Like many couples, I'm guessing, we toss around baby names a lot.  Every occasion is an opportunity to add to our very short list of agreed-upon names - maybe *this* wedding/party/TV show will reveal that one name we both love, since we haven't found many otherwise.  They're always to boring, too out there, too common, too reminiscent of a video game character (looking at you. love).  Neither of us is more to blame - we take equal opportunities to shoot down the other's latest suggestion.  Since marriage, this has made me nervous.  What if, when a baby finally came along, we simply could not agree?  What if I hated every name and resented my child for a stupid name his father gave him (because let's face it, MY name suggestions are awesome).

But sitting in the ER six days ago, as the words "You have an ectopic pregnancy, do you know what that is?" rushed through my ears, I didn't care if we named our child after a wildflower or a crustacean.
Safe.
I want our baby to be safe.

And he is - just not where I want him.  He's not snuggled in my belly, pushing aside my organs to make space.  Instead, there's blood in those spaces, and they've cut me open to salvage what's left.  They've taken our baby and he's ... gone.  Safe in God's hands, but out of ours.

We approached the name conversation hesitantly, scared of shooting each other down in our vulnerability.  But we found we had unknowingly chosen the same name - one that we had never even discussed before.

When it came down to it, the name itself didn't really matter.  But if Naming is claiming one as our own, then what a joy to name our little William Michael.

Rest with God, our little one.  We'll snuggle you in heaven.

As we look back over the last year, we cannot help but be grateful for all the blessings we have experienced.  We can say for certain that it was not a dull first year of marriage!

After returning from a relaxing honeymoon in Aruba, we celebrated the holidays with our families, then just as the new year was beginning, our apartment flooded! Thankfully, we only lost some of the items we had moved in just a few weeks earlier.  We will never doubt the need for renters insurance again!

Writing is something I've greatly missed over the past year.  While I am glad I took a little break to focus on other priorities, it's time to refocus on writing once again!  I hope to share more over the coming weeks about what I have in mind for this space.  I hope you join me, especially if you've been waiting around for a while, wondering if I'd ever come back :) 

Three days ago, I committed to doing Emily Ley's "Simplicity Challenge" - clearing one area of my home a day, in an effort to simplify our lives for this coming year.  As I began to clear things out, I listed a few items on a resale site and one was purchased.​

Two mornings ago, I pulled the pork out of the freezer, ready to do meal prep when I got home from work.  I signed up for a "30-minute challenge" to help me detox from phone use, and downloaded an app to track how much time I spent using technology each day.  I planned to mail out the item I had sold the day before.

Tuesday evening, I stopped at the store for some groceries, ready to whip out dinner not only for that night, but for the rest of the week.

And then I got home.

I walked into our apartment to find our furniture covered in plastic and water streaming down our walls, one of my pots catching drips on the counter and a plastic bin (previously storage for summer clothes) catching a stream in the closet.

Clearly, all my plans went down the drain. (insert clever water pun here)

Now that the initial chaos is over and I've had a few days to sleep, eat, and distractedly step back into work, I've also had a few moments to think.  I think back 72 hours to that second of walking in my door, not knowing what was salvageable, if anything.

Perhaps many of us have had that thought: "If my house was on fire, what would I grab before running out the door?"  If you've seen Leap Year, you'll remember the scene that was the test of a relationship.  I knew my husband was safe at work, and that I had more than one minute to gather my things, but the first things I thought of?  The letters Christopher wrote me as part of my wedding gift.  The scrapbook I made him as his gift.  And our wedding photos, memorializing the most important day of our lives.

Thankfully, all those things were safe, as were most of our belongings.  We'll be out of our home for a week as our carpets and drywall are restored, and most of our clothes are being cleaned for the next month.  I won't get to mail out that item I sold, and my seller rating will probably go down.  The pork is now sitting in my mom's fridge, and I've used my phone for 3 hours so far today, calling insurance and banking and apartment management.

But ultimately, I don't care about my rating or these challenges.  We're safe, and those "what if" items are safe, and we're having a crazy adventure suddenly living out of suitcases for a week.

So Happy New Year.  Happy sudden-end-to-personal-challenges.  And happy real life, no filter, true as can be marriage.  It may be nothing like the movies, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

 Is there any easy way to transition back to real life after 9 days in paradise?

This is the very honest question I've been asking myself for the last couple days, as I prepared to come home from a 9-day honeymoon in Aruba.  Our time there was relaxing, refreshing, & invigorating.  We laughed more than we have in a long time, learned more about each other's habits and quirks, and ultimately realized we were very ready and excited to tackle whatever "real life" had in store for us back home.

