Miracles.
Places where people are actually healed and abandoned crutches paint the walls; saints whose bodies do not decompose; Eucharistic hosts that have bled or even transformed into a piece of heart flesh.

How is that not cool?
Weird, but really cool.

The Shroud of Turin? Oh my word. The science alone is boggling.

I am only more recently realizing that most people think these things are nutty or even macabre, but yes, I totally love it. It reminds me that the veil between heaven and earth is not as great as it seems.

Needless to say, I could talk your ear off about pilgrimages.

There aren’t many opportunities to go visit such things in America, yet on occasion, a relic (holy thing) will go on tour. A pilgrimage on wheels, if you will.
 
Recently, the incorrupt heart of St. Jean Vianney came through California.
He was a French priest who died in 1859. The heart does not decay.

“Why is it black?” was the first question I got from Therese.
I appreciate her reaction. It is childlike, honest, curious, and even a little skeptical.
Because truly, the whole thing is a bit weird.

Biblically, objects have been shown as instruments of healing. Handkerchiefs of Paul touching those who were sick or possessed and healing them (Acts 9), the corpse of a man meeting the prophet Elisha's bones and coming back to life (2 Kings 13), the hemorrhaging woman being cured by reaching out to Jesus' cloak (Matthew 9). These things worked as a channel for something profound.

Catholics are strict about respecting the dead, and especially in keeping them buried. It seems more than odd that as soon as a person is canonized we throw it all out the window. Yet, as bizarre as it is, I have only witnessed honor and respect for these parts. They are displayed for hope, for healing, for conversion. And in a riveting way continue to be signs pointing to Christ.

My own experience during the visit was quiet. It was fascinating to see a human heart, ordinary and preserved on a divine whim. It was a simple moment. I was reminded of His love, that I am good, that I am His. I left refreshed, grateful.
 
And this is truly why I go, why pilgrimages touch me. I absolutely need to be reminded of love. It helps me to continue on with the basic things: diaper changing, driving to appointments, kissing booboos, facing my own weak humanness. I need this reminder that heaven is close, that Christ is real, and that the manner in which I live and love right now matters.

"How do you do it? How do you get through it all?"
 
I, somehow, am frequently met with this question. Usually it is in regard to a spouse being away, but it also pops up for long seasons of misery. At first, it seemed a bit absurd for anyone to ask me, let alone expect an answer packed with wisdom. Yes, I have encountered some nasty times, some impossible periods…but could I mete out advice on the matter?
 
Maybe, maybe not.

Death, deployments, illness, moves, depression, anxiety, living abroad, chronic injury, single parenting… yet I feel like we could all make these kinds of lists. We all are a wreck and trying to make it through this crazy life.
 
I perceive all of this. I know I am not an expert. I don’t have every answer. But I have pushed through some madness. I have endured and learned ways to cope.
That is something.  
 
So with that, take what helps and ignore the rest. I merely offer you the small truths that I have benefited from, hoping that something can also help you.

1.  Gentleness to Self
I expect insane amounts from myself, and I push myself doggedly to achieve it all. Then… well, then when I inevitably fail, I name myself as a failure. And swim in shame.
It is a really fun cycle.
 
But I’ve started, during difficult periods, to try to look at my life from the outside.
I try to offer myself the same amount of understanding I would grant to another in my shoes. Sometimes I ask myself, “How would I treat my sister if she were in the middle of this mess that I am?” Then, I can breathe a bit more.. Because I would never expect perfection from a mother of three children, husband usually away on work, moving to a new city and friendless every two years. I wouldn’t get on her case because her house is a mess and her kids are eating lunch meat and toast for dinner. I would offer her compassion. I would offer her help. I would make her cookies and tell her she is rocking life.

2.  The daily 20 minute Whatever-Makes-Me-Feel-Human
To some, this is as simple as a daily shower, to another it is a coffee with a book, to yet another, it is a walk. The important thing is that it rejuvenates, or at least grants a breath in the chaos.

3. Exercise
I am not Susie Workout, but there is certainly something about getting my body moving. I can't run anymore after a foot injury, but I've found that even a 20 minute walk can turn my whole day right.

5.  Say No
When I am having a difficult season, the last thing I need is busyness and extra work. There is a time for volunteering for a class field trip. There is a time for signing up to host the neighborhood for Christmas festivities at your house. There is a time to be the secretary of the golf club. It ain’t now, at least if it is going to leave me strained and not able to focus on my own family.
There is an element of helping others that can center a person, but if it is just adding more to an already heaping plate? Nope, shut it down.

7. The Basics
Water, sleep, food.
Dehydration, too much caffeine, eating junk, burning the candle at both ends—all of these things make me feel like a monster. I’ve found that simple self-care is huge, and can be the deciding point for if I'm winning or the Out-To-Get-Me-Universe is.

Sometimes it doesn’t seem like there could possibly be a silver lining to a suffering. A father’s death, depression, chronic health problems. These don’t scream balloons and butterflies, yet often looking for the good helps me. During my miscarriage, I was grateful for all the love and support of my neighborhood, for getting closer to my friends Lisa and Rebecca, for the gentleness of my sweet Clare helping me while I labored. It doesn’t take away the suffering, but it does help my heart to accept the moment with greater patience.

9. Therapy
There is a strange societal stigma with seeing a counselor. I think it's bunk. I wouldn’t refuse to see a medical doctor if I needed antibiotics. It is equally as silly to avoid a therapist when I have death/depression/whatever to work through. I've seen a handful over the last fifteen years for varying reasons. Each has been transforming.

About three years ago, a friend mentioned that her entire family changed when her mother decided to start seeing a counselor. There was suddenly joy, peace, health.
At the time I was in a terrible rut of depression, and this snapped me awake. I took a deep breath, pulled on my big girl panties, and began counseling. I continued for about 6 months. It was difficult, but the best choice for me—and my family. Taking care of my stuff helped me to be a better mother, friend, sister, you name it.

I typically get one sheet and try to fill it front and back, shredding it afterwards. It astonishes me how much I can finally let go of things once I do this. I told a friend once it was 'cursing for closure.' It takes time, but at least I can live after I've done it.

I hope that something here has given you help or consolation, even if it is just a reminder of how awesome Calvin & Hobbes is.
If you have any other suggestions, please share! I am always ready to learn new ways to make it to the other side.

And if you are suffering right now, I'm sending a good thought your way.
If it means anything, I am thankful for every single season of suffering. I am more joyful and alive now because of them. They've deepened me. They've matured me. Suffering, strangely, has made me more human. And I don't believe that this is a circumstance limited only to myself