Author: ChrisAnn Alvarez

I often get headaches from reading while I commute to work, so to side-step this dilemma I have started listening to podcasts daily. The one I listen to most often speaks about the topics of science, philosophy and the human experience. Although not bound or based in the Catholic faith, I try to tie each story back to my Christian belief.

An interesting story I heard about was that of Stu Rasmussen. Stu Rasmussen, of Silverton Oregon, is an avid metalworker, woodworker, and electrician – and in 2008 he became the United States’ first transgendered mayor. In this case, although Stu is married to a woman, he dresses like a woman.

Silverton is a small town in the United States and one day a group went into Silverton and began marching up and down the streets to protest and show how offensive they found Stu. “The mayor is disgusting.” And they were holding signs that said, “God hates Silverton,” “God hates your mayor,” etc.

Shortly after this protest began, folks from the town stood in counter-protest wearing clothing of the opposite sex. The group initially started with 3 men in dresses, and then eventually the crowd grew to 200. The people interviewed voiced that there were many unexpected faces that joined in; unexpected due to their conservative views. They stood there holding signs saying, “God loves Silverton,” and, “God loves Stu.”

It’s amazing how many townspeople were willing to drop their own personal beliefs of how a man/woman “should be” just for that momentary instance of defending the right of someone they love and respect.

There are several issues of today that we as Catholics need to defend and take a personal stand for… however, in this driving attempt, we must never forget our first and most important calling: To Love. God is love, and if we carry Him in our hearts, we too must emanate love to others. Rather than fighting back with anger or hate, the townspeople of Silverton showed that all are loved within the eyes of Our Father. In our attempts to “be and bring God wherever we are” may we judge less so we are able to love more.

^“Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” 1John 4:8

After our first day at the HOLD Conference, I had a wonderfully unexpected heart-to-heart with a beloved sister who was also serving at the conference. We were both exhausted, but I remember lying there in bed, with our eyes unable to remain open, talking and listening, sharing our struggles and blessings.

When I asked her how she was, she told me that she was joyful. So joyful, in fact, that she was no longer able to remember any other past before it. In the dim light, I remember mirroring her joy and telling her I knew exactly how she felt. Then she told me that she felt guilty for being so joyful… she started losing touch of her previous life and the sin(s) that came with it. She continued and said that she wanted to remember the things she had done because in some way, she didn’t deserve to forget. I can recall exactly how I felt at that very moment. I felt this warmth spread and I couldn’t contain my happiness as I turned around in bed and looked at her from across the room and smiled. “He loves you enough that He let you forget.”

In homage to the wrongs we have done, we try and remember our sins… We hold on to them, thinking that by remembering, we are somehow holding ourselves accountable for the wrongdoings we have committed.

We have a forgiving and loving God. If joy has been planted into our hearts, we should let that joy continue to spread so that it can overflow. The person you have chosen to be is what matters. Take all those sins from your former self and nail them to the cross, for who are we to continue to house them within ourselves when our Father has already set us free? We can use our stories as testimonies…  We can acknowledge our wrongdoings: “This is who I was. But this is who He has allowed me to become. You will not always experience what you are experiencing if only You let Him in.”

Let us proclaim the love of a Father, who will never withhold this love from His children, as unworthy as we may be.

(The imagery used may be a little graphic)

The HOLD conference was recently held in Ottawa and I had the privilege of serving as part of the production team.

We had mass every day and during the second day, after having received the Eucharist, I kneeled and began to pray… As I had my eyes closed, I saw an arm laid flat against a wooden plank, and so vividly I watched a large nail get hammered into it and the hand clench tightly, in pain. I watched as blood, dark and fresh, trickled down from the wrist and onto the wood behind it, then into a chalice that waited at the edge of the plank.

This image shook me and with my hands pressed together, I curled forward and began to cry; seeing the great amount of pain experienced by Our Lord.

Then suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and Ellen calling me, “ChrisAnn? ChrisAnn? Is your headset on?” I looked up at her and instantly a look of concern flashed across her face as she saw how upset I appeared. I stood up and quickly cleared by throat and checked that in fact, my headset was on, but I heard nothing as I was kneeling and only then did Ate Candy’s voice come through. “ChrisAnn, can you hear me? Please keep your headset on at all times.” And I couldn’t explain how my headset was already on, but I somehow was unable to hear anything or anyone. I simply apologized and continued on, but my heart, although a few moments before was in pain, felt nothing but an overflowing of love.

Oh Lord, how You love us.

There’s nothing like a desk job to confirm that… I don’t want a desk job.

