Melchior, where or how do I search for God?

I wrote in a previous post how I love the Feast of the Three Kings. And I do. This year though a lot of work and stress gathered up and since I had to postpone my own work to prepare for the Feast I experienced a bit of frustration and anxiety. But once I let go of that and realized that my contribution to the Feast was helpful to a lot of people I was really looking forward to meeting the Three Kings (yeah, they actually come and they barely speak Romanian so I'm their translator). And since it's my third year as the Kings's translator I too, just like the kids, write a letter to the Kings. Tradition says the letter should contain a narration of an event of the past year in which I experienced God's love and that I should also ask for a special grace and a gift.
I'm not gonna tell you all that I wrote in my letter. But after the kids met the Three Kings and spoke with them it was time for the adults to approach the Kings... not many adults were willing, which is quite weird - why we grown-ups have such little faith. But since I was there translating and I had written a letter (which, with my lack of faith I left at home for I feared actually showing it to the Kings) I asked the Kings whether they wanted to talk to me too. And Melchior asked me what did I ask for in my letter. And I said I wished for grace to see the will of God. And Melchior asked me again: "Do you seek God?" and I hesitantly replied smiling for I was very off-guard: "I try... I think so, yes..." but Melchior asked me once again: "Do you seek God seriously? Seek him, with seriousness, and all other things will be given to you." And as I tried to smile and nod "Yes" he kept on repeating "Seek God, seek Him, seriously." And he said that several times and I kept feeling smaller and smaller... There I was, the translator of the Kings, always smiling and joking and amusing, looking like one who does not search for God with seriousness. This fact makes me feel very small and altogether outside of faith. Like one who does not know God at all. And as I came home I kept replaying the scene in my mind "Seek God. Do you seek God?" - "What should I have answered? Do I seek God? I think, I mean, I don't know, I try to do His will, but I don't know what it is, so how do I know? How do I search for God?"... Truth is, I don't think I searched for God much. I think I kind of took Him for granted. He's here, he's always with me, we're in a relationship, why would I search for Him? But if I'm in a relationship with God how come I have no idea what He wants from me and my life? How come I always feel this foggy, like nothing's really clear to me and I'm never quite happy? How come I have no idea which way my life's going and if I'm doing the right thing and going in the right direction at all? Maybe it's because I don't really listen to God. I'm not really trying to find out His will. I'm just trying to see if His will is going to be doing mine. If He's going to do things my way and grant me my wishes. And that's not searching for God. And that's not faith. So now I ask "Melchior, where and how do I search for God?"...

Dresdner Stollen or how I try to give Christmas a second chance

So... I started writing this yesterday, but right now I am at my workplace which is beautifully decorated, and there's an artificial fireplace and a nice big natural Christmas tree and a lot of decorations, and I'm tired and on my 4th cup of coffee and it's been a bit of a hard day and I would like to talk about it to someone but I can't so all in all I am still having very mixed feelings about this Christmas. But let's just say I decided to give Christmas a second chance and let myself be won over by all those beautiful things that happen around this time of the year.
This Advent, as I was looking towards Christmas I began to realize more and more that I do not wish to celebrate it this year: not another Christmas sad and alone, not trying to fill the void and the absence of the one I love with decorations and chocolate. I don't want to celebrate Christmas not even a little bit, not even at all since it is clear to me that I will be alone, yet surrounded by too many people. And since I can't spend these days with the one I love the most, all I really want is having the possibility of going somewhere where I don't know a soul. Somewhere I am completely alone and I can go to Mass, then take a long long midnight walk around a pretty burg. But out of various reasons that is not possible. So here I am, caught between moaning about this year's Christmas and swinging and singing to Benedict, the 6 months wonder I babysit.
So I decided I needed to do something special, something I wanted to do in a long while, something that would make me feel better. So I decided baking a Dresdner Stollen. Because it's Jesus's birthday, and though I said I wouldn't go, someone wise told me: "That's perfectly fine. But you can't stop Him from coming to you." And that's true, and I kind of hope He'll come and I thought it would be nice having a piece of the most wonderful Christmas cake in the world on the table. And there's another thing: I like to make-believe. So I just pretended that one of the Stollens will get to the one I love. I just pretended he'll love it, I just pretended he'll be happy to know I made it and to know I made one for him too. Oh yes, and I made the marzipan myself, too.

