You can't get to Easter Sunday without Good Friday

He is risen.

Happy Resurrection Sunday, friends.

When I think of the Resurrection story, I cannot help but think of the crucifixion. We cannot – we must not – get to Easter Sunday without Good Friday.

Traveling Shroud of Turin crucifix

Traveling Shroud of Turin replica exhibit

Jesus died for my sins. Jesus died with nails in His hands and in His feet for my sins. There is nothing that I can do to earn that. It is solely through God's unconditional love that He saves. Jesus paid the ultimate price for my soul ~ and He lavishly covers us in that Grace.

As a Catholic, walking the road to Calvary with Christ, praying through the Stations of the Cross, taking the 40 days of Lent seriously, listening to the message of Holy Thursday, recognizing my part in Good Friday and then rejoicing on Holy Saturday ~ these are the most beautiful parts of my year.

When I think of the tremendous suffering of our Lord –. When I contemplate the moment that Jesus shared bread and wine with the one who would betray Him –. When I focus on his ability to both serve others (washing the feet of those who walked with him) and receive acts of service (allowing a woman to bathe His feet with perfume and tears) –. When I think of His death on a cross – the cruelest of deaths –. When I meditate on all of these things, I feel the fullness of my sin. I cannot separate the agony He endured in the purchase of my soul from the gravity of my sin. He has undeservedly walked through the deepest of pain for each one of us. He died on that wooden cross ... for us.

But, three days later, Christ rose. He gloriously left a borrowed grave empty, and, He gave us hope beyond hope.

He is risen.

Last night, I had the incredible opportunity to photograph our Easter Vigil. What a joy it is to be a member of this beautiful parish. It was glorious to watch on as so many men and women chose to accept God's unfailing love, be sealed in the sacrament of Confirmation, receive Holy Eucharist and be Baptized in the waters of new life. 

Wishing you and all those you hold dear a blessed Resurrection Sunday!

Military and Motorcycles

As part of my research for a project, I headed up to the Harley-Davidson Museum in Milwaukee. Since falling into some writing projects involving motorcycles – specifically those of the Harley-Davidson variety, I have been known to photograph the shiny chrome, the power of the V-twin engines and the (sometimes intimidating) leather every once-in-a-while.

All of the fancy motorcycle parts, the excitement of riding just a little quicker than on my ten-speed and making a lot of noise may sound like fun, but what genuinely draws me in are the people.

I’ve met extraordinary veterans who are loyal Harley-Davidson riders. Their faithfulness to the brand and their commitment to supporting fellow veterans never cease to astound me.

There is something of a motorcycle phenomenon amongst military veterans, and the crux of my research has been on the rich history between the military and The Harley-Davidson Motor Co.  I went to the museum to look at the origins of this bond.

As it turns out, the Harley-Davidson Motor Co. had been involved in providing vehicles to the U.S. military since 1916, contributing 24 bikes outfitted with sidecars to carry artillery during the Mexican-American Border Conflict.

This relationship proved so successful that when WWI came around, Harley-Davidson again contributed immensely to the military front. During WWII, HD continued to supply wartime vehicles.

Military veterans are used to the camaraderie of their brothers and sisters in arms during active duty. It is a bond that knows no bounds during service time, and a similar nexus is sought amongst veterans after they return to civilian life.

Motorcycle clubs provide a similar camaraderie for these men and women who serve and who have served our country.  I have witnessed many examples of this solidarity over the last several years. Whether it be the generosity and kindness among bikers at a memorial unveiling, veterans memorializing a fallen MC brother, Harley-Davidson riders supporting Operation Mustang or a Marine veteran designing the first-in-the-nation veterans memorial on Harley-Davidson dealership grounds, there is a bond that founders William S. Harley and William A., Arthur and Walter Davidson began over a century ago between the military and the motorcycle, and it is that bond which continues today.

Motorcycle enthusiast or not, Harley-Davidson is a part of our culture. It has played an integral part in our country’s military history. It is hugely popular amongst veterans. And, it is a corporation whose dealerships across the nation unilaterally support the military – like Woodstock Harley-Davidson, whose first-in-the-nation veterans memorial designed by U.S. Marine Corps veteran Timothy J. Crabb brings together veterans, civilians and bike enthusiasts under a beautiful garrison- size American flag uniting the eclectic crew.

The unique structure that houses the Harley-Davidson museum, restaurant and garage.

The Harley-Davidson Motor Co. founders

Harley-Davidson serial number 1

My husband and I pretending to ride a motorcycle. I think it counts;)

Rising Like Cinnamon Roll Dough

Yesterday was Pi Day, and, seeing as how my husband is in the sciences, I should have made a pie. I feel like a bad wife. He picked up the pieces by baking a quiche for dinner. I did redeem myself by making sweet cinnamon roles.

My husband is both scientist and chef;)

You know what makes baking even more fun than it already is? Baking with my daughters. So my oldest worked with me, baked alongside me and took over. Yes, she has grown into a fine young baker, this child of mine.

So, yesterday afternoon, after we threw on our aprons and mixed up a batch of dough, we waited until it rose, then we punched it down, rolled it out, sprinkled some sugar and cinnamon on it and let it rise once gain.

