The shrine at Knock, Ireland.Youth 2000 in Walsingham, England.
and another.
I went to a very important first communion,
With Natalie in Chapel HIll, NC.
and became a godmother one more time.
With Teresa in Enid, OK.
I visited two oceans,
Atlantic Ocean (Ireland)Pacific Ocean (California with girlfriends from high school)
did Easter right,
At Notre Dame–there’s nothing like it.
and laughed a whole lot.
Crosby, MN. It’s actually the best.
I visited a lot of friends,
Matt Talbot (Dublin), Jean de Brebeuf and Gabriel Lalemant (Canada), Maria Goretti (Texas), Francis Xavier Seelos (New Orleans). Among others.
marveled at the faith of children,
Cecilia is a Dominican nun. John Paul is celebrating the Easter Vigil, complete with 7 readings.
and tried to share their passion for the Lord with the world.
With Katherine in Atlanta.
I didn’t spend nearly enough time with this crowd
but spent a lot of time here (or the equivalent).
Somewhere near Houston.
God is very good, friends. I really mean it when I say that none of this could happen without your prayerful support. I am absolutely indebted to you and more grateful than you can know.
I ran into some friends at Mass today and suggested that we get breakfast afterwards.
“But nowhere in a strip mall,” I cautioned. “We can’t park on Black Friday.”
They suggested Panera, which I pointed out was across from Best Buy, where you’ll find some of the worst Black Friday mania. I argued fruitlessly and finally insisted that we take one car so that when there was no parking we could stay together.
The lot was maybe a quarter full. Turns out Black Friday isn’t really a thing in Hollywood, Maryland.
If you’re anything like me, you’re avoiding malls like the plague today. That doesn’t keep your post-Thanksgiving mind from turning to Christmas shopping, though. And while I’m not so great at giving presents in general, I am pretty good when it comes to sacred gifts. So if you’ve got people on your list who love the Lord and want to love him more, read on!
For kids:
If you’re a parent or a godparent (or an aunt or a family friend or whatever), your job is to get these little ones to heaven. I’m pretty convinced that (aside from teaching them to pray) storytelling and holy play are the ways to do it. So buy them incredible books (these are my favorites) and holy toys and teach them the wonder of a life following God.
My hands down, bar-none, buy-every-one-you-can-get favorites are my friend Lindsey’s beautiful blocks. I’ve told you about them before but she’s made some great improvements! Now the crafty among you can order the images and make your own blocks at a dramatic savings–if you get 12 people together for an order, each of you can make a full set1 for only $16.33 plus the cost of wood and shellac. That’s insane! She’s also got a great wooden Mass kit for your kids who like to play Mass.2 And from now through Monday, if you write Ora pro Papa in the notes section of your order (and pray for the Pope) you’ll get a free block! Hurry–last year she had to close her shop by December 8th and you don’t want to miss out.3
For book lovers:
For intellectuals:
My favorite book (yes, that is a terrifying thing to say, but I think it’s true) is On Being Catholic by Thomas Howard. His vocabulary is so ridiculous that I keep a dictionary close at hand when I read it, but it’s just beautiful. It’s the love letter of a convert to his Church and an excellent choice for someone who already loves being Catholic or a Protestant who’s open to learning more. It’s not hard-hitting apologetics, just poetry with truth at its heart.
For people who want to be saints:
My next favorite is The Practice of the Love of Jesus Christ by St. Alphonsus Liguori (you can actually get it for 99 cents on Kindle but do be sure to get this translation). This book is so beautiful and challenging that I can’t read more than 5 minutes without needing to stop and pray. I once quit reading this book because I didn’t want to finish it but I missed it too much so when I did finish it I just started over again from the beginning. Buy it for yourself immediately, then throw a copy for a friend in, too.
For people who want to know the Saints:
I’m kind of obsessed with the Saints, which you probably know if you listen to my podcast at all. I’ve been getting more and more into them but my desperate love of them was really spurred on by these books: Modern Saints (volumes 1and 2) by Ann Ball. I’ve been recommending them left, right, and center because the stories are short and well-written–to the point that I really have trouble putting them down.4 Anyone who likes Saints or stories or history should love these, and at 6 bucks used, what’s not to like?
For lovers of fiction:
The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas changed the way I pray, the way I speak, the way I evangelize. It was responsible for this post and for the best rosary of my life. It’s a novelized story of the centurion who crucified Jesus and what he suffered and learned afterwards and it’s simply captivating. The stories of the Gospel have never been so alive for me.
For parents:
If you know a couple who love the Lord and are trying to raise kids who feel the same, there’s nothing better you can do than encourage them to pray together and with their kids. Trouble is, most Catholics aren’t sure how to do this. Amazon to the rescue! (To be fair, I haven’t had a chance to read either of these books, but they come highly recommended from sources I trust, so I’m buying them sight unseen and I think you should, too.)
A Short Guide to Praying as a Family, by the Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia, has information for beginners in prayer as well as suggestions for the more advanced. The pictures are beautiful–beautiful–and the one section I read (on praying as a couple) was fantastic.