I love backing. I simply love that. The oven (which I don't possess at home) is the only thing I miss about my parents's house. So yesterday I went there and I started preparing: to me, that has the value of a ritual. I just enjoy every little moment of it, every small detail. I love getting my hands in the dough and molding it, I love the smell of raisins sunk in rum and the scent of freshly grated lemon and orange, and naturally, the smell of almonds which was all over the place and all over my clothes. It's just a very pure bliss. And I cover the dough and put it in a warm and dark place and put a blanket on top of it and I say a prayer that the cake will be good and I don't enter that room for two full hours. I just like doing this with piety, like a prayer, like a healing process. And when I put the cake in the oven I like staring at it for a while meditating about the reasons behind this act of love. To me, baking sweets is an act of love. I usually do it for those people who are special to me, friends, family or the most dear ones. This time too I split the dough in two: one for my parents, one lovingly made Stollen for my most dear one. And even if I would tell him about it he probably wouldn't accept it, but it's even more probable that I won't even dare to tell him about it, because he's not really a Christmas person. But that's ok. Even if I never give this Stollen to the one I made it for, that's ok. I needed to bake it. That's how I am. I am very selfish like that: although I try to accept the other one's freedom of not responding to my feelings, I always feel the need of expressing them even when facing rejection, sometimes, even at the cost of the other one's comfort. That's how I'm made, and it's a bit stupid. It's stupid baking a cake no one's going to eat, it's stupid believing "almost six impossible things every morning before breakfast", it's stupid preparing and anticipating a miracle that might never take place. And in the end it's bitter. It's very bitter to be alone, it's very bitter not to be able to talk to the one you love, it's bitter always being far away, it's bitter not knowing if it will ever get better. But through all this bitterness I pray every day for hope and love and faith. And every night when I go to bed I check myself to see if I still have hope. And that small fragile hope, that tiny tiny, so so tiny belief that this what I feel is right, that is just the right amount of sugar to this bitterness. And that, my dear ones, that's how marzipan is made. Because not everything that's bitter is bad, and sometimes bitterness can have a wonderful taste if you add to it a tender bit of sweetness. So my Stollen is about that. About accepting this bittersweet Christmas. About realizing that God loves me even though I'm foolish, and stupid and subjective, even though I exaggerate and I am very emotional. This Stollen is about me trying to let go and spend this Christmas in silence and peace, accepting that even though I am not "incandescently" happy, I am blessed and I am thankful. I am thankful for all the miraculous things that have happened this year, I am thankful for having such a beautiful soul to think about while baking a Stollen, I am thankful for loving. What's bittersweet about it is that I love in solitude. But that's ok, I would rather love from the distance than not love at all.
Oh, and P.S. this is my favorite bittersweet Christmas song :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9jbdgZidu8

Will You be upset if I skip Your birthday this year?

This year I didn't celebrate my birthday with a party. I was too busy and too stressed studying for the project that changed my life completely. I had lunch or dinner (can't remember) with my parents and that was it. And I really don't mind and I don't regret it at all. And so was 2 years ago and 4 years ago when I had an exam on my birthday. I'm just not obsessed about having a huge party or celebration.
But I do love Advent. And please note, Advent, not Christmas. And the Feast of the Three Kings on the 6th of January. I love that too.
I love Advent because it makes me believe a miracle will happen very soon. It makes me prepare and anticipate (and I loooooove anticipating!) and it makes me wait with excitement and hope and feel like happiness is just around the corner, just 4 weeks, then 3 weeks, then 2 weeks, one week, a couple of days... today... and it doesn't happen. I am sad, I am sorry, and as a christian I am ashamed to say, the last time I was completely happy on Christmas Day was 4 years ago in 2011, but then on the 27th of 2011 I started writing the most painful piece of prose I ever wrote. And since then, although I waited for it, although I prepared, although I made everything (not just silly decorations and sweets, I fasted, I prayed, I did "my job") and I was O.K. for Christmas, I wasn't truly happy. And no matter how much I tried to make it about Jesus and His birthday and His birth inside my heart, I still felt alone and sad.
So here I am, in the second week of Advent, on the night before waking up at 5 am to go to the Rorate mass, trying to picture how in the world will I be happy this Christmas, praying with all the strength I have left for a miracle, trying to figure out how the miracle will be (see the stupidity???) and in the end crying my eyes out that I just want to skip this Christmas.
Yes, my dearest Jesus, I want to skip Your birthday this year. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't celebrate your birthday alone again, I can't spend Christmas Day trying with all my guts to smile and to be happy and to make it about You when I know, and You know, and we both know, that I'll wish I was somewhere else. This year I don't care about decorations, I don't care about sweets and carols and presents and snow. I like those things, yes, but they don't matter anymore. They can't fill the void anymore. All I wish is that I wouldn't be alone, I don't need anything, I don't need one little led light, not even a candle, not the smallest one. I just don't want to be alone in my home looking at a Christmas tree that won't mean a thing. Instead I prefer an empty house, as dark as it can be, but knowing that I hold the hand of the man that I love in mine.
And this is very selfish, but it's the sincerest thing I've ever told You, my Beloved: I don't have enough faith to think You'll make me happy. And I don't want to celebrate Your birthday being sad, I just can't cry another Christmas through again. So can we skip Your birthday this year? I just don't think I can make it. I'm so so sorry and I do love You, but I don't want to come to another birthday of Yours alone.
Always Yours,
C.