It is always amazing how so many varied ingredients become something so delicious!

What a perfect analogy for life. We rise, we get punched down, and then we rise again. We go through trials – little ones, like our kids not sleeping through the night or laundry piling up like Mount Rushmore, as well as big ones, like illnesses, finances, death. Our faith lives follow suit. There are times when our faith is strong – it is easy to trust and keep plugging along. Then there are times when our faith wanes – we start to doubt. We wonder if we are following the plan. But then something comes along and we know that we are exactly where we need to be.

Like this dough ~ it fought to rise, we punched it down, we rolled it flat, and then, after forty minutes, it became exactly what it was meant to be.

In the midst of trials, let yourself rise, and then, when you are flattened, when you feel that you can’t go on, find the ingredients, find the people who will help you rise again. Let them be the perfect combination of encouragement, honesty and kindness that lifts you up. Lean on God; give Him your burdens, thank Him for the people He has put in your path. Then, be the person you were meant to be ~ strengthened by the people who lift you up and encouraged by grace.

Rise ... and then be that person who helps others to rise, too ...

The perfect combination of ingredients allows the dough to rise.

And then we punch it down -- but it wants to defy us.

But still we punch it down...

We flatten it... all in the name of perfection.

But then we give it a little sugar and encouragement.

We baby it a bit, and roll it up.

We set the stage for greatness.

And it becomes perfect -- wonderfully made, hearty and perfect. 

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. My girls and I went to Mass and received ashes as we enter into the Holy season of Lent.

Christians around the world mark the beginning of this deeply reflective time inclusive of both sacrifice and a call to a deeper relationship with Christ with the placing of ashes on their foreheads.

Ashes transport us back to the Jewish custom of repentance through stripping off clothes, putting on sackcloth and sitting in ashes. 

The placing of ashes coincides with these words: “Remember, man, you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” or “Turn away from sin, and be faithful to the Gospel.”

How true are those words. In the receiving of ashes, we are reminded of both the brevity of our life on Earth and the tremendous yearning God has for our souls.

One Lenten activity my children have enjoyed is coloring in a Lenten coloring book from The Little Way.

As Catholics, our hope is in the Resurrection, but our strength comes from the crucifixion. We cannot separate these two events. We cannot gloss over the suffering of Christ by painting it with bunnies and flowers and an empty cross. The truth is that the tomb was empty, but only because, in God’s act of redemptive suffering and love, Jesus suffered an agonizing and unimaginable death.

Perhaps some of us struggle to embrace the joy of the Resurrection in this very moment. Perhaps the pain is too deep or too raw to see past the hurt. In walking the Lenten journey, in focusing on sacrifice and in meditating on the stations of the cross, we find compassion in Christ. He never asks us to do more than He already has done. He understands our pain. He suffers right along with us. He walks the road – carrying his own cross. He pours his love out in blood. He extends forgiveness in the most difficult of circumstances.

If you are suffering this Lent, if you struggle to see the hope in the Resurrection, walk the journey with Christ. Let His compassion and strength travel with you. Let Him embrace you and suffer with you. 

And then, on that glorious Resurrection Sunday, when the tomb is empty and only the burial cloths remain, let Him soften your hurt and grow your hope. Let Him claim you as His own.

For those who are on the fence, do not be afraid to explore the suffering of Christ – Protestants and Catholics alike can find strength in walking the road to Calvary. For when we look into the face of the suffering Christ, when we see his wounds (and this can be through a crucifix like this one from the traveling Shroud of Turin exhibit or through the vivid imagery we find in Scripture), we find love in its truest form.

Beautiful People, One Beautiful Horse, One Gorgeous February Day

After a rough start to my February, I had an unexpected opportunity to photograph some beautiful young women and a sweet horse on a quaint farm in surprising February warmth.

There is something about a rustic barn and farming equipment that makes me long for the quiet of the country.

The sixty degree weather in the middle of this Chicago winter brought more than a few breaths of fresh air my way. As I headed into the brown fields, the country muck and dirt gave me the opportunity to clear my head and the sun shining brilliantly over the fields of dormant grass waiting patiently for the spring stirred my soul and inspired some beautiful images.

It was tough to decide whether to put this in monochrome or brilliant color, but, in the end, I liked the beautiful intensity of this black-and-white version.

Horses are gifts from God. Horses can look you in the eye and tell a story. Horses can read emotions and reflect them as a mirror ~ and beg you to release anxiety and merely live in the moment.

Time for a Buddy close-up!

Horses are a mirror to the soul. They see us for who we truly are.

Horses can make you laugh, force a smile and show you the way.

The smile on her face is all from her Buddy!

Horses bond with us.

Horses heal.

Horses stir the soul.

Horses pave the way for our journey.

Horses do not care about yesterday or tomorrow. Horses care only about today – this moment. This journey.

Horses can know our hearts even when we do not speak.

They long for reciprocal love and compassion.

They bring us to the edge of the sunset and beyond.

Horses take advantage of the indescribable sun and balmy February weather in Chicago (without thinking about the inevitable brutal return of winter), and begged me to do the same.

Horses are innately beautiful, inspire big dreams of little girls and help to make the journeys of those now-women just a little clearer.