But today, as I opened my work inbox after 14 days away to find 132 unread messages that needed responses yesterday, I felt nothing but overwhelmed.  I sat in this library, staring at old issues of Vogue and Washingtonian (because who's had time to begin internet services at home recently?) and wondered why I thought that taking so much time off was a good idea.  Why was it worth it to lose so many hours of work time?

Because you just got married, my mind reminded me.  Because you're beginning a new life in a new home with a new identity.  Because what matters in the long run is your Vocation - the one you began just 12 short days ago.

These things are true.  And what I realized is that there is no easy way to transition from single to married, from honeymoon-vacation to work-reality.  Not when you have 2 people's laundry to catch up on, and dinner to make all of a sudden, and an apartment to make feel homey despite the still-white walls.  The addition of parishioner emails informing me that our newsletter is more pathetic than that other parish's is just the cherry on top.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still excited for these new beginnings.  I'm still excited to go fold our laundry and figure out what to make for when my husband (!) returns home from work tonight and to do a little grocery shopping trip.  But these changes and beginnings are bittersweet: they bring with them a loss of "me", a realization of how selfish I am, and the necessity for vulnerability - all of which are the average human's least favorite things.

So we'll work together on becoming a family: on losing ourselves in gaining each other, and on better learning how to serve and be served.

I've given and received quite a number of toasts in the last few weeks, but here's another: here's to new beginnings.  Here's to sharing closets and bathroom sinks.  Here's to crashing to reality and allowing the parachute of spouse to catch you.  And here's to growing in the vocation of love, daily, through the ordinary monotony of life.

Dear Rosa:
Countless times, I've planned to write to you once more.  And just as many times, I've convinced myself not to.
"There's too much to say.  Too much I don't know how to explain.  Where do I begin?"

You see, God's been flipping tables on me a lot in the last, well, year and a half.  Since January of 2015, there have been so many things that I've been convicted of, moved to change, and then received a very clear message: "stop."  And so I have.  I've stopped, reassessed, and waited.

Sometimes that waiting gets tiring.
Sometimes I wish that I could have a life like hers, or hers, or his, plugging away at work, just doing the everyday tasks, with no curveballs thrown in.
Sometimes I forget that there's a Divine Plan so much bigger than my own.

About 9 months ago now, I packed up my things and moved to a seminary outside Chicago.  I was going to study the Liturgy to become a Liturgist, and I was going to experience this adventure of living as the solitary woman on a campus full of 220 men discerning the priesthood.  I settled in and I learned a lot, but it was mostly personal growth.  I wrote papers and read encyclicals, yes, but I also prayed, questioned, pleaded, and sought.  And I gradually came to realize that I was sent there not to complete 2 years of a master's degree, but instead to complete an accelerated course in listening, trusting, and praying.  

That realization was a difficult one.  I'd taken a leap of faith in moving, and once more I had to take a leap of faith as I left, rather suddenly, in the middle of the semester, with no credits to my name and no job to head home to.  Somehow, as I packed and said my goodbyes to the friends I'd made, I found an abundance of peace in the knowledge that the Lord was leading me to something better than I ever could have planned for myself.

Do I regret going?  Not for a second.  Do I wish it had happened another way?  Not really.  Does it seem like a waste?
​Sometimes, yes.

It's challenging to wrap my mind around the fact that it took such a large change to uproot my convictions of what my "life plan" would look like.  It's difficult to acknowledge to myself and those I encounter that yes, I did indeed drop out of grad school.  It's humbling to know that the Lord knew such a wake up call would be necessary in order to reach my stubborn heart.

Life hasn't slowed down a bit since I left Chicago last October.  I still wonder how God expects me to get it all done.  And sometimes, it feels like I'm drowning a little bit.  But then I remind myself that if I can move to a strange city with no friends and begin a program at a school with only men, I can probably take on a stressful day at work.

So what am I up to now, Rosa?  I'm reading books, writing letters, and KonMari-ing my sock drawer.  I'm traveling for weddings and pilgrimages, editing textbooks, and learning how to pay utility bills.  I'm working at a parish, learning how to trust God even more through both the minutiae and the ground-shaking changes.

​But above all, I'm allowing my heart to grow and shift and change for the next thing that the Lord places in my path, whatever and whenever that may be.
Vivi d'Amore,
​Allison

It's been 5 weeks.  5 weeks since I drove across 5 states and moved into a little room in a seminary.  Since getting here, I've taken copious amounts of notes, committed to 3 jobs, made friends, and learned the area.  Now I'm a third of the way done with my first semester, and that's super difficult to believe.

My classes are going well so far.  I'm being pushed to think about things differently and to expand my views.  It still feels a bit funny to only be taking 4 classes for 10 credits... I'm certainly not complaining, but it is taking some getting used to.  I have a midterm exam coming up this week, so I suppose that will be the first test of how things are actually going.  Pray for me!  It'll be a hard one!