The Lighthouse

I am the lighthouse.
I may seem far away and outside the trembling sea,
but my grounds are always firm and my light will never fade out.
No matter how strong the winds that shake you and how dark the storm,
no matter how violent the waves that toss you and how deep down you sink,
look at me.
I am always there and my light never gets tired and the sand never moves beneath my feet,
I am your lighthouse.
If you remember the night is always darker before the dawn,
the shore will be closer than you think. 

I wrote this a while ago when I was in Israel. And then I printed the picture of a lighthouse and put it on my coffee tumbler to remind me of it every day. And there are days when I feel I'm losing my faith and then I ask myself a set of questions and I answer them and they all sum up to this: "We are here to love: not much else matters" (Francis Chan). And there is another quote I think about every day: "Yes, feeling loved is very important. But loving, my precious girl, that's the necessity." We should never regret loving. Because that would be as if the lighthouse would regret being on the shore casting its light over the sea. Because yes, there are times when I feel sad if I don't feel loved the way I would like to be, and yes again, I feel alone every now and then. But even if all seems lost, I never regret loving and I know, with all that I am, that I do not wish to do otherwise. When I started writing this I was having a moment with God like one has with her only best friend, talking about all my fears and insecurities and how all feels hopeless. And I looked at my tumbler and wondered where does the lighthouse take its light from? I am given mine from God. All this fragile love I feel, all the poor strength I have, all of it, comes from Him. I can't pretend not to have a relationship with God, I can't avoid the subject and act as if all I feel is from myself. "We love because He loved us first."  If I want to keep being a lighthouse I need to be given my light. I need to feel loved, but by God. I need to talk to Him about the things I can't even spell out loud. I need to know Him by my side so that every day I can go on and on without ever feeling like I have nothing left to give. He's the first and He will always be first. Because all the good I have to give He gave it to me first. That's where the lighthouse takes its light from.

Since Advent started I felt the need to get back to this blog. I missed it :) 

Fiicelor mele, cu drag, mama. :) (with English Translation)

Unul din motivele pentru care am început acest blog de realitate sensibilă, care de fapt e un alt fel de a spune „realitate creștină”, pe lângă faptul că eu însămi sunt creștină și am nevoie să vorbesc despre experiența asta, este acela că sper ca într-o zi să am o familie creștină și poate câteva fiice. Care fiice, cel mai probabil, vor trece și ele prin experiențe similare cu ale mele. Și cu toate că sper că voi știi să fiu alături de ele, există șanse mari să devin super-protectivă și să vreau să le închid într-un turn în care nimeni să nu le rănească vreodată. Și nu cred că le va plăcea asta. Așa că m-am hotărât să le las experiența mea scrisă, ca să le arăt că și eu am avut partea mea de zbucium și tristețe și să îmi amintesc că nici mie nu mi-a fost ușor să mă confrunt cu toate.

