when people ask me about the best day of my life most people say something sweet and sentimental about a childhood baseball game or a great five birthday party. when i think of the happiest day of my life i automatically thing back to my sophomore year of high school, the date was January 21st and i was climbing onto a bus to spend the most time away from my parents that i ever had in my life. i was terrified and delighted to be going to Washington DC with my big sister and some of my good friends from church. on the bus i was on i didn't really know anyone, but after 24 hours sitting in that small of an area with the same people you tend to make friends. i made lots, whom i still talk to on a weekly, and even daily, basis. these were the people i fell in love with in a 24 hour time span. but this is all leading up to the best day of my life. that was not it. that was the bus ride to the greatest day of my life.
we arrived in a crappy hotel on the outskirts of our nations capitol. i remember really wishing i had a cell phone so i could call my mom and dad and talk to my brothers, i only had four at the time. so i'd steal jessie's phone and call when she wasn't looking. i had great times in that crappy hotel. i ate lots of danishes and got to know people i'd known my whole life, a lot better. my sister and i roomed with two other girls from my church that i'd grown up with, we learned more about each other in that week together than we'd known in our whole lives on knowing each other. but again, this wasn't the greatest day of my life.
the greatest day of my life began with a kick. literally. my sister kicked me in her sleep and then the alarm went off to wake up. the four of us groaned out of bed and got dressed and dragged ourselves to the basement for morning prayer and then for danishes. we were each administered a Bag O' Breakfast with some fruit and a danish and a donut or two and most people politely hid it under their seat in the bus, i actually ate my breakfast, i knew today would be great and i was going to be prepared for greatness.
The bus took off and the priest assigned to our bus began the daily rosary, bless his heart he was the most devout man i've ever met and we all grew to love him, though some groaned when he walked up the isles with his Shorter Christian Prayer books and his basket of rosaries, we loved him because of it. We envied his faith and fervor. But today we all especially dreaded having to mumble along to what seemed like thousands of Hail Mary's, it was 5 in the morning after all. The sun wasn't even up and it was cold.
The ride to our destination was approximately 1 rosary and 1 morning prayer away from our hotel, that is to say, about half an hour. As we pulled up to the Verizon Center and made the final sign of the cross we saw how incredibly long a line there was. About three city blocks worth of people and it's not like they were standing in a single file line. No, this line was about 15 people across. So it's safe to assume there were probably two thousand people there when we arrived. We pulled up to the back of the line and stepped out into the epic cold, pulling our jackets tighter and our hats lower and wishing we'd packed a set of ear muffs. But nobody complained. We were here for God and that's all that mattered, we offered it up and from that, we were blessed. But now i'm getting ahead of myself. Standing as a group of penguins, body to body, heat to heat, shivering and laughing and conversing with people you knew accepted you and wouldn't ridicule you for what you believed, not being afraid to speak your mind. That's what made me love these people. But again, i'm getting ahead of myself. If you know me, you know I do that when i'm excited. And let me tell you, my computer is irked right now because i'm typing so quickly and vigorously.
ANYWAY! The line moved as slowly as a snail in molasses and by the time we got into the building our feet were hurting. But our souls and our attitudes were ever higher as we climbed four flights of escalators to get to our seats. Yes, we were on the fourth level of an enormous building. And guess who's scared of heights. I am. I remember walking out and seeing how high we were and immediately my stomach sank and tears came to my eyes and I began to hyperventilate. So I let every file past me telling them I hadn't tied my shoe or some lame crap like that. When in reality, I was weak and let fear rule me. My sister was incredibly upset with me because she'd always wanted to see the pre-mass confessions and stories people would tell as people were coming in. and I remember being frustrated that she wouldn't just leave me to sit there alone. But my sister cared enough about me that she wanted me to experience it with her and i'm glad she did. A friend, one of the girls who was rooming with us, came looking. She saw me crying and my sister being mad and asked what was wrong. When I explained to her that iw as afraid of heights she said the most wonderful thing i've ever heard. She knelt down next to me and put a rosary in my hand and said
“see? When you hold this rosary you're holding hands with Mary, what could possibly go wrong while you're holding hands with Mary?” and all of a sudden, I felt braver and more confident. I let my sister and my friend lead me up to our seats, shaking all the way, gripping that rosary like it was a rope and I was hanging over a cliff, which I honestly felt was the situation. But I got to experience mass with a cardinal and a million and a half bishops and priests and when I heard these testimonies, I was strengthened in my cause and my heart was warmed and bravened and prepared for anything. I was doing God's work and that is worth doing even if death be the product. I was invinsible.
When mass was over we all exited the humongous room began The March. People handed us signs, which some took and some didn't. The most magical part of that march was being at the bottom of a hill and I turned and looked at the thousands of people behind me. And I saw smiles, I saw people singing and holding hands and people praying. Nuns, children, mothers, teens, old people. A coming together of people who, in their heart, knew something was wrong with what was happening in the world, and through god, knew that they could make a difference. I felt alive with the feeling of unity among us. I wasn't worried about staying with 'my group'. Everyone of those 400,000 people were my group. We all became a family in those few hours and I would sing with one group for a few feet and then i'd join another group and pray. I'd walk in silence or i'd sing on my own. And when I think back to the faces of the people around me that day. I saw god. I saw him in every one of those people. In every man woman and child. Because in that moment, we weren't ourselves, we were his channel. His message to the earth. We were his hand on earth making a difference.