The Little Oratorygets incredible reviews, including from my friend Anamaria who writes book reviews for her diocesan paper and says it’s the only book she’s ever given 5 stars to. That’s enough for me.
I could go on and on about what books I love–and I have! Check out my suggestions here:
Devotional jewelry–medals and crucifixes and chaplet bracelets–can be beautiful, particularly once you start finding creative stuff on Etsy. I especially love the vintage look over at this shop. Or go to Organic Mama and get a beautiful rosary bracelet for mom (with a prayer-marker so she can remember where she was when someone suddenly needed a drink) and a fantastic chewable one for her baby. I love that.
Sacred music, for those who can only listen to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” so many times. The Benedictine nuns have some beautiful CDs for those with more traditional taste, while Matt Maher‘s a great choice if you like contemporary stuff. And my friend Joe is a legit Catholic hip hop artist.
For someone who has everything:
What about giving a real gift–one that you pick out specifically–that doesn’t technically go to the recipient? Some people will love being given a charitable donation, and here are some great ways to do it:
When I was a kid, we used to love giving to Heifer International, where you could send a gift of livestock to a family to get them on their feet. Going through the catalog and deciding between bunnies and a goat was thrilling for me, and I’m sure your kids will love it, too. It would make a great present for Grandma, or maybe as a Christmas gift you could give each child $10 to donate and they could pool their money to help others.
Catholic Relief Services5 has a similar concept with all kinds of aid you can offer, from tuition to prenatal care to fruit trees.
I don’t have a favorite charity for refugees yet, but the Catholic Near East Welfare Association does great work for those who are still in the Middle East and you can pick the region your donation serves.
But I’m an amateur at this–just throwing together a few favorites instead of shopping on Black Friday. You know who’s a pro? Jessica at Shower of Roses. Head over and see a few hundred more suggestions that will really finish up your shopping list.
Pro tip for those whose girls want to play Mass: make or buy a costume beard and tell them they can pretend to be a priest as long as they’re wearing the beard. Avoids confusion. [↩]
She pays me nothing for this. I’m just obsessed. Seriously, ask any one of my friends. I show this picture of St. Felicity like she’s my own child. [↩]
She’s introduced me to so many new friends I’ve half a mind to hunt her down and thank her, though the books are 30 years old, so that might prove a challenge. [↩]
I know they’ve been under fire in recent years, but the Bishops are satisfied with their explanation and so am I. [↩]
Last Thursday marked three years that I’ve been doing this hobo thing. Three years since I last kept my books on a bookshelf. Three years since I had a reliable address. Three years since I saw any one person on a daily basis. Three years of deflating air mattresses and sleep deprivation and inconsistent eating habits and interminable drives.
Three years of audiobooks and stunning scenery, of granola bars and gas station coffee. Three years of trying to find an unlocked church and wondering where I’ll spend the night. Three years of awkward hellos and painful goodbyes, of changing trains in Brussels and changing oil in Missouri.
Like sweet Emma, who wrote me a note asking that I would pray for her to become a saint. She’s 12.
Three years of visiting dear old friends and being loved well by people who really know me. Three years of making new best friends out of strangers who happened to see a Facebook post. Three years of walking with people through the hardest moments of their lives and rejoicing with them in the most beautiful.
I’m there for the highs and the lows and many of the in-betweens. I’m privileged to see the Holy Spirit at work and to witness the power of Divine Providence. I’ve stayed in well over a hundred homes and never once had to get a hotel room.1
I’ve learnedto trust (kind of). I’ve learned that I’m worth something even when I’m doing nothing. I’ve learned to listen to the Holy Spirit like never before. I’ve learned the power of homelessness to remind us that this world is not our home.
I’ve seen incredible communities and desperate loneliness. I’ve witnessed deep faithfulness and radical complacency. I’ve felt admired and ignored and abhorred and adored and disdained and accepted and misunderstood and loved.
I’ve started a blog and a speaking ministry and a podcast and a new book project. I’ve been to 49 states and 12 countries and put almost 100,000 miles on my car.
Every day I’m grateful that you all let me love you. It’s not always easy, trying to be for someone different each day of the week with no idea who I’ll walk with tomorrow. But you’ve given me far more than I’ve given you. Thank you for your prayers and invitations, your words of encouragement and your Facebook shares. Thank you for inviting me into your homes and your lives, from London and Rome to Hicksville and Butte.
Has anyone ever looked that good at the end of a half marathon before? She looks better after 12 miles than I would have after 12 yards.
Cheering at the OKC marathon a few weeks back got me thinking: that’s basically what I do. I stand at the margins of strangers’ lives and scream for them to keep running. There are some who ignore me and some who grimace and others who step up their game when I beg them to. If you’re one of the ones who started running again after I stumbled through the words I thought you needed, thank you. I’m so grateful that the Lord lets me be a part of your path to him.