Yes.  3 jobs.  Each one fell into my lap naturally and plays to my talents.  I'm using different skills in each of them, so I'm never bored.  And the schedules all work out perfectly, so I'm working about 20 hours a week; I'm used to that schedule from my senior year at Franciscan.

One of the best parts of living on campus is getting to know the people here.  My classmates are wonderful and it's been great to get to know them, and the fact that I make food hasn't hurt, either :)  We all have different backgrounds and interests, and each bring a different view to the forefront.  I love being able to have discussions in class that carry over into our lunch and dinner conversations.  Concepts easily flow into discussion which then gets put into practice through the Masses and times of prayer we have together each day.  It's a fluid way of life, making work, study, and prayer grow in and through the others.

And the area.  Oh, the area.  Illinois is a different world than Virginia and Ohio.  (obviously.  I wasn't really expecting it to be the same.)  But it's been fun and a little frustrating to have to learn a whole new area.  My first few days were spent driving aimlessly around the surrounding towns and trying to make my way back to campus without a GPS.  I failed more times than I'd like to admit, but I have finally learned where things are.  I'm still confused by the 3 Targets and 38 Starbucks and 57 Dunkin Donuts, but at least I know they exist.  I think I've found a parish to join, and I have a library card (cue library card song), so I can't really ask for more than that!  The only thing left is to find a young adult group, but I'm fairly positive that as fall hits us, groups will become more active.

[sidenote: Illinois likes a lot of one-way parking lots.  They throw me off every single time.]
[sidenote 2: It was über complicated to get a library card, and after all the trouble, I had to register separately at each library I want to use!  I now have a great appreciation for my local Virginia library system... it's so easy!]

All in all, its been a good start to my time here.  This upcoming week, I'm looking forward to fall break, during which I'll visit with good friends, see my family, and even write a 15-page paper.  It will be nice to get away for a bit, but it'll be just as nice to have a beautiful campus to come back to.

Dear Rosa,
I took my usual walk this evening.  I’ve found that it brings rhythm and regularity and peace and calm to my otherwise topsy-turvy, thrown-everywhere days.  Tonight, everything within me told me not to take a walk, that I should stay inside and do homework instead.  But I fought those thoughts and ventured outside, clutching my rosary as per usual.

I’ve prayed more rosaries in the last week than I have in the last three months.  I’ve never been a rosary girl.  I’ll be the first to admit that needs to change, but you don’t just get ‘into’ the rosary overnight.  But even though I still haven’t learned to love it, I’ve learned that I *need* it.  I need the familiarity.  I need the feeling of the beads slipping through my fingers.  I need to make my deepest petitions known to someone who understands the cry of the heart.

The air was still stuffy as I made my way through the garden towards the dock.  Night one of being here I staked out ‘my spot’, right on the water, as far out into the lake as you can get while still being on solid ground.  And as I settled myself against a pillar to pray decade two, I closed my eyes to the darkness.  Not just the darkness of the fading foggy skies, but the swirling questions that batter against the weary shutters of my mind.  Heart-deep questions which threaten to beat me into submission.

My rosary continued its round about my hands and eventually, I looked up again.  The skies were darker.  The questions remained.  But there was a calm amidst the storm which hadn’t been present moments before.

Sara Bareilles calls it like it is:

But here’s the kicker: on that horizon is a beautiful sunset and new places to be discovered.  And in this time of exploration and finding new places, you’ll also find yourself.  

I think everyone needs to be an island for a bit.  It’s this time of self-discovery which forms us and makes us who we are meant to be.  It’s terrifying to stand on our own two feet and not know where to turn, but its those steps that follow that determine our trajectory, the strokes in the water that aim us towards the mainland.

And if an evening walk can lock these lessons in and make the horizon approach more rapidly, so be it.

Vivi d'Amore,
Allison

Dear Rosa,

Just wanted to jot off a quick note before I dive into homework for the day.  I thought you may be interested in some "statistics" from the week!

Number of Classes: 4
Days I have Classes: 2 (Wednesday and Thursday)
Total Number of Classmates: 6
(Average) Ratio of Priests to Laity at Mass: 6 to 5
Ratio of Male to Female Professors: 2 to 2
Ratio of Ordained to Lay Professors: 2 to 2
Pages of Notes Taken: 16
Number of Times I've Slept Past 7:30 Since Arriving: 0
Number of Masses Attended in 6 Days: 6
Number of Hilarious Dinner Conversations: 2
Number of Dinners involving discussion of Philosophy: 4
Number of Times I've Questioned Being Here: 1
Number of Times I've Been Incredibly Grateful for Being Here: too many to count

Pray for me!  Today and tomorrow are full of homework and reading.
Vivi d'Amore,
Allison