As we passed buildings we'd see people peeking through their office windows, some would simply look with disdain, but it's the ones who would give us a thumbs up that kept us going. Such a small act, holding up your thumb, but in that act, affirming that you are one of us. One of God. One In God. When we did reach the Capitol Building there were countless roses and signs laid down at if at the foot of Jesus. People knelt to pray and cried and hugged and became one in one another. I sang with all of my heart that day. I believe God gave me this mediocre voice, but when I sing for him, somehow it's better, somehow it reaches people. I held hands with people i'd never met before. I hugged weeping grown men who'd seen war and even something like this brought them to their knees. People underestimate the powers of God all of the time and I never will again. When it ended and we had to go back to the hotel that night, I was absolutely devastated. I'd have sat in front of that building for the rest of my life and prayed and sung, not even eating, for the rest of my life. That is how powerful that feeling was. Knowing that you are doing good in the name of God and that everyone around you feels the exact same way. Knowing that they wouldn't call you names like the kids at school would, or roll their eyes at your passion because you look like a Jesus Freak.
Well I am a Jesus Freak. Shouldn't we all be? If 400,000 people could come together on a freezing cold day in January in Washington DC to protest abortion in the name of God, imagine what change one of us could do. It is the innocent child who knows God best. It is the educated man who realizes God's truth through the loss of that innocence. It is the love of one another, the fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves that brings us together and shows us what God's love truly is. “to lay down ones life...” has anyone really thought of those words. This doesn't necessarily mean to be a martyr and to actually physically die. But to deny oneself, one's life to become what God has called us to be, that is truly laying down one's life. Not laying down in death, but giving up what life they have to live to dedicate those years of breathing to the one who gave us air. It is insanity not to be so passionate. It is insanity to deny something so obvious as God's love. And I could get into the science of sub-atomic particles and crazy stuff like that but I have class soon and I know most of you have tuned out anyway. But the truth is, most of you who have tuned out, it's because you're scared of the truth. God is the truth.
“be not afraid. I go before you always. Come follow me. And I will give you rest.” the world wears us down. No one can deny that. Being 'of the world' kills us slowly. But if you've ever looked at a devout person, Catholic or not, you can tell that they are more alive. They are alive. They are living in stead of skating through life and being somewhat empty.
When I turned around and looked at the faces of the thousands of brothers and sisters traveling down the hill behind me, I was so filled with life that I was near tears and so full of passion and life that I could have floated right up to heaven right then. Everyone needs to experience something like that.
Love,
PSHathaway
we arrived in a crappy hotel on the outskirts of our nations capitol. i remember really wishing i had a cell phone so i could call my mom and dad and talk to my brothers, i only had four at the time. so i'd steal jessie's phone and call when she wasn't looking. i had great times in that crappy hotel. i ate lots of danishes and got to know people i'd known my whole life, a lot better. my sister and i roomed with two other girls from my church that i'd grown up with, we learned more about each other in that week together than we'd known in our whole lives on knowing each other. but again, this wasn't the greatest day of my life.
the greatest day of my life began with a kick. literally. my sister kicked me in her sleep and then the alarm went off to wake up. the four of us groaned out of bed and got dressed and dragged ourselves to the basement for morning prayer and then for danishes. we were each administered a Bag O' Breakfast with some fruit and a danish and a donut or two and most people politely hid it under their seat in the bus, i actually ate my breakfast, i knew today would be great and i was going to be prepared for greatness.
The bus took off and the priest assigned to our bus began the daily rosary, bless his heart he was the most devout man i've ever met and we all grew to love him, though some groaned when he walked up the isles with his Shorter Christian Prayer books and his basket of rosaries, we loved him because of it. We envied his faith and fervor. But today we all especially dreaded having to mumble along to what seemed like thousands of Hail Mary's, it was 5 in the morning after all. The sun wasn't even up and it was cold.
The ride to our destination was approximately 1 rosary and 1 morning prayer away from our hotel, that is to say, about half an hour. As we pulled up to the Verizon Center and made the final sign of the cross we saw how incredibly long a line there was. About three city blocks worth of people and it's not like they were standing in a single file line. No, this line was about 15 people across. So it's safe to assume there were probably two thousand people there when we arrived. We pulled up to the back of the line and stepped out into the epic cold, pulling our jackets tighter and our hats lower and wishing we'd packed a set of ear muffs. But nobody complained. We were here for God and that's all that mattered, we offered it up and from that, we were blessed. But now i'm getting ahead of myself. Standing as a group of penguins, body to body, heat to heat, shivering and laughing and conversing with people you knew accepted you and wouldn't ridicule you for what you believed, not being afraid to speak your mind. That's what made me love these people. But again, i'm getting ahead of myself. If you know me, you know I do that when i'm excited. And let me tell you, my computer is irked right now because i'm typing so quickly and vigorously.