I have no idea how much longer this will go on. Some days it feels like it’s really beginning to wear on me. More often I lament that my life is far too easy; you don’t become a saint without suffering, after all. And while I have a marvelous extended community, it’s not the kind of community that rubs off your rough edges through daily annoyances. There’s a reason people don’t live like this, and it’s not just that nobody else is as extraverted as I am. It’s that people need stability and community and home. So while I’ve been given all kinds of grace to endure–more, to adore–an unnatural life, spring has me longing for a little old house surrounded by lilacs and filled with people who know me well.
Maybe I can steal my nieces and nephews.
And yet this life is good. And no place in particular tugs at my heart. So the pilgrim life continues. Jesus accomplished what he had to do in three years as a hobo missionary. It seems I’m less efficient. So right now we’ll aim for three and a half and regroup come December. Between now and then, I’ve got the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, Georgia, Ohio, Massachusetts, Connecticut2, Toronto, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland3, St Louis, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon, Washington, Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, and Virginia. So, you know the drill. If you’re in (or between–Washington to Texas is not a day’s drive) any of those places, drop me a note and I’ll come be your friend.
I’ve been thinking about this for months but it seemed like a lot of work, so I’d been putting it off. Then Lent rolled around and I couldn’t think what to do for almsgiving–until it hit me: get off your butt and start that podcast.1
So I did all the research and bought a microphone and started recording and now here you go! I have to warn you: I’m not in this for any technical accolades. So things may be staticky and the levels will never be consistent.We’re either going to be okay with that or you’re going to volunteer to be my technical editor. Deal?
Half the reason I wanted to podcast was so that I could record some of my talks and send them out to y’all. Since I don’t have a decent video camera and I’m not sure people watch 45 minute videos anyway, this struck me as a better plan. Which means I’m recording on my cell phone stuck in my pocket.2 So it won’t be great sound quality. But maybe it’ll be something worth listening to–like the one I’ve got scheduled to come out on Saturday on Lent and the Cross, in which I break open Genesis 3, Genesis 22, Exodus 12, Psalm 22, and Isaiah 53 in talking about the Passion of Christ and what it means for our lives. I basically started this podcast because I wanted to share that talk, so get excited. Talks on marriage and joy are also coming your way in the next few weeks.
If you’ve ever emailed me about a real question, you may know that I’m terrible at replying. Often, I just write to find out where you live and then promise to come visit and talk it over. I’m just no good at corresponding. But I’m great at talking your ear off! So if you’ve got questions you want answered about anything Jesusy, shoot me an email at hoboforChrist@gmail.com and maybe you’ll get a whole show dedicated to your question!
The third format I’m anticipating–and the one I’m most excited about–is conversations with the amazing people I meet around the country. The second episode (which went up this morning) is an interview with my new friend Julianne all about what I do as a hobo. My friend Ellen and I will be talking about the Triduum later this Lent. I’m looking forward to discussing education with Christina, children’s literature with Mike, and the Ordinariate with Fr. Matt. When in doubt, we’ll probably talk through Sunday’s readings and then hope I can get it out in time for people to listen before Mass. Basically, I just meet a lot of incredible people and have a lot of life-changing conversations and I want to share that with y’all!
You should eventually be able to subscribe in itunes. Until then, you can go to the rss feed and subscribe there somehow? And if you’ve got ideas as to how I can make the libsyn/Wordpress thing less clunky, I’m open to suggestions!
Until then, here’s episode 2:
Does it make me a jerk that I consider subjecting the world to more of my pontificating to be almsgiving? Something to pray about…. [↩]
This also means I have to wear my one shirt with front pockets any time I think I want to record a talk. [↩]
Alternate clickbait title: 16 Crazy Things about the Catholic Church That Will Leave You Stunned!
All Catholics are expected to perform some act of penance every Friday and the US Bishops recommend abstaining from meat. Turns out that didn’t go out with Vatican II.
Beaver doesn’t count as meat. Not because we don’t know they’re mammals. Theories differ as to why, but the consensus seems to be that beaver tail is plenty penitential enough. So eat up!
You don’t have to fast (or abstain) on Solemnities. Even in Lent, if the Solemnity of St. Joseph falls on a Friday, grab a plate of bacon and chow down. Feast days don’t have the same weight, though, so stick with the fish sticks on the Feast of the Chair of Peter. Makes you want to pay a little more attention to the liturgical year, doesn’t it?
You can only get indulgences for yourself or for people who are dead. No fair racking them up for anyone else, not even your favorite neighborhood hobo.
You genuflect on your right knee in church, not your left. The left knee is for people, the right knee for God. So ladies, if your good Catholic boyfriend goes down on his right knee when he proposes, accuse him of idolatry and storm off. Or something like that.
4 of the 35 Doctors of the Church are women. If you’re not impressed, think about this: zero of the United States’ 43 presidents have been women. And once you consider that the most recent Doctor of the Church was a 19th-century nun—you know, back when most colleges wouldn’t even admit women—it becomes harder to play that “the Catholic Church hates women” card.