„Dragă Rita sau Maria-Amparo sau Debora,

Una din cele mai enervante, frustrante și triste experiențe pe care le vei trăi va fi aceea de a-ți plăcea, sau și mai rău, a te îndrăgosti, de persoane nepotrivite. Dacă vei semăna cu mine, înainte de a te gândi ce mai exact îți place la el, te vei gândi la toate modurile și felurile în care o relație cu persoana asta nu va funcționa. Te vei panica instant la gândul că poate vei reuși prin absurd să-l faci să-i placă de tine și apoi va trebui să îi vorbești despre tine și despre felul în care trăiești tu viața ca fată creștină. Așa că, cel mai probabil, nici nu vei știi dacă să fii tristă că nu te cheamă în oraș și nu iese cu tine, sau să te bucuri că măcar așa nu trebuie să îi explici că tu n-o să dormi cu el, n-o să te culci cu el, și practic, n-o să faci cam niciunul din lucrurile pe care el se așteaptă ca o fată de vârsta ta să le facă într-o relație. Și cu toate că în tine va fi mereu o voce care îți va explica frumos și rar că există cineva pentru tine și că nici măcar nu îți place așa de tare de tipul ăsta, vor fi momente când te vei îmbrăca cu o rochie frumoasă, te vei machia drăguț și vei veni singură acasă și vei vrea să spargi oglinda și să dai foc la tot dulapul, pentru că adevărul e că în seara asta nu vrei să fii singură și ai vrea ca cineva să te scoată la plimbare, să te țină de mână și să te sărute. Da, și te enervează cumplit că de fiecare dată când te gândești ce să mai faci ca să-i atragi atenția revine vocea care îți explică că nu are niciun sens să îi atragi atenția pentru că dacă îi va plăcea de tine, va trebui să îi explici cine ești și asta e cea mai sinistră și traumatizantă discuție pe care ți-o poți imagina și ți-e frică de ea și știi că nu va duce nicăieri, pentru că te uiți la omul de care îți place și îți dai seama că nu există nicio șansă pe pământul ăsta prin care el chiar să fie fericit numai să te țină de mână și să te ia în brațe. Și da, ești tristă și suferi. Și da, știi și tu că într-o zi va fi bine și le crezi pe toate persoanele care încearcă să te înveselească amintindu-ți ce tânără și frumoasă ești, dar în momentul ăsta vrei să le bați pe toate, pentru că tu ești singură și plângi și vrei ca cineva să-ți spună lucruri drăguțe și amuzante și să se joace în părul tău și să te ia în brațe și pur și simplu nu vezi persoana asta nicăieri. Și poate vrei atunci să te rogi să nu mai simți asta niciodată și să nu-ți mai placă de niciun băiat care nu e pentru tine. Dar nici asta nu va funcționa pentru că după un timp îți va fi dor să simți și dor să-ți placă și să râzi și să te aranjezi. Chiar dacă acum toate complimentele te lasă cu un gust amar, pentru că știi că nu au nicio valoare. Chiar dacă acum toate ți se par fără sens și fără rost, pentru că știi foarte bine că tu nu te poți conforma cu societatea în care trăiești. Pentru că tu nu-ți regreți deciziile și nici nu-ți regreți credința. Regreți că ești cam singură în asta și că eșuezi în a le arăta celor din jur că e frumoasă viața de creștin. Regreți că lumea în care trăiești te vede ca pe o persoană pedepsită, nu binecuvântată. Regreți că nu reușești să dai cuiva curaj să încerce viața altfel. Regreți că oamenii te admiră, poate chiar te doresc, dar nu te acceptă de fapt așa cum ești. Regreți că încă nu ai reușit să treci peste toate astea, regreți că încă suferi și cazi în deznădejde. Dar asta-i viața, Maria, și povestea asta probabil se va repeta de nenumărate ori până în ziua când îl vei cunoaște pe acela care trebuie să vină. Dar dacă tu citești asta, vreau să ieși din camera ta, sau din baie, de unde te-ai ascuns să plângi și să mergi să te uiți la tatăl tău. Dacă nu îl găsești așezat la masa din bucătărie mâncând lucernă, să știi că nu e un bou, e acela care s-a uitat la mama ta și a văzut o comoară, nu o pedeapsă, acela care l-a lăsat și pe Dumnezeu să mai facă din planuri și care s-a încrezut în El, că nu-l va face nefericit și nesatisfăcut, ci
îi va da cu adevărat harul iubirii, de a putea trăi cu adevărat o poveste minunată. Curaj, baby, Dumnezeu te-a ales din ziua în care eu am scris aceste rânduri, El îți va da tot ce îți dorește inima și încă mai mult.

