Letter to My Younger Self

15 year old bright-eyed girl, with the loud laugh. Don’t be defined by your grades or your jersey number. You’re too good for that, even though right now you probably think that is all there is in life. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Your heart is gold. And the hurt that comes from the roots you’re planting your identity in right now are hard to heal. They’re deep. So be you—just Hannah. She’s enough. Teach yourself that now. Be grateful for the beginning that you are experiencing, the rock that is Pius. Thank the teachers around you who will be so much more to you than the name on your report card. Let them in. 

p.s. Charf gives you your first B and down the road, Lauren is your saving grace. 

18-year old beauty, gosh I wish I could hug you right now. It seems like it’s never going to go away. That hole. Let me reiterate what everyone is telling you, one day you will wake up and it will be okay. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the next day. But give it time. Just let it hurt, really, seriously, just sit there and let yourself feel it all. Right now you probably regret not going away for fashion school. Don’t. You have so much ahead of you even though you think this is an end, it’s actually a beautiful new beginning. Don’t put a timeline on your healing. It’s okay that your heart is fragile, looking back that’s my favorite part about you. You love hard and you hurt deep. Just let mom hold you and share her stories with you. Ask dad for a hug. Sis knows a thing or two about this too. Let them in. 

p.s. This isn’t the end of the story. 

21-year old crazy girl, I’m just laughing thinking about you right now. The memories are fun, the friends are even more fun. Fr. Holdren has good advice though, I want you to listen to him. Find the role this liquid comfort has in your life early. It does more harm than good unless you learn early. Just get it in your head now that they won’t like you less without it, they’ll respect you more. And soon you’ll come to respect yourself more too. Mistakes are fine, making the same one twice isn’t. It’s okay to be scared of the call—just don’t run into the arms of someone who doesn’t care. Run into His arms, He wants you more than you know. Let Him in. 

p.s. Don’t give Bri your ID on NYE…. 

To my present day, not yet what I want to be but that’s okay, self. It’s okay that you aren’t where she wanted you to be by now. It’s okay that you’re not a married mom of two, living in Lincoln with stability and roots. It’s okay that you don’t have it figured out yet and it’s okay that the longing seems to take over when you least expect it. It’s okay to not feel okay all the time. But just know that those times you’ve felt heaven on earth, those are real. That is what joy feels like—true, abundant, full, lasting joy. And you have many of those moments up ahead. You will be okay. I promise. 

p.s. This isn’t the end of the story. 

Hello Captain, my old friend.

There I was. In that all-too-familiar, dark corner confessional waiting for the priest to start with the Sign of the Cross. My heart was racing just thinking about the words I was about to say. Admitting to the sins I promised myself I wasn't going to let happen again. He opened the window and began, "In the name of the Father..."

The rest was a blur. After almost two years of being a missionary, I thought I would've had it figured out by now. But I ended up back in the spot I've always felt His Mercy, this confessional. The chatter inside my mind was stopped by the words of the priest, "This isn't you. You don't need to be carrying this."

This isn't you. 

---

In high school, I was determined not to drink until college. Only the "party crowd" had alcohol at their parties and I had too much to lose: a 4.0 GPA, my reputation as the good girl, a spot on varsity volleyball. But for some reason in my mind, when college hit it was okay to drink. Obviously being in a sorority, I was quickly introduced to the party scene and had ample opportunities to try my way in this new world. All of the mistakes weren't mistakes, they were memories, and I was in college so this is just what you do. Right?

After being in my chapter for a couple of months, I got involved in our house's bible study. My heart felt like it belonged there and I had so many women who I could look up to in the faith. I remember distinctly when my big (our bible study leader) came out to a party one Friday night and the whole house rejoiced because she never went out. I found something odd yet intriguing about that. Yet, it seemed like every weekend I kept finding myself at parties, drinking jungle juice and not thinking anything of it.

During sophomore year, I wrestled with underage drinking and asked Fr. Holdren every question under the sun. It always came back to the role alcohol has in our lives. He said something that I will never forget, "It's like a horse and a jockey. We are the jockey and our emotions and passions are the horse. But when we let our passions become the jockey and take control, our lives are misaligned."

I heard what he said, but didn't really listen. A couple of months later, I turned 21 and didn't skip a beat. I was "of age" right? I could do whatever I wanted to now. The bars became a commonplace, stumbling home drunk was happening 3-4 times a week and Husker football game days were a marathon that started at 8 am.