All the liturgical vestments have a meaning. That’s why the chasuble, which symbolizes love, goes over the stole, which symbolizes authority. “Over all these, put on love.”1
All the Church requires of you is .65% of your life. Do the math: if you go to Mass every time you have to, that comes out to about 57 hours a year in the US. So all you give God is .65%? You can do better than that.
The palms from Palm Sunday are burned to make the ashes for Ash Wednesday. I’m sure there’s some great symbolism in there but all I’m seeing is a connection between the two days you get free stuff for going to church. Cha-ching!
No modern scientist has been able to explain how the image on the Shroud of Turin was made. Say what you like about the dubious carbon dating. How are you going to tell me that’s a 14th-century forgery when you can’t replicate it with all your 21st-century technology?
Luther didn’t reject the Deuterocanon until an opponent of his proved that purgatory is Biblical using a Deuterocanonical book. After that, he started throwing books out left, right, and center. He tried to toss Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation, too, but his followers weren’t having it.
The Big Bang Theory was devised by a Catholic priest. Everybody laughed at him—“You silly Catholics, thinking the universe has a beginning!” Turns out he was a physicist as well as a Christian. Looks like Pope Francis was (as usual) saying nothing revolutionary when he agreed that the Church has no problem with evolution.
Catholic religious also invented the scientific method, genetics, and the university system. Because we hate science. And progress.
Pope St. Silverius, from Butler’s Pictorial Lives of the Saints
At least 3 popes have been heretics.2 Not one of them proclaimed heresy from the see of Peter. How’s that for infallibility?
Sunday’s first reading is always picked to match the Gospel. The second reading (in Ordinary Time, anyway) takes us through different epistles, giving highlights from each, and isn’t necessarily connected to the other readings. Still pay attention to it, though.
If you read 8 paragraphs of the Catechism every day, you’ll finish the whole thing before the year is out. Consider that a challenge.
I am a godmother to 5, all under 8. That means that at this point, my job mainly consists of praying and buying presents. I buy them a lot of books–my friend’s little girl once told her, “Godmothers are good at picking books,” since that’s about all I manage to do–but I don’t think books are enough. Don’t get me wrong, I adore books! But if you’re raising saints, you need to baptize their imagination, which means encouraging holy play as well as holy reading. I try for Saint dress-up clothes, but those are expensive. The Catholic toys tend to be equally expensive or rather disappointing. So we’re stuck with books.
Until now!
My friend Lindsey (who does my awesome headshots) is a brilliant artist and a Catholic mom of 5. She had the same trouble I had with finding Catholic toys, but she actually has the ability to do something about it. And she has! Introducing Blessing Blocks from AlmondRod Toys. (Follow them on Facebook!)
I’ve shown you the Nativity before and I still think it’s the loveliest children’s nativity I’ve seen. It’s not just not breakable, it’s also beautiful. But children’s Nativities aren’t too hard to come by and maybe you already have one (or six). So as much as I adore the Nativity, it’s not my new favorite thing. My new favorite thing? Saint blocks!
These little wooden blocks come with images of any of 60 different Saints. The images are beautifully painted with appropriate iconography. On the back, there’s the Saint’s name, feast day, and other info, including patronage, a short description, and a prayer or a quotation.
The other day, I brought my nieces and nephews some Saint blocks. Saints John Paul, Cecilia, Elizabeth Ann Seton, Clare, and Peter for John Paul, Cecilia, Elizabeth, Mary Claire, and Peter. They were thrilled. Seriously, they shrieked and squealed and played with them all day. They built towers of Saints and put them on block towers. Cecilia (age 3 1/2) brought hers to Mass and snuggled it the entire time. John Paul (5) wore cargo pants just so he had a good pocket to keep his in. Elizabeth and Mary Claire (2) kept begging to hold everybody else’s blocks. Only Peter (11 days) was fairly uninterested.
Peter’s tender age didn’t keep his siblings from showing him the blocks. Nor did it keep him from tasting them.
I’ve seen what happens when kids pick up these blocks: they’re hooked. The Saints become their best friends. They shriek with glee when they run across one of “their” Saints in a book or in the liturgy. They want to know their stories and to imitate them. I’m not telling you about these blocks because I want to help my friend make money. I’m telling you because I really think this kind of thing helps to form young saints. It makes virtue something tangible and gives them a real experience of the vast family they’re a part of. It wraps the Church inside joyful memories so that when they’ve run away, they’ll still think of her fondly and maybe make it back. When they’re playing, they’re asking the Saints’ intercession even without knowing it. AlmondRod Toys’ motto is “Sprouting Saints through Play” and I think that’s exactly what these blocks do.
On Thanksgiving, Cecilia (still clinging to her block) wrote St. Cecilia on her thankful turkey. “The Saint AND the block!” To be fair, she also wrote hermit crabs, which she’s never seen, and crab, which she’s never eaten….
