family and friends and fiancé and enjoy their company as you get ready to transition into a new stage of your life, even if it means less than perfect wedding details.

I still have a few months left, and a lot more to learn. Any wedding planning insights or tips you would add?

Related Reading

The Strange Effect Weddings Have on Me 

When Your Facebook Feed Explodes with Weddings 

The Tale of the Free Wedding Dress

Letter to My Teenage Self

Dear young, awkward, skinny Sue,

First of all, don't freak out, but you turn out to be 33 years old and not yet married. Yeah, you don't get married in your early twenties and have a bunch of kids. Didn't expect THAT, did you? But that is the least of all the unexpected things your life holds! I have some news, and some advice, and some lessons I want to share (because people in their thirties like to do that kind of thing).

1. Stop obsessing about romance, marriage and crushes. It's not just something people say to make themselves feel better about being single, but there REALLY REALLY is a LOT more to life than romance. There are SO many good and exciting and challenging things to do and learn and explore, and YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME READING ROMANCE NOVELS AND WATCHING CHICK FLICKS.  Did I say that loud enough? Did you hear me? Put that book down (or even better, throw it away), and jump into something more challenging and interesting.

2. Life gets better once you cross 25. There is nothing like the confidence of the late twenties and thirties. Man, you just won't care anymore! Remember when you were excruciatingly aware of your awkward gait, and self-conscious body language, and you used to practise walking confidently on your way home from college? That totally stops being a thing. You start fitting into your own skin. Also, bonus, you finally start having regular good hair days, and even know how to look pretty without too much effort. But sorry, you never really figure out make-up and how to switch on a photogenic smile, but that's okay. You're beautiful and you finally believe it.

Making weird faces at cameras for three decades

3. You need to start working on discipline. It's not something that magically appears when you cross a certain age. If you don't exercise those self-control muscles now, you will be struggling with it fifteen years later. You have GOT to learn to switch self-indulgence for self-denial. I promise you the fruits of self-denial are much much sweeter. If you don't know where to start, make a daily schedule, set goals for yourself, and make yourself accountable to someone. Start something, and keep at it. It will get easier.

4. Adventures are not as scary as you think they are. Guess what, you travel to the US three times, live in the Philippines for two years, leave your home and family to start afresh many times in MANY different homes, and with many different sets of people, and you actually enjoy a lot of that. You are sometimes homesick and you make mistakes, but you also make lifelong friends, and learn to survive on your own, you learn to travel (although home is still your favorite place), and to figure out how to get things done when you need to without paralyzing anxiety. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. If you cling to it too firmly, you will never grow or change or become the woman you were meant to be.

Adventures: Even boring introverts need them

5. Your faith means nothing if it is not transformed into LOVE. Yes, I know you are super into apologetics, and understanding and explaining the truth of the Catholic faith. And you may be happy to know that 33 year old Sue still loves the beauty and the truth revealed by Jesus through the Catholic Church. But reading blogs and hanging out on Catholic forums and arguing with people is never going to change the world. Look for ways to love people. Fill up your time with service to the poor. Spend more time sharing your faith than defending it. I promise it's worth it.

6. You don't land up marrying ANY of the many crushes you have now. Instead, you meet and fall in love with a doctor (I know, what?!!) from a very different culture than you. You're 32 when you meet him, but all the experiences and lessons of the previous decade have prepared you for this man, and the new life God is inviting you into with him. You can't skip steps. God works things out exactly when and how He wants to, so stop worrying or obsessing about it and live fully the present moment. There is no shame in being single. By the way, when romance finally happens, it is exactly as sweet and beautiful as you hoped it would be, and makes the years of waiting worth it.

Romance in your thirties is just as sweet

7. You never have everything totally figured out. Apparently, nobody does. There are many unanswered questions, self-doubt and struggles with impostor syndrome, problems to solve, decisions to make at EVERY stage of your life. It's not that you magically find your one true career or calling and then live it our perfectly. You're a teacher, a blogger, a full-time Catholic worker, but you will soon be a wife, hopefully a mother, and probably an author (yes, you're supposed to be working on a book). You may do other things and be other things too as life goes on. You don't have to have it all figured out. You just need to ask God what's next, and be faithful to that thing.

Life is good, young Sue! Be happy! Don't be afraid. Stay close to Jesus, and trust that He's going to help you figure things out. And like they say, survive, chuckle, show affection.

P.S. You're no longer young, awkward or skinny.