Alcohol was slowly starting to creep into the driver's seat without me ever really knowing it. Senior year rolled around, I applied to be a FOCUS missionary and got the job the first week of December. Looking back on it now, I was so incredibly scared of what this meant for me. I felt unworthy and yet I knew I was called. And so, in my mind, I needed to get out all of my bad habits before I left for training in June. Unfortunately, that's not really how it works.

What followed was a long treacherous couple of months of me making some horrible mistakes and yet somehow always knowing this was never really who I was. At the end of May, I packed up my bags and started the most incredible adventure of my life--one full of healing and growth and confronting this old foe who always seemed to make a stark appearance.

---

I don't think I would've been able to really open my eyes to this distorted relationship with alcohol if it wasn't for a conversation I had with another missionary on the plane home from Mexico City after a mission trip. I knew she was familiar with this and had celebrated being 4 years sober just recently so my heart was drawn into conversation with her. I spilled everything and really got to talk through it all with her. She just casually said, "Well you should just give it up for a semester and see what happens."

My heart dropped. 

Quickly, I replied saying, "I don't think it's really that bad. I mean I don't need to give it up completely......" and in my mind, I knew. She simply replied, "You should ask Jesus what He thinks." About three weeks later, in prayer, I reluctantly brought it to the forefront. I said, "Jesus, you know I'm not an alcoholic. Do I really need to give it up for that long? I have a bachelorette party though! I just need to cut back and make sure I only have 2 drinks at a time." And to this day I can hear His reply so loud in my heart.


"Hannah, do you love Me more than this?"


The only way I can describe the next four months was with one word: freedom. I finally felt like I was the one in control and that alcohol no longer had it's grip on me. I didn't have to get a drink at the bar, even though I really wanted one (or three). I had the opportunity to take a huge step back and really think about why it is that I drink, why do I feel like I have to have a Captain and Coke in my hand to make me feel more comfortable?

After so many years, I understood what Fr. Holdren was saying--alcohol became the jockey without me really noticing. Once I took back the reigns, I realized how much of my life had revolved around it and how instinctively I just drank without understanding why. It took me a swift slap in the face to realize what had been going on all along.


--


I walked out of the confessional and looked at Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. You're right, this isn't me. I stopped and looked at His radiance, His glory, His humility; all exposed for me. I knelt down in front of Him and for what felt like the first time in my life I uttered those words:

Today, I choose You. 

Indeed, man wishes to be happy even when he so lives as to make happiness impossible. 

Saint Augustine

The Beauty of Loneliness

We were all sitting around the table, popcorn half eaten, wine bottle almost empty, finishing up our first summer bible study when I said those fateful words no one ever wants to hear-- let alone speak out loud... "Guys, I'm just lonely." 

My beautiful best friends were sitting around me, one about to have her first baby, the other freshly married and one preparing to get married in a couple of weeks. I just sat there and came to terms with this fact I've been running from for a while. 

I feel lonely. 

We were praying with the Gospel for that day; Jesus walking through the crowd of people following the official whose daughter had just died. When all of the sudden a suffering women of twelve years reaches out as He passes to catch a glimpse of His healing power. But the part that struck me wasn't the fact that He just healed a woman through a tassel on His clothing. Or the mere fact that a Roman official was humbling himself enough to ask Jesus for help. What struck me was that all He did to raise the girl from the dead was take her hand. Did you hear that? This little girl was dead. The crowds were already walking away, singing songs of sorrow, they had given up. Then Jesus walks in and simply took her hand. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing mind blowing. Just a simple touch. 

On the way home, I was driving silently in my car and realized the sting of what I have been feeling. Every woman has this deep soul desire to be pursued, desired by another, wanted, etc., and the list goes on and on and on. I've realized that no one really wants to admit to anyone that they are lonely because that would conjure up sympathetic sighs and awkward encouragements of "you're such a catch though" and "you'll eventually find someone perfect for you." So instead of acknowledging it, we get on Tinder or Bumble and swipe away that dirty "L word". 

That's the reason we're all social media obsessed, right? I cannot even begin to explain the number of times I've found myself deep into wedding or engagement pictures on Instagram for hours trying to avoid the fact that I'm not there yet. I scroll and scroll and then turn off my phone to the stark reality of my singleness. 

We don't allow ourselves to experience reality. 