And here’s the best part–you can afford them! They’re not the $25 peg dolls I find on Etsy–they’re 5 for $30.1 Even if that seems steep for blocks, consider that it’s far and away the best on the market for a Saint toy.2 If they don’t have the Saint you’re looking for, you can order one custom made or just wait a few weeks as Lindsey continues to add to the roster. She’s even thinking about putting the images on other things–8×10 prints, t-shirts, postcards–or just selling the electronic copies for you to use as you please. And if there’s any justice in this world, some publisher will recruit her to illustrate children’s Bibles and books about the Saints. We all know how many less-than-lovely Christian books out there, and it’s my life’s dream that Lindsey will have the opportunity to produce some really beautiful, meaningful ones to counterbalance them.3
So head on over to her shop and place an order quick–she makes all these blocks by hand and I’d bet money that she’ll sell out well before Christmas. Then get excited to watch your little ones fall in love with Christ through his Saints.
BONUS: For a limited time, you can get a free Saint block with any order! Just say a Hail Mary for the conversion of sinners and put the code KYRIE ELEISON into the notes section of the order form along with the name of the Saint you’re requesting from her list of options. Sweet deal–and you know you want to support the kind of woman who gives stuff away to people who pray for souls!
Up from $25 since she’s getting so many orders she’s having to contract out the sanding. Still a deal! [↩]
Really, if you find anything else in this category, please send it my way! [↩]
But seriously, if you connect her with a publisher, I’ll be your best friend. I really, really want to buy her books but I can’t do that until someone prints them. [↩]
Thanks to your prayers and support and encouragement, I just spent 6 weeks in Europe! If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you know all about this. But I thought you might like me to fill in some details so you can see some of the marvelous things God’s been doing in my life.
In patriotic Taksim Square
I flew into Turkey (which was rather more dramatic than I was expecting), where I ate baklava and Turkish delight and went to Mass in Turkish. The extent of my sightseeing was out the bus window, but I made my flight the next morning without any unnecessary drama, so I’ll call it a win.
My first real stop in Europe was Huddersfield, England. I was met at the Manchester airport by a godly priest whose insights over the next few days were very challenging and encouraging. I spent my visit speaking in schools and a church and got a crash course in the difficulties of the English Church, where they seem to be struggling between relativism from without and apathy from within. There are almost no laypeople working for the Church, where weekly giving in the wealthiest parish in the diocese averages less than $2 per person. This obviously puts a lot of pressure on a dwindling number of priests and results in aging congregations when there’s no youth program. But I met a solid group of young adults who have great hope for the Catholic Church in the UK and further experiences in England bore out that opinion. God is working, my friends, and while I get the feeling that the Church in the States is a few decades ahead of the English Church in terms of renewal and passion and orthodoxy, God willing they’re headed the right direction.
With the lamppost that allegedly inspired The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; the church where Newman gave his last sermon as an Anglican; a sign in the pub where Lewis and Tolkien used to meet with their fellow Inklings; the ceiling of the theology college where Campion used to debate his colleagues.
After a visit to York to see St. Margaret Clitherow‘s hand, I was off to Oxford for a rough afternoon. I spent the evening with a group of Oxford students, talking about life and prayer and discernment and my new favorite book I haven’t read. The next day, Brother Oliver, OP, gave me a “short” three-hour tour of campus, where I made a pilgrimage to the holy sites of St. Edmund Campion, Bl. John Henry Newman, Tolkien, and Lewis. I’m pretty sure I kept shrieking over the excitement of hanging out where all my favorite people hung out. Br. Oliver was very patient. There followed afternoon tea with a group of young ladies and a bus to Paddington Station, where I kept my eyes peeled for a bear from Darkest Peru.
While in London, I was speaking at a school in Ilford, East London, working with a young woman who has such a heart for Jesus and such zeal for souls. The British school system is structured in such a way that Catholic schools often have a high percentage of Muslim students. On my second day in the school, I found myself speaking to the sixth form, the oldest students in secondary school who have been liberated from their uniforms. I ended up preaching the Gospel to a group that was 1/3 hijabis. What a grace, to stand before women who’ve been told that God does not and cannot love them and to tell them,1 “You are loved beyond imagining by a God who died to know you!” Some of them looked angry, but many more had tears in their eyes. Pray for them, that they would come to know the love of Christ and have the courage to follow him.
I had one day of sightseeing in London, after a lovely evening with a dear friend from college. I saw all of London in a rushed few hours so that I could spend two hours at Tyburn. Tyburn was where many of the English martyrs were killed during the Reformation, hanged, drawn, and quartered–including Edmund Campion, one of my dearest friends. I was blessed to be given a private tour of the relics from a story-telling Aussie nun, a real once-in-a-lifetime experience for someone who loves the English martyrs as I do. Then Mass at Westminster Cathedral to top off a lovely day.
After London, I was off to the south of England, to Southampton and Portsmouth where I spoke in 2 parishes and one school. I met a 12-year-old boy who was moved to tears when telling me the story of St. Tarcisius and a new bishop who spent half an hour talking eagerly with me about evangelization. I gave a talk before adoration and Father had to stay an extra 45 minutes to finish hearing confessions. See what I mean about hope?