Related Reading

Breaking Out of the Bubble

Why I’m Glad I Wasn’t the Pretty Girl

You Are Delightful

A couple of weeks ago, my fiancé, Joel, and I were attending a friend's wedding in Bangalore. We were staying at a hotel with the family and family friends of the groom. I didn't know any of them, and they only knew me as the fiancée of the groom's best friend. But one evening after we returned hand-in-hand from a pre-wedding party, an elderly friend of the family came up to Joel and said, "You are a very lucky man - I see the way she looks at you!"

Ugh, I didn't know whether to be totally embarrassed that apparently my face was an open book to the world at large, or to be pleased that the love I felt for him was not so deeply buried that no one could tell it existed (possible side-effects of the non-demonstrative British and Indian culture I grew up in).

Sunday's first reading at Mass was from Proverbs 8 and refers to the relationship between Jesus and His Father.: 'I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the sons of men.'

It's so much easier to think of God as a teacher, a coach, a formator, a guide; someone who is trying to make us better, working on us, challenging us, calling us on. And really, He is all of those things and does all of those things. He loves me enough to want what is best for me and to help me be all I can be.

But more foundational to the relationship He wants to have with me is mutual delight. He looks at me and takes pleasure in me being me, and in me being His. And that's how I feel around Joel. When I look at him, I smile because of who he is with all his quirks and personality traits and desires and hopes and interests and even imperfections, because this human being is an unrepeatable, interesting, multifaceted creation, and because this human being is MINE (or will be soon), entrusted to me by God.

I know it's easy enough to slip into a different way of viewing even the ones we love, to focus on their flaws, to see all the ways they need to improve, all the rough edges that need smoothing, and the dull edges that need sharpening, and suddenly they are a project instead of a person. We see that with parents and kids all the time. For some reason, when they are babies and toddlers, it's easier to just unashamedly delight in them, in their tiny little fingers and toes, in their gurgles and mispronounced words, in their cheeky grins and displays of affection. But pretty soon the easiest way to relate to them is by correcting them, teaching them, directing them, and improving them.

Even worse is when we start to see the people in our lives as a means to an end, as only interesting to us in as much as they are useful to us. When we overvalue the achievements of our children because they make us look good, when the good looks or success of our spouses or children or family members are more of a status symbol or a reason to boast, when their gifts can be used to further our goals, or when we only look at the other with approval and love when they are behaving in exactly the way we want, then we are guilty of using people instead of loving them.

How do we delight in the people in our lives? First, by remembering and experiencing the delight that God takes in YOU. You are delightful! Yes, you with the crooked teeth, and the tendency to argue and over-analyze, and break into song, and laugh at inappropriate moments. You with the social awkwardness, and the extra belly fat, and the big hugs, and the habit of tearing up every time you get excited abut something. You with the agonizing self-doubt, and the frizzy hair, and the snarky comebacks, and the terrible puns. You with the stick legs, and the love of baking and cats and code and cheesy TV shows. You with the little secret acts of kindness, and the tendency to overshare and over-schedule and be late to everything. You with the love of excel sheets, and over-planning, and micro-managing, and cleaning. YOU ARE DELIGHTFUL, just as you are with all the weird and wonderful and wise and whimsical traits and habits.

No, you are not perfect, far from it. No, God does not love your sins. But your sins are not YOU. Sometimes our sins can obscure our delightfulness, but it's still there. And when God looks at you, He sees the REAL you, not just your sins and failings. And He loves you, and delights in you.

Love should be expressed in delight. Simcha Fisher in an article about choosing the right spouse wrote, 'But, women: when you think of marrying the man you’re planning to marry, you should be delighted. Delighted! Are you delighted?'

When we learn to stop and bask in God's delight, we are far more able to delight in the people around us. I once asked a couple of friends three things they liked about themselves. It was surprising how good but how hard that exercise was. It's almost as if we think it's wrong to be delighted in. No wonder it's hard to delight in others.

So take some time to delight in the people around you. Hold back the words of correction and criticism or suggestions for improvement the next time they come to your lips. Just stop and look at them. Look at them and smile. Listen to them when they tell you what they're excited about. Tell them the things about them that give you pleasure. Remove the critical or corrective lenses through which you survey the world, and instead see people the way they are, as delightful children of God. Let's rediscover delight.

Related Reading

A Ten-Year-Old Teaches Her Auntie To Pray
To Be Someone's Darling
How To Love Well - Some Practical Tips

The Day I Left my Job and Flew a Kite

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

It was the best of days, it was the worst of days. But mostly it was the best of days. I was twenty years old and I had just completely humiliated myself by leaving a job five days into it. And I couldn't have felt more free.