Cu drag,
Mama.

P.S. În cazul în care nu te-a ajutat cu nimic tot ce am scris, am ceva folositor pentru tine: este înghețată în congelator.”

















English Translation:

To my daughters, with love, Mom.

One of the reasons for which I started this blog about "the sensitive life" which is just another way of saying "christian life", besides the fact that I am a christian and need to talk about this experience, is the fact that I hope to have a christian family someday and maybe a couple of daughters. Which daughters, most probably will experience similar stories as I did. And even though I hope I'll know how to be there for them and support them, there are chances I'll turn into an over-protective mother wanting to lock them in a tower where no one will ever hurt them. And I don't think they're gonna like that. So I decided to leave them my written experience, so they will know they are not the only ones who had to go through all this stuff and I will be able to remember I had a hard time coping with everything too.

Dear Rita or Maria-Amparo or Deborah,

One of the most annoying, frustrating and painful experiences you will ever have will be liking, or worse, falling in love with someone who isn't right for you. And if you are anything like me, before thinking what is it that you like about him you will start thinking about all the ways in which a relationship with this person won't work. You will panic at the thought that he might like you back and then you will have to talk to him about yourself and how you live your life as a Christian girl. So, most probably, you won't even know if you should be sad that he doesn't ask you out or just be glad that in this way you don't have to explain him that you won't sleep with him, have sex with him or basically won't do any of the things he would expect a girl of your age would do in a relationship. And although there will always be a voice in your head that will explain to you nice and slowly that there is someone out there for you and that you might not even like this guy so much, there will be times when you'll put on a pretty dress and a beautiful make-up (not you, Julia, because you don't do any of these, but my daughters might) and come home alone and wishing you smashed the mirror and burn all your clothes because the truth is that tonight you don't want to be alone and you wish there was someone there to take you out on a walk and hold your hand and kiss you. Yes, and you hate it that every time you think about what you could do to make him notice you the voice in your head reminds you that it would make no sense getting his attention because if he might like you then you will have to explain him who you are and that is by far the most traumatizing and sinister conversation you could possibly imagine and it won't lead anywhere because there is no chance on this Earth that he might actually be happy with only holding your hand and "slightly" hugging you (I felt the need to emphasize "slightly" - men nowadays have skills in hugging too). And yes, you are sad and in pain. And yes, you know one day everything will be alright and you believe it when everyone tells you that you are young and beautiful but right now you just wanna tell everyone to go to hell because you are alone and crying and wishing someone was there watching the game with you and telling you funny things and nice things and holding you and you just don't see this person anywhere. And maybe then you wanna pray that it all goes away and that you never ever feel again and fall again for the wrong person. But that won't work either, because after a while you will miss feeling and liking and laughing. Even though right now all compliments leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth because you know they are worthless. Even though  everything seems pointless right now because you know you can't conform to the society you live in. Because you don't regret your decisions or our faith. You regret being a little alone in this and failing to show the people around you that life as a christian is very beautiful. You regret the fact that the world sees you as a punished person not a blessed one. You regret that you can't give someone the courage to try to live life differently. You regret that people admire you and even desire you but don't really accept you as you are. You regret that you still haven't figured out how to get over all this and you still suffer and lose hope. But that's how life is, Maria, and this story will never get old until the day you meet the one who is yours to come. But if you are reading this, I want you to get out of your room or the bathroom where you've hidden to cry and go look at your father. If you don't find him sitting  at the kitchen table eating hay then you should know he's not an ox but a man who looked at your mother and saw a treasure, not a curse. He is a man who let God make some of the plans and who trusted that He will not make him unhappy and unsatisfied but will give him the power to love and be truly happy. Courage, my little baby, God has chosen you since the day I wrote these lines. He knows your heart and will fulfill all of your wishes and even more.

I love you,
Mom.

P.S. If nothing of this helped, here is something helpful: there is ice-cream in the refrigerator.