Why would we? The world around us gives us ample opportunities and even encourages us to get out there and numb yourself. Go to the bar, have a mediocre/drunken conversation, go home with someone, and avoid being lonely for one more night. Tomorrow you can deal with it. 

But in that moment, sitting in the sting of loneliness, I felt Jesus reaching out His hand to me. He wanted me to be like that little girl in the Gospel, to allow Him to wake me up from the dead and walk with Him through this stage of my life. It wasn't that He was taking the pain or sting away, but that He was actually calling me into something deeper. He was transforming this pain and longing into something beautiful and He was asking me to open my eyes to it. To not only accept this loneliness that I am experiencing, but to embrace it--with Him, hand in Hand. He wanted me know that although I may feel lonely, that doesn't mean that I am alone. That the God Who created the Universe wants me to know that He understands what loneliness feels like; four nails on a cross. 

Brothers and sisters, the world is telling you to let go. It is telling you to do whatever you can to make it go away because the world doesn't want you to see the beauty in the hurt. It wants you to avoid suffering at all cost, but let me ask you this...Where would we be if Jesus did that? 

Tonight, I pray for all of you who are reading this and feeling that sting. I pray that you find the purpose in it and know that He is right there with you in all of it, even when it doesn't feel like it. 

Look at the cross. He's been waiting for you there.

To my brother

I want you to know one thing. No matter what anyone says, no matter how much the media tells you lies about yourself, know this--

you are powerful. 

You are so powerful and you don't even know it.

I'm sorry that the world we are living in has made you out to be an uncontrollable sexual beast who can't restrain himself.

I'm sorry that the feminist movement has erased you and your voice from the conversation to make us feel more powerful and heard.

I'm sorry that there are some men out there who take and use and dilapidate the truth of masculinity leaving you to be put into a stereotypical box of "animal".


But you have a choice.



You have the power to break hearts without knowing whose hearts you've broken.

However, you also have a beautifully gentle power. You are capable of healing hearts by your protection, by your true masculinity, by your strength and by your love.


You have the power to break families apart by leaving to "find yourself".

However, your presence has the power of making us feel safe in a world that tells us to stand up for ourselves and be independent of anyone and anything.


You have the power to make a woman feel like an object of lust and use her until you have no more use for her.

However, you also have compassionate power to reveal our own femininity back to us when the world has drown it out. When other men have powerfully taken it away from us.


You have the power to shatter us into a thousand irredeemable pieces and never even know it.

However, you have this indomitable power and strength to quietly and subtly protect us from ourselves and from the Father of Lies who so often gets inside our minds by the touch of your hand.


You have this power because the God of the Universe came down in the form of a man. Taking on our flesh to model for us how to protect, heal, love and remind us of our genuine identity.

He came into a broken world and healed it by stretching out His arms and showing us what love looks like.

I don't think you are told this enough, so as your sister I want to remind you:

You have the magnificent, breathtaking and awe-inspiring power to change the world...

because it has changed mine. 

Attainable Sanctity

Happy feast of All Saints day! I don't know why but today's feast seems more significant to me now than it ever has before. Growing up, All Saints day was three things:
     1) The day after Halloween where you eat as much candy as your mom lets you
     2) The day everyone at school dresses up as a Saint and you have a lame parade
     3) The beginning of the countdown to Thanksgiving.
And even though these are all good things, this year something is different. Oddly enough, I feel like today I get to celebrate all of my friends. You've now probably written me off as a crazy loner who has imaginary friends that are saints. Wrong. I just realized that today feels different because it is the first time in my life that my goal is to become a Saint. Sainthood never really seemed attainable to me, nor did it seem like anything that was possible or normal girls from Lincoln, Nebraska. It was such an abstract concept and they were just people I prayed to when I needed to win a volleyball game or when I lost my keys for the 25th time.

    When started learning more about them, I saw how each of them had a uniquely personal story of their encounter with God and how they heard His call in their lives. I started to notice their stories sounding more and more like my own. They came from towns big and small, all around the world, from good families and bad families and had every struggle you can name. But just like St. Jose Maria Escriva says, "A Saint is a sinner who keeps trying." That is what sets their lives apart from every other good man or woman who has ever lived. At some point, they let God take over. Be it at 14 or 74, they not only listened to his call...but they responded. Some did this in a radical way like giving up family wealth and going out into the desert. Others did it by small yes's everyday that one day changed a city in India.