(clockwise) On a bridge in Ghent; Trappist-made beer; an atypical sunrise; a bridge over the river; my dear friend St. Damien, originally from Belgium; a typical Belgian building.
Then an early morning cab to the airport, a short flight to Brussels, and a train to Mons, and there I was in Belgium! I had plenty of bread, chocolate, waffles, and beer, and the opportunity to minister to people from 8 or 10 different countries at NATO headquarters. We talked about prayer and evangelization and Mary and the Eucharist and the Resurrection and I was so encouraged to see how well the people in this community love Christ. On my day off, we went to Ghent to see the famous much-stolen altarpiece, go to Mass in Dutch, and enjoy the marvelous architecture along the river. The next day, I searched in vain for a Mass (hard to come by in Belgium, where the churches are open but empty all day long), explored a few marvelous churches in Mons, and then caught three trains and a bus to get to Germany. Up next: Germany, France, Austria, and Italy. Get excited!
This is no attack on Islam–just an explanation that “God is love” is a uniquely Christian concept and that most Muslims would be outraged by the claim that God loves them. Allah tolerates you, perhaps even approves of you, but to claim that he loves you is a denigration of his dignity. [↩]
I do a lot of Googling. Sometimes it’s just because I randomly and passionately want to know everything about rumspringa. Other times, it’s because somebody asked a question that I didn’t know the answer to and my know-it-all heart couldn’t handle it. So I search and search and search and send an email and then nobody else gets to reap the fruit of all my hard work.
But I have a blog. Which means I can share my research with the whole world!
Elizabeth Anna on the Left and Mary Claire on the right.
So I know this is super random, but if you’ve talked to me in the last year and a half, you are abundantly aware that my sister has twins. And when she found out she was having twins, I had to find all the possible Saint pairings to name the babies after. My nephew, 3 at the time, was adamant that they would be named Ezra and Nehemiah.1 When he finally accepted that they were girls, he suggested Mary Salome and Mary The Mother of God. His parents weren’t too keen on “The Mother of God” as a middle name, so we turned to the internet.
Turns out not a lot of people have compiled lists of Catholic twin names (Although this post gave me some inspiration), so I figured I’d share my research for those among you who are having twins. First of all, congratulations! Twins are awesome! And eventually you’ll sleep again. Before you’re totally sleep-deprived, let’s get to know some Saint pairings so you can name your little ones after holy besties.
Two Boys.
Cosmas and Damian. Think they were identical?
Cosmas and Damian were actually twins, but I don’t know about naming a baby Cosmas.2 Cyril and Methodius might give you the same problem.
Ignatius and Francis Xavier were two of the first Jesuits and two of the most amazing men in the history of ever. Peter Faber was one of their companions, too, in case you’re having triplets.
David and Jonathan had one of the most selfless friendships of all time.3
For our Eastern friends, Gregory Nazianzen and Basil were such great friends–like two bodies with a single spirit, Gregory tells us–that they share a feast day despite having died fifteen years apart.
Ambrose was the teacher of the inimitable Augustine. It might be hard not to feel that you’re playing favorites when the student so far surpassed the teacher, but Ambrose himself was no slouch.
Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas might leave you in a similar bind, but Albert was an esteemed scholar in all disciplines, which might balance out Thomas being the greatest mind the world has ever known.4
Historians differ as to whether or not Francis and Dominic met in person, but Fra Angelico thinks they did and his testimony is good enough for me.
Francis of Assisi and Dominic5 founded the two great mendicant orders.
If you’ve got British ancestry, you might like the sound of Edmund and Henry. Henry Walpole was converted when Edmund Campion’s blood spattered on him and went on to be ordained and martyred in England, just like Edmund.
John Bosco was Dominic Savio’s teacher and the author of his biography. As with so many in this list, they clearly made each other saints.
Miguel Pro and Jose Luis were both killed during the Cristero Wars, both crying out “Viva Cristo Rey!” as their last words.
Thomas More and John Fisher were both martyred for clinging to their faith during the reign of Henry VIII.
If you’re a hardcore Chestertonian, Gilbert and Keith would be a great duo in anticipation of his canonization.6
Obviously, any pair of Apostles or Prophets will work here. James and John were sons of Zebedee and Simon Peter and Andrew were brothers as well. Thomas even means twin! Then you could do Moses and Aaron, Isaac and Jacob, or Samuel and Elijah. Timothy and Titus were both converted by St. Paul, who would himself be a great brother to a little Peter.
A Boy and a Girl
John and Teresa–something to aspire to.
Benedict and Scholastica are the obvious ones here–our other set of canonized twins.
Francis and Claire of Assisi worked together to found the women’s branch of the Franciscans, now called the Poor Clares.
Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross reformed the Carmelites together and inspired one another as only mystics can. A power couple if ever there was one.