Fresh out of teacher's training college, I was young and idealistic. I wanted to teach in a school that valued learning and creativity more than uniformity and blind obedience. I applied at one school that met my high standards, but didn't get through. I wasn't sure what to do next, but at the urging of some family members who told me not to expect the perfect situation, I applied at another school. This one was Catholic and catered to children from lower-income families, so it appealed to my naïve desire to 'make a difference'. Little did I realize that just because a school worked with the poor didn't mean that the school authorities loved or served them like I assumed they would.

The school year had just begun, and one of their teachers had dropped out. I didn't know why, and didn't wonder then. The first day they put me in a first standard class with over seventy children. Yes, the strange hierarchy and systems of Indian schools put a brand-new inexperienced twenty-year-old teacher ALONE in a class of seventy six-year-olds, instead of an experienced teacher, because those teachers had paid their dues and didn't want to be stuck with the toughest class in the school.

No assistant teacher. Seventy little faces stared at me. They didn't speak English yet. They had never sat in a class for seven hours before. They were rowdy kids from tough backgrounds stuck in a situation in which it was impossible to give them individual attention. I tried to teach them, but there wasn't a moment where the entire class was listening. They were miserable, and so was I.

On the first day, some kids in my class got into a fist fight, and blood was drawn. Yes, by six year olds. I had no idea what to do. I tried to ask the other teachers for help, but they didn't know what to say. That's just the way it was. New teachers get the short end of the stick. They enlightened me about other rules.

"I saw you leaning against the table. Teachers aren't allowed to sit down in class."

"What? Why?"

"That's the rule. There are no chairs in the classrooms, because teachers aren't allowed to sit down while teaching."

"But.. But.. We don't have any off periods. That doesn't sound fair."

"That's the rule."

During the recess, I walked out of the class and saw the principal make little six-year-olds kneel in the corridor as a punishment. The school authorities seemed harsh. I went home every day and cried. I cried in the staff room. I cried while trying to talk to the other teachers. I cried more in those five days than I had cried in my life. I felt trapped, but I could see no way out.

Until my parents suggested that I didn't HAVE to work in that hell-hole. I suddenly realized I hadn't signed any papers yet. I didn't NEED the job. They were paying me peanuts anyway. I didn't need to stay in a horrible job out of a misplaced sense of duty. The day I made the decision was one of the happiest days of my life.

"Want to come? We're going to fly a kite!"

There was a strong wind, and my siblings and some friends were heading to a neighbouring open field. I left the cage and my heart went flying with the kite. I will never forget the feeling of freedom I tasted that day, as the kite danced in the breeze.

It's so embarrassing to admit I left a job within five days. In every inspiring story about a teacher who faced terrible odds, that's just the first part of the story. They usually persevere and then they have breakthroughs and then their students become brilliant achievers. Not me though.

Did I leave too soon? I'll never know. What I do know is that after working in an corporate e-learning company for two years, I returned to mainstream teaching in a village for a year. It was one of the best years of my life. I had thirteen eight-year-olds, and a school whose vision was teaching kids to love learning. I was still a brand new teacher, but I had a free hand to work with those thirteen students. I was happy, my students thrived and we all learned together. I have worked successfully with many children since then, and I am happy that my ideals and my desires were not squashed or dimmed by a harsh, oppressive teaching environment. So I guess, no, I'm not sorry I left my job and flew a kite that day thirteen years ago.

Related Reading

I Don't Miss School

The Girl in the Coffee Shop

She had a book open in front of her, but she hardly glanced at it. Instead, she kept staring out of the window, occasionally leaning to the right to get a better view. I looked too, but all I could see was a short stretch of a busy street. What was she looking at? There was nothing that seemed to warrant that much interest.

She was pretty, but her posture was slouched, her hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore no visible make up or jewelry. There was a backpack at her feet, instead of a handbag, so maybe she was a college student? But perhaps not - she didn't seem to wear the little air of self-consciousness that teenagers often do. Plus college students dress up more nowadays, don't they? Her face wore an intense, but abstracted look. What was going on in her head? And why was she sitting in a noisy coffee shop alone for over an hour?

Was she a writer, caught up in her inner world of imagination and plots? The open notebook and pen lent themselves to this theory. But then, why did she keep getting distracted by the street outside?

Maybe she was waiting for someone. When she wasn't staring at the street, she kept glancing back at the door. But the classic give away of one who waits is the constant fidgeting with the phone. 'Has he left yet? Is he late? Where is he now? What time is it?' Only the phone reveals the answers to these all-important questions - and she hadn't looked at her phone even once. Wait a minute, did she even have a phone? I hadn't seen evidence of one, and I was struck suddenly by how unusual that was. Perhaps she was one of those enlightened minimalists who feel called to live an unplugged life, to go back to simpler times. But for an enlightened, living-in-the-present-moment saint, she sure seemed pretty distracted and fidgety.