    Maybe our call to sanctity doesn't mean giving up our lives to preach the gospel in foreign countries (if it does, by all means do that.) It might not mean entering a convent and living a cloistered life (again, if it does please do that.) But I think for most of us, the call to sanctity is waking up in the morning, asking God what He wants of us that day and doing it. Maybe that means He is asking you to be a missionary (I know of this pretty cool organization 😉). Or maybe it means offering up a small suffering for someone who needs it.

Whatever it may be, listen and respond. 

We serve an incredible God Who desperately wants to spend eternity in heaven with us. But eternity begins with your choices today. And one day may we be one of those "wearing white robes, holding palm branches in our hands," (Rev. 7:9) Maybe one day, November 1st will be our feast day too. 

All you holy men and women, Angels and saints of God....... pray for us. 

this is not a job.

This is the Golden Question... "What does a normal day look like to you?" I just have to laugh because using the word normal to explain any part of our lives is comical to me. However, it is a valid question and I want to give a valid answer. Please read on if you actually want to know what a day in the life of a missionary. If not, skip down beneath the line.

I wake up around 7:30 am (let's be honest...my alarm was set for 7:30 but I didn't get out of bed until 8 am). I walk downstairs to make a pot of coffee and see that one of my roommates is working out in our living room with a student who lives down the street. My other roommate is meeting with a student on our porch. I start the coffeepot, run upstairs to get dressed and grab my coffee on the way out to meet up with a girl who I have invited to bible study for two weeks. She only has 30 minutes in between her classes so I jump on my bike and race to the Union to meet her. After meeting with her, I invite her to join me for mass at noon--which she does. Afterwards, I walk downstairs to eat lunch in the Newman cafeteria. I try to find some new people that I've never met before and I sit down at a table with a girl who has her sorority letters on her necklace. We make conversation and I find out that she's a transfer student living at Newman who is in a sorority. I invite her to come to the bible study I'm having later that afternoon and she says she will see if she's free. Once I finish lunch, I go into one of the study rooms to prep bible study for that afternoon. After spending an hour or so prepping, I go to meet another student at the Quad to go on a rosary walk and talk about her prayer life and her bible study. While walking on the Quad, we stop and talk to a woman sitting by herself and introduce ourselves. She's Muslim and is celebrating one of their holidays this weekend. We ask her if she's ever been into a Catholic church and she hadn't, so we invite her to come to St. John's with us and show her around. She was amazed and thanked us for showing her around--we told her she is always welcome here. That afternoon is bible study and afterward I run home and have a date with my guitar #datingfast. Right when I get home, three students knock on our door and want to come over and hang out. I keep my guitar out and we sit around and share life, talk about our days, play some guitar and at about midnight we call it a night.

I don't have a time card that I punch after a certain amount of hours that tells me I'm "off the clock." I can't go home and lay on the couch and leave work at work. Sixteen hour days are the norm. I'm not in an office, secluded from the world, just trying to get through the day so I can get to the weekend just to start it all over again the next week. No, this is not a job. I don't get an hourly wage that I can get overtime for if I need it that week. 

This is not a job. 

This is my life. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

June 1, 2015 was the first time I ever really understood what "missionary life" meant--the day I started as a FOCUS missionary. I didn't necessary fully realize what I was signing up for but I knew that this is what God called me to and my past has told me He knows what's up better than I do. I figured, "I can do anything for two years. Let's do this, God." But what I didn't realize was that my whole life would change. Literally.

I didn't want to have to ask people to support me financially--who wants to live fully dependent on other people's tithing? Our world, culture, and sometimes families tell us you work hard for your money and you put in the hours to get the paycheck. We are living counter-culturally (even biblically if you wanna go there) in asking other people to partner with us in this mission and support us as we share the Gospel.