Jordan and Diana (both Blessed) were early Dominicans whose correspondence is a true example of holy friendship.
Francis de Sales founded the Visitation Sisters with Jane de Chantal and served as her spiritual director, a role Vincent de Paul later took over.
Vincent de Paul founded the Daughters of Charity with Louise de Marillac, whose previous spiritual director was also Francis de Sales. So if you somehow end up with quadruplets, how about Vincent, Francis, Louise, and Jane?
Mother Marianne beside the corpse of Fr. Damien.
Damien of Molokai and Mother Marianne worked together to serve the lepers of Hawaii.
St. Dominic’s mother, Bl. Jane of Aza, played an enormous role in his sanctity.
Then there’s Monica who is said to have (metaphorically) baptized her son Augustine with her tears.
Louis and Zelie Martin were married (And the parents of St. Therese.) Luigi and Maria Quattrocchi were also married. Is it too creepy to name siblings after Saints who were married to each other? Other than Mary and Joseph, of course.7
Rose of Lima and Martin de Porres were Peruvian Dominicans and close friends.
Raymond of Capua was Catherine of Siena’s spiritual director and biographer.
John Bosco and Maria Mazzarello founded the Salesians together.
Francisco and Jacinta of Fatima were siblings and visionaries at one of the world’s greatest apparitions.
I published this post at 3 and saw this window at 5. Perfect.
Maximilian Kolbe and Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein) were both killed by the Nazis.
John Paul and Mother Teresa fought for the Gospel of Life.
Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to Juan Diego–great names if you’ve got some Hispanic blood (or just wish you did).
St. Patrick reportedly baptized St. Brigid’s parents and became her good friend. Between the two of them, they seem to have converted most of Ireland.
Then of course there’s John and Mary (at the foot of the Cross), Elizabeth and John (the Baptist), and various Old Testament couples.
Two Girls
Perpetua and Felicity were martyred together at the very beginning of the third century. The account of their martyrdom is profoundly inspiring.
Claire and Agnes of Assisi were biological sisters as well as sisters in religion.
Bridget of Sweden was the mother of Catherine of Sweden, who also entered the order her mother founded (the Brigittines).
Nunilo and Alodia were daughters of a Muslim father and a Christian mother who were martyred for following Christ. Maybe for middle names?
Mary and Martha, but be prepared for Mary to taunt Martha with having chosen the better part. I certainly would have.
Mary and Elizabeth, like my nieces! And then their feast day can be the Visitation. Or Mary and Anne after the Blessed mother and her mom. Mary and Madeleine after Mary Magdalene–basically pair anyone in the New Testament with Mary and you’re good.
Teresa of Avila and Catherine of Siena were for years the only two female doctors of the Church.8 (Therese and Hildegard have since joined them, but Therese and Teresa might be a bit much and Hildegard….)
Joan of Arc had locutions from Catherine of Alexandria and Margaret. Mary appeared to Bernadette–and Catherine and Jacinta.
Judith, Ruth, and Esther all have books of the Bible written about them. Ruth was the daughter-in-law of Naomi.
Any of them virgin martyrs–Cecilia, Agnes, Agatha, Lucy, Anastasia, Catherine (of Alexandria), Philomena….
Or you could nae them both after Mary in some way–Maria and Sophia, ((Our Lady Seat of Wisdom–Sophia) or Stella and Marissa. More on Marian names later.
Of course, you could just pick two who weren’t contemporaries but belonged to the same religious order. Or two doctors of the Church or perhaps two people who had the same mission or similar martyrdoms. Then there’s the meaning of the names to consider–what about Cora (meaning heart) and her sister Arianna (which apparently means sacred)? I’ll leave you to research all that on your own.
If you still aren’t satisfied, check out this book on Saints who were connected to each other. I haven’t read it, but it certainly sounds promising!
What other combinations would you add? What did you name your twins? Share in the comments!
And a more recent picture with big brother John Paul.
Well, friends, it’s been two years as a hobo. Two years since I last put my clothes in a drawer. Two years of taking a deep breath before answering the questions “Where are you from?” or “What do you do?” Two years of planning a year from now with no idea where I’m going tomorrow. Two years, 49 states,1 two foreign countries,2 60,000 miles on my car. I’ve stayed in 42 states, spoken in 31 (50 dioceses), and been to Mass in 42 (90 dioceses), including 25 cathedrals. Like my first hobo year, this last has been eventful–almost frantically so at times.
In two years, I’ve ministered to thousands of God’s people, ages 1-97. I’ve played with hundreds of children, reunited with long-lost family members, and made friends of countless strangers. I’ve answered the same questions more times than I can count and been privileged to share my heart with many people who are struggling. I’ve talked Jesus on street corners, in airplanes, in Dairy Queen, at gas stations, in Catholic churches, in Protestant churches, on the boardwalk, in a country club, on the sharing rug, on the auditorium stage, via email/Twitter/Facebook, around the dinner table, in the middle of the night, in a party barn at an SEC frat house, at retreat centers, in parking lots, in grocery stores, and most everywhere else you can imagine. I’ve been ridiculed and accused and praised and welcomed and ignored–all about par for the course if you’re a missionary (which you are).