If she was expecting someone to walk in the door any second, she would probably look more eager or tense. Instead, she had a little furrow in her brow - either a thinking furrow or a worried furrow, or both, but occasionally a smile would flash across her face at a passing secret thought.

What was the secret of the girl in the coffee shop and why was she fascinated by the short stretch of road outside the window? Would I ever know, or would it be one of those unsolved mysteries that would haunt me for the rest of my life?

A few minutes later, she turned as the door swung open and a bearded young man in a blue checked shirt walked through. Matching smiles lit both their faces, as she jumped up, and they met in an embrace. That's when I noticed the rings on their left hands.

'Lovers', I thought, returning to my coffee. 'It's always lovers.'

A short sketch from my last visit to meet my fiancé. I had left my charger at home and my phone was dead. We had a pre-decided rendezvous point close to the hospital where he works, but he was in surgery, so for all I knew, it could have taken hours for him to finish. I wrote this sketch as I waited, from the POV of another customer.

We Belong to Each Other

This morning I was waiting at a train station (something one does a lot of when one has a fiancé in a different city) and contemplating the early morning masses of humanity going about their day. A few feet away from me was a group of men and women, squatting on the ground close to the train tracks. Their voices were raised in raucous banter and laughter, and they seemed to me unfamiliar and uncouth.

But as I watched them, I remembered something I saw recently as a response to the Christchurch shooting. It was a quote from Mother Teresa that said:

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."

It was easy for me to read that quote, and nod sententiously. "Yes, those people have forgotten that we belong to each other, that we are responsible for each other, that the 'other' is not the enemy. When will they learn?" It can be hard for me to understand how anyone can reach a place where they could even consider wanting to end the life of another. I'm not like that.

But this morning as I looked at those people, I realized it starts with suspicion, with fear. And I too was also looking at them as 'the other', foreign to me, strange to me, and disconnected with my life and my reality. I stepped back and looked at my own subconscious prejudices. I look at people who seem educated or dressed like me as more valuable, more connected with me. And the others? They weren't mine. I was more likely to look at them with suspicion, watch my bags, keep my distance.

In that moment, I tried to look at them differently. Sure, they were loud, they related to each other differently than I would relate to my friends or family. But though they had come from a different world than mine, they were also just waiting for a train. They felt hungry, tired and thirsty. They had common jokes and friends they could joke around with. They had hopes, and desires, and fears, and problems.

And on a deeper level, they were made by the same God who loved me into being and has been directing my life. They were as worthy of love and salvation as I was. They were made for love, as I was.

If Jesus is true for anyone anywhere, then Jesus is true for everyone everywhere.

And if that is true, that has an impact on the way I see and treat people. They are no longer disconnected, unrelated to me. They are mine too, as they are His.

What about those who are not just innocent bystanders going about their own lives? What if they are BAD PEOPLE? What about the man in the train staring at me a little too long? What about the aggressive beggars? What about those who treat me with suspicion because of my faith? Even those who don't consider themselves MY friends, who may want to cheat me, or abuse me, or just ignore me - those too are my brothers and sisters. It doesn't mean I support or excuse evil. But I still see the perpetrator as salvageable, as one who deep down is made for good, made for love, made for heaven. If Christianity is all about redemption, then we have no enemies of flesh and blood. If we fight, we fight with weapons of love. We are not overcome by evil. but we overcome evil with good. And all those who do the same, are connected with the same God of love.

"If you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?" Matt 5:47

One morning's reflection won't change everything, but it's a start.

Stretch my heart, Lord, so I can love as you love, so I can see the world as You see it. Let peace begin with me.

Valentine’s Day Special: What It Is Like To Have a Catholic Boyfriend

The term ‘boyfriend’ is a sensitive one in India. Most people avoid it, and you keep getting introduced to someone’s ‘friend’ until suddenly they’re married. Most likely it’s because of the arranged marriage culture that moves very fast from introductions to decisions to marry, with very little space in between. The only people who date and have boyfriends or girlfriends are seen as those who may be approaching relationships very casually, most likely are either very young and going about it in a clandestine way, or older and wary of the permanence or stability of marriage. It has an unsavoury tinge to it to many people.