Home was no longer a place but more of a foreign concept that I couldn't really put my finger on. When I moved to Champaign, I was homesick. I was longing for that place that I knew everyone and everyone knew me. I wanted to be back with my family and to be with people who knew my life and  understood where I was coming from. As the year went on, however, I started living life and creating memories with the people around me. The strangers quickly became my family and I was going through all of these changes with them and not the people I had been with for the last several years. I was feeling things that I didn't really understand but I was figuring it out with the students I became friends with, my team, and our priests and religious sisters. Soon enough, the people who I was closest with in Nebraska (my family and friends) no longer understood my everyday life and talking to them made that apparent. I could explain things on the phone but I couldn't explain in words the loneliness I felt while being surrounded with people, or the excitement I got when one girl finally came to bible study after three months. Or the stressfulness in planning a mission trip to Rome over spring break because I suck at details and felt like the world was on my shoulders. But Anne Marie was there when I just needed to break down in our one-on-one meeting because I didn't understand why no one understood. Honor was there to just listen to me talk about my friends even though she had no idea who they were or what was going on. Teresa was there to play volleyball with on a Sunday night because I missed playing with my sister. Kanji was there to listen to me when I just needed a guy's perspective on my crazy thoughts and ideas. MK was there to bring back the "sorority girl" in me when I was missing my own memories in Gamma Phi. Brad was there to teach me that dang B minor chord when I just wanted to give up and skip it (I still haven't gotten it but I promise...this year...). Thomas was there to let me crash his 11 PM holy hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament when the only thing I needed was to sit in front of the One who just knew.

These people became my friends. They became the ones I made memories with and the ones I laughed with on a daily basis. And soon, a piece of my heart got stuck in Champaign, Illinois and I started calling it home. All the while still longing to be back in Nebraska.

After countless plane rides, conferences, trainings, weddings, holidays, etc., I realized that not even "home" feels like home anymore. My heart is so restless and I just want to scream because I'm so desperately wanting to feel settled without really knowing what that even means. I see my friends settling into their new apartments with their fiancé's and dogs and finally getting in the groove of their new jobs. They have a home. And yet, I'm out here living day by day, looking for the next person God is going to put in front of me that He needs me to encounter. I have no idea what today holds, let alone what next year holds for me.

I'm starting to realize that the moment I became a missionary, home became heaven.

And my heart will always be restless until it rests with You, my Lord and my God. So take this heart of mine wherever You desire it to be. I am your missionary for the rest of my life. Lead me in Your way and even though I desire with my whole heart to be settled and living a comfortable life, I know now that I was not made for comfort. Take me to the ends of the earth if that's where You will be--because I only desire You and nothing more.

how Mercy found me.

We always talk about how Jesus goes out of His way to meet people where they are at. There are many examples of Him physically going out of His way to meet people along the road (i.e. The woman at the well, Jesus and Zacchaeus, the lost sheep, etc). I always read these stories and that part never really meant anything to me. Okay, so Jesus knew that someone needed His help so He went a few steps out of His way to meet a woman and change her life forever and then she converts her entire town--big deal. Once I actually looked into it more, I realized that He didn't just go a couple of steps out of His way to meet these people. He went miles and miles out of His way into foreign lands where He shouldn't have been to meet these people--these sinners. And yet He did it without hesitation. He did it without them asking for it. He did it without them even noticing. 

I never really understood what "God's Mercy" was growing up. I knew the Divine Mercy chaplet and the image of blood and water coming from Jesus' heart. I knew that His mercy was there, I just never really needed it *facepalm*. Until I realized I did. 

There are times in all of our lives where we hit rock bottom. That's not a new thing in the Christian life--everyone has been there. We all know how bad sin hits us and yet we keep going back to it thinking it will satisfy us. Well, that is where my story with Mercy begins. 

Going into my senior year of college, I was so excited to come back to campus at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I had just got done with an internship in Texas and I just knew in my heart that God was calling me to be a missionary with FOCUS. The summer was filled with so many moments where God was so close to me and revealed Himself very evidently in my life. As the first few weeks of school began, my prayer was changing a little. I didn't really 'feel' much during prayer and I didn't have this desire in my heart to run to the chapel everyday like I had in Texas. Afterwards, I would walk out of the chapel thinking, "Maybe tomorrow." But then the next day I made up an excuse and didn't make it to the chapel. I figured, "God, I'm putting the effort in and You aren't giving me anything so I'm not doing it anymore. If you want me, You'll have to figure it out yourself." After a few months of trying to find this intimacy with God that came so easily in Texas, I gave up. I stopped praying, I stopped going to daily mass, I just stopped. 