So what have I learned? Aside from what I’ve been sharing with you along the way, that is. What truths has the Lord been speaking to my heart over these past two years? Dozens, surely, but two in particular keep resurfacing.
1. I am enough…
I never realized it, but I’ve always thought of friendship as a sort of zero sum game. I’m happy to be the one who’s always giving, but I’m terrified of being needy. I’ve always assumed that people were just friends with me because they were being generous, so I’ve needed to earn their love.3 So I dispense wisdom or collaborate in ministry or just listen well and then I’ve done my part and they won’t mind being friends with me. I hope it’s not news to you that this isn’t love.
When I first started as a hobo, God made me entirely needy. I had nothing to offer. I wasn’t speaking anywhere, wasn’t serving the Church in any visible way. People weren’t inviting me to their homes to stay while I ministered to their community; I was inviting myself. And when I got there, to the homes of dear friends, I felt the need to earn my keep. I washed dishes and babysat, but more than that I just sat around feeling guilty, convinced that I was imposing on the generous nature of my virtuous friends and that they were secretly resenting me for it. It’s a terrible thing to think about the people you love, but it’s more a judgment on what I tend to think of myself than on what I believe about them. Staying uninvited with people who didn’t need me made me terribly anxious.
See? My godson can’t get enough of me. He’s thrilled, I tell you. Thrilled.
But every time I moved on, they asked me to stay. Every single time. At every home, I heard, “Don’t go. We’ll move the kids into a room together so you can have the girls’ room. Just stay another week. No, move in! We have room. We want you here.” Everyone wanted me–not because of what I was doing for them, but simply because of who I was.
And God spoke so loudly to my heart, “You are enough. You don’t have to do anything. You are enough.” I think I’ll spend the rest of my life learning this, but God keeps showing me4 that all my anxiety and self-loathing are the product of lies. I am beautiful. I am enough.
2. …because he is everything.
I’m not enough because of who I am, but because of who he is in me. He gives me direction, leads people to open their homes and their hearts to me. He speaks in me and through me. Anything worthwhile I’ve ever said was either the Holy Spirit in me or me quoting someone else he’s spoken to. It’s not me. He helps me to love the unlovable, to ache with those whose suffering was entirely avoidable. He gives me patience and joy and empathy and wisdom. And when I mess up, it’s because I’m not letting him be God.
Walk up for the puppy, stay for the prayers. I think Don Bosco would approve.
The talks I’ve given so often that they end up being almost identical always go over pretty well. But the ones where I start talking about things I’ve never thought about before, the ones where the Holy Spirit really takes control, those are the ones that leave people changed. There was the day I went into a day-long retreat with three lines of notes and afterwards had to reassure the participants that I hadn’t gotten confidential information about them to focus my talks around. There was the flight where I got moved to the front of the plane, then had to switch seats again, then felt compelled to start a conversation with the couple beside me5 only to discover that they had fallen away from the faith and were longing for someone to draw them back. There was the time I felt I had to wear my “I’m a Catholic, ask me a question” shirt to daily Mass and was approached by a Protestant from Northern Ireland for a 3-hour conversation. The young man on the quad who God led me to give some cash to. The guy who talked to me and prayed over me because I happened to have pulled over in front of his house to make a phone call. Providence.
People tend to write me off, to think that the way I live is something out of the ordinary and irrelevant to their lives. “It’s amazing how you let God have control of your life,” they tell me, as though they’re not called to the same thing. “Oh, he’s in charge of all of our lives,” I sometimes respond. “The only difference is that I know it.”
Sure, I’m more obviously dependent on God for daily needs, but he’s providing for you as directly as he’s providing for me. The message I’ve been getting these past two years–the repeated assurance from the Almighty: “I’ve got this”–isn’t just for me. He’s not finding me places to stay and leading me to generous mechanics and sending me to Europe simply because he’s particularly fond of me6 but to remind me that he is God. He knows the hairs on my head, he watches the sparrow, he cares about how many Levites were under the age of 5 at the time of the census, and he provides exceedingly and abundantly, more than all we can ask or imagine.7
He’s got this. He’s working through your diagnosis or your breakup or your failure or your bankruptcy. He’s working all things for good.8 He loves you too much to give you everything you want or even everything you feel you need. But he is always, always taking care of you. Trust him.
God keeps leading me into danger and uncertainty just so he can swoop in and save me. It’s getting to where I almost don’t worry anymore. Almost. But at least in the midst of my worry I know I’m being dumb. Because my God is so good and so much bigger than anything I may face. He’s got this.
Basically, the lesson I’ve learned is that God loves me. And if I ever really believe it, I’ll be a saint. Until then, I’ll keep trying. And failing. And falling on my knees in the confessional and before the Blessed Sacrament to let him heal me once again. And I’ll keep driving. See you around!