It’s funny because I’m actually writing this from my desk at work. I’m on contract with Natural Resources Canada as a Linguistic Coordinator (I basically process translation and edit requests, and deal with the bulk of the finances regarding these requests), and although it might (sort of?) sound fancy, it really isn’t. Because I’m on contract, I get about half the wage that I would if I was to hold this position permanently, so that being said, I don’t get paid much. I’m thankful for this, because I can see how such a menial job can become enticing.

My contract for this position was initially one month, and month by month, it kept getting renewed. I had first accepted this job because I wanted something short-term before my family goes on their month long roadtrip through the states, but this evidently wasn’t the case.

My coworkers are wonderful and funny people. The office has a picturesque view of Ottawa from the 16^th floor. I keep getting told that this will look great on my resume (throwing in fancy words such as “expenditures,” “liaison,” “validate financial documentation”). But I look around at all these people and wonder… this can’t really be it. Working for the government means that you have financial security; it also means you get a pretty sweet pension when you retire. But I can’t ever see myself working like this day in and day out, just waiting for that precious two weeks of vacation, and then retirement.

In highschool, I knew I wanted to go into Psychology. I wanted to work with children with special needs and pursued this as I entered university. As God would have it (not luck or fate) I ended up volunteering at the courthouse for the Elizabeth Fry Society whose mandate is to provide support to criminalized women in need. After a couple court accompaniments and cellblock visits, I felt a tug at my heart, and all of a sudden my steering wheel started to turn and I found myself looking at Social Work and potentially working with at-risk youth and women.

As I’ve grown older, and the task of working with marginalized populations proved to be much (much) more difficult than I had originally thought, I hold fast to the calling in my heart… This yearning to help others.

And I sit here blinking at this document, displaying itself on one of my two screens on my office desk, and I know that this can’t be it. Not for me. I’m not knocking my fellow office mates (as they are wonderful people, like I said), nor this position… I guess, just for me, ChrisAnn, I know this isn’t it. And I guess as irrational, and at times unrealistic as it may seem, I’ve always thought of myself as one who wants more than just “financial security.”

There will be many voices (some loud, some discouraging), many detours, potential failures, unexpected challenges, but in the thick of it all, what is that voice in your heart telling you? I guess I entered the MV program in hopes that this voice would be magnified and be made clearer.

Lord, where do you want me? And we must believe that the Lord wants us, and will thus support us, where we are the happiest and feel most fulfilled. And for that Lord, we praise You and we thank You.

As it is a quiet morning at work, I had time to mosey over some news articles and stories. I stumbled over a particular story that struck me regarding a hateful letter addressed to a mother of a child with autism. I almost willed myself to be angry, but instead I found quiet tears welling in my eyes.

Some of those closest to me know that I have a cousin named Katie who has autism. And although by blood and relation we are cousins, what we really are is sisters. We’ve lived together since she was born and for a wonderful 12 years I have been privileged, and oh-so-blessed, to have watched her grow into the beautiful young lady she is. Her happiness is such a wonderful thing to witness, and luckily for us, it’s not a rare occurrence. She is unable to verbally communicate, but she is bursting with great love that words are not really needed. (Oh man, I need to take a break, I’m starting to cry and my boss might walk by.)

The hate in the letter hit something within me. I had once watched an episode of What Would You Do which is a show that puts regular people in certain situations to see how they would react. The situations, unlike Candid Camera or other prank shows, puts people in highly relevant and difficult situations. What would you do if someone collapsed at a stop light? What would you do if an old lady at the pharmacy couldn’t afford her medication? I watched this show in shock as many turned away and pretended to see nothing. But this morning, I was reminded of the episode where a teenage boy with Down Syndrome was bagging groceries and a customer (an actor) began barking insults at him. I watched this episode in pain as many turned away, stood in deafening silence or worse yet, empathized with the verbally abusive customer. However, I also watched as others stood up for the boy, with one woman saying, “He’s a person, the same as you and I, with feelings. Everybody deserves an education. Everybody deserves a job, and everybody deserves a chance in this life. And you should be ashamed of yourself.” My heart was touched, and I can only pray that should I be faced with such a situation, I would have that amount of courage and eloquence. I’d like to think I would (except it’s highly likely that I would be a fumbling mess). Something I liked about the show was that after the situations, the host would interview the people; the ones who acted and the ones who didn’t. Although they seemed cold and uncaring, their responses to “Why did you do what you did?” (Which for the most part, was nothing.) They replied with worries such as, “I didn’t know what to do.” “I didn’t want to get involved.” “I was too scared.” Normal answers. Regular people. What scared me most about these responses was how relatable they are to all of us.