ANYWAY! The line moved as slowly as a snail in molasses and by the time we got into the building our feet were hurting. But our souls and our attitudes were ever higher as we climbed four flights of escalators to get to our seats. Yes, we were on the fourth level of an enormous building. And guess who's scared of heights. I am. I remember walking out and seeing how high we were and immediately my stomach sank and tears came to my eyes and I began to hyperventilate. So I let every file past me telling them I hadn't tied my shoe or some lame crap like that. When in reality, I was weak and let fear rule me. My sister was incredibly upset with me because she'd always wanted to see the pre-mass confessions and stories people would tell as people were coming in. and I remember being frustrated that she wouldn't just leave me to sit there alone. But my sister cared enough about me that she wanted me to experience it with her and i'm glad she did. A friend, one of the girls who was rooming with us, came looking. She saw me crying and my sister being mad and asked what was wrong. When I explained to her that iw as afraid of heights she said the most wonderful thing i've ever heard. She knelt down next to me and put a rosary in my hand and said
“see? When you hold this rosary you're holding hands with Mary, what could possibly go wrong while you're holding hands with Mary?” and all of a sudden, I felt braver and more confident. I let my sister and my friend lead me up to our seats, shaking all the way, gripping that rosary like it was a rope and I was hanging over a cliff, which I honestly felt was the situation. But I got to experience mass with a cardinal and a million and a half bishops and priests and when I heard these testimonies, I was strengthened in my cause and my heart was warmed and bravened and prepared for anything. I was doing God's work and that is worth doing even if death be the product. I was invinsible.
When mass was over we all exited the humongous room began The March. People handed us signs, which some took and some didn't. The most magical part of that march was being at the bottom of a hill and I turned and looked at the thousands of people behind me. And I saw smiles, I saw people singing and holding hands and people praying. Nuns, children, mothers, teens, old people. A coming together of people who, in their heart, knew something was wrong with what was happening in the world, and through god, knew that they could make a difference. I felt alive with the feeling of unity among us. I wasn't worried about staying with 'my group'. Everyone of those 400,000 people were my group. We all became a family in those few hours and I would sing with one group for a few feet and then i'd join another group and pray. I'd walk in silence or i'd sing on my own. And when I think back to the faces of the people around me that day. I saw god. I saw him in every one of those people. In every man woman and child. Because in that moment, we weren't ourselves, we were his channel. His message to the earth. We were his hand on earth making a difference.
As we passed buildings we'd see people peeking through their office windows, some would simply look with disdain, but it's the ones who would give us a thumbs up that kept us going. Such a small act, holding up your thumb, but in that act, affirming that you are one of us. One of God. One In God. When we did reach the Capitol Building there were countless roses and signs laid down at if at the foot of Jesus. People knelt to pray and cried and hugged and became one in one another. I sang with all of my heart that day. I believe God gave me this mediocre voice, but when I sing for him, somehow it's better, somehow it reaches people. I held hands with people i'd never met before. I hugged weeping grown men who'd seen war and even something like this brought them to their knees. People underestimate the powers of God all of the time and I never will again. When it ended and we had to go back to the hotel that night, I was absolutely devastated. I'd have sat in front of that building for the rest of my life and prayed and sung, not even eating, for the rest of my life. That is how powerful that feeling was. Knowing that you are doing good in the name of God and that everyone around you feels the exact same way. Knowing that they wouldn't call you names like the kids at school would, or roll their eyes at your passion because you look like a Jesus Freak.
Well I am a Jesus Freak. Shouldn't we all be? If 400,000 people could come together on a freezing cold day in January in Washington DC to protest abortion in the name of God, imagine what change one of us could do. It is the innocent child who knows God best. It is the educated man who realizes God's truth through the loss of that innocence. It is the love of one another, the fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves that brings us together and shows us what God's love truly is. “to lay down ones life...” has anyone really thought of those words. This doesn't necessarily mean to be a martyr and to actually physically die. But to deny oneself, one's life to become what God has called us to be, that is truly laying down one's life. Not laying down in death, but giving up what life they have to live to dedicate those years of breathing to the one who gave us air. It is insanity not to be so passionate. It is insanity to deny something so obvious as God's love. And I could get into the science of sub-atomic particles and crazy stuff like that but I have class soon and I know most of you have tuned out anyway. But the truth is, most of you who have tuned out, it's because you're scared of the truth. God is the truth.
“be not afraid. I go before you always. Come follow me. And I will give you rest.” the world wears us down. No one can deny that. Being 'of the world' kills us slowly. But if you've ever looked at a devout person, Catholic or not, you can tell that they are more alive. They are alive. They are living in stead of skating through life and being somewhat empty.
When I turned around and looked at the faces of the thousands of brothers and sisters traveling down the hill behind me, I was so filled with life that I was near tears and so full of passion and life that I could have floated right up to heaven right then. Everyone needs to experience something like that.
Love,
PSHathaway
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