I felt like I was the only one in control of my intimacy with God. He had nothing to do with it. Let me tell you something, knowing your own human weakness and feeling like your intimacy with God depends solely on you might be the most sinking feeling in the world. I went from drinking one night a weekend to all three nights every weekend. The 'hook-up culture' became a normal part of my life and there were many mornings I woke up never wanting to drink again--then doing it all over again the next weekend. In the midst of all of this, I still knew God wanted me to be a missionary. I applied in November and got hired in December. That threw a whole new wrench into things. The devil came slyly into my heart telling me I wasn't worthy of spreading God's love when I didn't even feel loved myself. I was slowly getting into the mindset that my worth came from who was paying attention to me or who liked me. Nothing else. 

Fast forward to FOCUS summer training in June. Let's just say, I knew a lot of healing had to happen before I got to campus and started telling women that their identity is in Christ. I had to first realize that for myself. About three weeks into training, we had a retreat weekend. I went on a retreat called a Spiritual Impact Bootcamp and in adoration was when I met Mercy for the first time. After going to an intense confession, I went back to my spot and put my head down. I did my penance, and took a deep breath. I looked up and saw Christ in the monstrance and behind was a HUGE image of the Divine Mercy shown behind Him. 

It wasn't the fact that Jesus was mega life-size. It wasn't His eyes that seemed to be looking directly at me no matter where I went and it wasn't even the streams of blood and water flowing from His heart. It wasn't any of that. It was His foot. He wasn't just standing stationary waiting for me to come to Him. He wasn't waiting there until I had everything figured out to run into His arms, perfectly pure, whole and worthy. No. He was coming to me. He was the one taking a step toward me and going out of His way to come find me amidst my brokenness, amidst my failures, amidst this darkness that felt like it was overtaking me. I was the woman at the well that Jesus came miles and miles out of His way to find and show His Mercy. 

I didn't have to find Mercy, Mercy found me. 

This was the first time I realized that it wasn't only me in this fight for His love. He had been running after me the entire time. That small step forward in the Divine Mercy image overcame me like a huge wave of emotion and I realized that all those times that I was hungover on the bathroom floor, all those times I went into the chapel and didn't feel anything, all those times I found comfort in some random person at the bar--He was right there. It was then that I came to realize that Mercy isn't about me. It's not about what I have or haven't done, it's not about how far I have fallen, how many times I have sinned, how many times I went to mass or how often I prayed. It didn't matter if I called out to God in those times of darkness or if I ignored Him. All that mattered was the very moment that I knew He was chasing after me the entire time. 

Six months later, Pope Francis declared this year the Year of Mercy. Fitting, huh?! 

What is the Year of Mercy?  

"During this special period of time in the Church, Pope Francis calls all Catholics to be profound witnesses to mercy and to "find the joy rediscovering and rendering fruitful God's mercy, with which we are all called to give comfort to every man and every woman of our time."  - yearofmercy.org

I don't think there is a more perfect time in history than now for a year of learning about, seeking after, or understanding God's Mercy. Something that goes along with the Year of Mercy was Pope Francis blessing a door at St. Peter's Basilica naming it the Holy Door of Mercy.

Why the Holy Door of Mercy? 

"To experience and obtain the Indulgence, the faithful are called to make a brief pilgrimage to the Holy Door, open in every Cathedral or in the churches designated by the Diocesan Bishop, and in the four Papal Basilicas in Rome, as a sign of the deep desire for true conversion." -Pope Francis

Now, going back to the "He's been chasing after me the entire time" part of the story. I never really understood how this correlated with the Year of Mercy and the doors of Mercy until I went on a pilgrimage to Rome this past Holy Week. I knew what a Holy Door was, we have one in our Newman Center that I pass through every day. But its significance never really hit me that hard. What's an indulgence anyway??? 

That's beside the point. As I went to Rome, I knew that we would be going through all of the Holy Doors in the four major Basilicas. What I didn't realize was how many other doors of mercy we would pass through (I think 15 or 16 total). This just reminded me of how God's Mercy really does work. We know that it's there, but we don't really think about it all too often. We only think about it when we need it. But God's Mercy is truly reflected in all of these Holy Doors that we passed through. All I had to do was make the pilgrimage there (that's a whole different blog post in and of itself) to allow God to bring me to all of these Holy Doors of Mercy. All I had to do was open my heart a tiny, tiny bit to allow Mercy Himself to flood my very being. That's how God works. He made us human and He knows that we are human and we fail at everything. But through that humanness He allows us to glorify Him. 

And so, I stood at the Holy Door of Mercy--I stood before Mercy Himself--to show my gratitude, to show my acceptance and to show my devotion to Him with a kiss.