But brothers and sisters, something that separates us from all this… Something that we should do is to stand up and take action when we see wrongs like these being committed. Be and bring Christ wherever we are, right? Jesus never stood around and allowed hate or injustice to continue. Let us bring light and warmth to a cold and dark world.

“In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” – Matt. 5:16

Lord, give us the courage to act with compassion and understanding the way you did, when we are faced with moments when we could just as easily act with indifference or cower with fear or intimidation. May our actions of love be gentle examples that emanate the greater love of our Father. Amen.

The article: http://lifestyle.ca.msn.com/family-parenting/family-life/an-open-letter-to-one-pissed-off-mother
The episode: http://www.i-tube.net/video/what-would-you-do-grocery

I had a conversation with Kuya Gelo yesterday…

About moving on… him from CFC-Youth to SFC, and I from areahead… it was a difficult conversation for me because from it came the reality that after this year, I will no longer be a CFC-Youth Ottawa member.

He asked me if it was a difficult decision for me and I looked down at the ground and told him that it wasn’t my choice, it was His. Although my Couple Coordinators here have been asking me to stay another year, I know it would be selfish of me if I agreed, because that is exactly what I want to do.

I told him it was hard for me because not only do I love this community and this area, but my kids are really…my kids. At RLR several years back, I will always remember how 3 of us sisters went down to Toronto (myself, Brinley and Kathleen), and although we were all split up and I was rooming with Ellen, in the middle of the night I heard a soft knocking on my door. There standing in the hallway were my two girls asking if it was okay for them to stay with me. I held the door open as we wheeled a cot into the room and they slept by the foot of my bed. “My kids,” I sighed. I am overwhelmed with such joy and love for them, that as I sit here at the desk in the office, my eyes are starting to well up. My God, how blessed I am that you have given them to me for all these years. How blessed I am to have seen them grow, literally. Even last weekend, I would have them curl up beside me at the campsite, or hold my hand as we milled through the crowded streets of downtown Ottawa (Canada day). How blessed I am to have cheered for them till I’ve lost my voice, to have dried countless tears, listened to stories of joy and heartbreak, and smiled and nodded countless times in encouragement as they did their talks and shares as I sat in the front row. Oh, how blessed I am.

Then Kuya Gelo told me something…something that I will keep and that gives me so much strength… Yes, they are my kids. But I need to let them grow up. They may struggle, experience problems (and I know I would want nothing more than to swoop in and solve it for them)… but I need to let them grow.

Kids will not always stay kids, after all.

My Father, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to love beyond my capacity. For entrusting to me the most beautiful people I know. I lift each of them up to you, oh Lord. Cover them with your love, fill them with joy in service, and guide them always. Amen.

Last Saturday, my parents decided to throw a surprise graduation party for my little brother (Edward) and his bestfriend (Dominic). It was very small… only my family and Dom’s mom.

Earlier that day I had come home from a camping trip with the CFCs and some of the youth and without even changing, I flopped onto my bed and passed out. When I woke up, my mom told me that Father Tim was there for dinner and was looking for me. I became nervous, for Father Tim was the priest of a large parish here in Ottawa and although I met him a few times before, I felt unprepared to have him at our small house. I was unsure what points of conversation to touch on or which questions I should pose. Father Tim is blind, so I didn’t have to straighten my skirt or fix my hair, but I felt that I had to do that internally… if that makes sense?

To my absolute surprise, I took my seat next to father at the table and our conversation was so simple and free-flowing. He asked me about my camping trip, and we started talking about super hero movies (Marvel and DC; I’m a huge fan and so is he!), his band when he was younger, what his schedule looks like on most days, the population I work with and want to work with (criminalized women, women with addictions, adults with mental illness and at-risk youth)… We fluttered from topic to topic with great ease. With a huge smile father told me he loved the “Kare-Kare,” and he held up his Mountain Dew and exclaimed that he and Andy (my youngest brother) were doing a challenge; to try and drink each flavour of Mountain Dew. At the end of the evening he cheerfully called my little brother over and told him that they had one more challenge… to mix all of the Mountain Dews together and drink it! I watched in awe and amazement as this man of faith I watched from my small seat at church, lift up a glowing pink concoction of soda and drink it as he laughed.

I have a huge smile on my face as I write this here.

God, much like Father Tim, is completely and totally relatable. We can talk to Him about action movies, describe the countless mosquito bites we got during our camping trip, tell him stories about how quickly the youth are growing (God, you need to see them!). We don’t need to limit our conversations with God to only the things we think God wants to talk about or what we think are relevant to Him. He knows what it’s like to hurt, to laugh at jokes, to taste good food, to be tempted.. He is a God who, after all, came down and became one of us. If that’s not a father trying to relate to his children, I don’t know what is!