But as a modern-day Christian, I both value marriage, as well as think it’s essential to take time to get to know someone WELL before making such a big decision. What do you call someone in the interim period? I met a wonderful young man some months ago, we started ‘talking’, went on some dates, and then entered an intentional relationship/ courtship/period of discernment (more on the stages of a relationship in a different post). Since ‘intentional relation’ seemed strange and possibly creepy, we fell back on ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’, even though we are both in our thirties and perhaps that makes us sound younger than we are.

As my regular blog readers know, I was not interested in being in a relationship or getting married unless it was to someone who shared my faith (apart from several other criteria that I won’t detail here). People thought I was crazy. “You’ll never get married if you have such high expectations.” “Don’t set conditions, maybe he will become religious after he meets you. My husband didn’t go to church before, and he changed after we got married.”

Well, then I was prepared to stay single. But I entrusted this desire of my heart to the Lord. He told me “You take care of my stuff, and I’ll take care of you.” Well, He did! I got myself a super-Catholic boyfriend. I wanted to share some of the details to inspire y’all (or make you envious), and to honour him on Valentine’s Day. So what is it like to have a Catholic boyfriend?

1. Our first conversation started with me asking him ‘What’s your story?’ (I can’t do small talk) and he proceeded to share his testimony even though he was thrown off-guard. (Not intimidated by heavy questions! Winning!)

2. Before we even went on our first date, he took time off from talking to me for a personal retreat to pray about whether this was something God was calling him to start. Talk about intentional.

3. We often land up saving and sending each other the same Catholic memes and jokes.

4. In fact when I was Facebook stalking him before we even started ‘talking’, I was surprised to find we had shared a lot of the same Catholic links and jokes over the past year (why yes, that is a part of a girl’s research on whether she would consider dating a guy. Guys, check your Facebook profiles.)

5. When we meet and he hugs me, I say things like, “Why is it that it’s always so much better when we’re in the same place than on video call? I know - it’s because we are EMBODIED SPIRITS.” And he gets it.

6. On our very first date, we were supposed to meet at a garden before going out for pizza. But he secretly was hoping and planning to stop at an Adoration chapel before we even met, but didn’t want to tell me because he thought it would sound too cheesy. But the garden closed, we had to wait somewhere before the restaurant opened, so he jumped in with “Is there an Adoration chapel close by?” And that’s how we spent the first ten minutes of our first date with Jesus in a chapel.

7. We often include a stop at an Adoration chapel on our dates.

8. On our second date, we were each waiting for the other to signal when it was time to go, so we landed up spending more than half an hour at a church. While I was getting slightly impatient and wondering why we were still there, he coolly pulls out his bible and proceeds to have his personal prayer time.

9. He carries a bible everywhere he goes.

I got one for free

10. He often asks me what the Lord said to me in my personal prayer time.

11. On the day we started our courtship, I was extremely tired, so as I shared with him that I was finally ready, I just started rambling about everything I had been thinking and feeling and experiencing that weekend (I tend to ramble when I’m tired). He interrupted me to say, “Can we stop a moment and pray?” “Oh. Yeah.” He held my hand and proceeded to consecrate our relationship to the Lord and ask Mary to cast her mantle of protection over us as well. Swoon.

12. We both took personal silent retreats a month into our courtship to pray about what the Lord was saying to each of us. We read excerpts from Pope John Paul II’s Love and Responsibility (WHICH I CANNOT RECOMMEND HIGHLY ENOUGH), watched Jackie Angel’s video about how to know if you’ve found the one, and shared what the Lord said to us after our retreats.


13. Far from being shocked when I have shared some of my sins and weaknesses with him, he has promised to help me with them, told me to tell him when I’m struggling and said even if I give in to temptation, at least he can pray for me in the midst of it.

14. He ends every nightly conversation with a prayer for us and our current needs and struggles, a Hail Mary and a ‘Saint John Paul, pray for us’. (I’m sharing my patron saint with him. I didn’t realize when I chose him in 2016 HOW MUCH John Paul II had written and taught about love, romance, marriage and relationships.)

15. He loves going to Mass and Adoration and did long before he met me, and prays the Rosary every day (which is more than I do).

There’s so much more to him and to our relationship. We also do normal stuff like watch movies and dance and go to restaurants and get anxious about things and have misunderstandings and stay up too late talking and complain about how tired we are all the time. Being Catholic doesn’t make everything perfect or easy. He’s not perfect, neither am I, and nor is our life or our relationship. But we are both aware that we need Jesus even more than we need each other, that we need to have our personal prayer time before we talk to each other, and that only Jesus can help us learn to love each other well. Having a relationship with a living God helps us remember to always return to the One who can sustain us and get us back on track.

 P.S. Here’s an interesting little fact – he’s no longer my boyfriend. But that’s a story for a different day.

 Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart!