It’s not surprising that after the floating Lady episode, my internal turbulence has settled into a nice coasting.  I went to my first confession, and while it didn’t feel life-altering, it certainly wasn’t soul-crushing.  I still don’t know our priest very well, but he’s a relaxed and gracious person who made the confession experience pretty easy, and I’m really glad to have it off my chest the time that I stole my friend’s Barbie’s shoe when I was six.

The next Mass we attend, they play one of my favorite hymns (well, it has different words, but the melody is at least familiar, and it’s my favorite melody), and I’m compelled to actually lift my hands during worship.  Nothing too exciting – like I said, a nice coasting.

Then, one day, in spite of having a bunch of kids in my house that needed tending to, I find myself glued to the television after Lukus has just texted me that white smoke has been released from the Vatican, and there’s finally a Latin phrase that I’m familiar with: “Habemus Papam! We have a pope!”  I’ve known very little about Pope Benedict.  Everyone’s loved him, but personally, I just couldn’t find that connection with him.  Even when I was a complete NON-Catholic, I, like many other non-Catholics, still loved Pope John Paul II.  When he died, I felt compelled to seek out a Catholic book store to buy a candle and light it for him – even though Lukus thought I was weird, and I had no idea why Catholics lit candles for dead people.  It just seemed the thing to do.  And during this process, while I trusted that Benedict was a great pope, I just didn’t have the same natural affection for him that I did for John Paul.  I was kind of excited that we would be getting someone new upon our entrance into the Church.

I know the pope thing is a difficult one for Protestants to get over – I was the same way.  I viewed him as someone living like a king, giving orders that the faithful had to obey without ever criticizing.  But I’ve since learned that’s not the case.  The thing is, Catholics understand that the Holy Spirit can still operate through imperfect people, and while the pope is supposed to be a righteous man, the trust is still in God to protect His Church through flawed vessels.  And the pope can be wrong on a lot of things – which I never knew Catholics believed – but it’s when he’s speaking on dogma and doctrine that Catholics believe he’s speaking with the authority of the Holy Spirit.  I’ve also known a lot of Protestants who think that Catholics worship the pope – which maybe some do, but they’d be in error to do so.  The things is, Catholics believe in giving honor to whom honor is due, like children honoring their parents, or honoring the elderly – and the pope is considered an elder and a spiritual father.  And yet, so many Protestants are more willing to honor government leaders that they don’t like or don’t agree with because “it’s the office they respect” before they’re willing to honor spiritual leaders.  That seems a little flip-flopped to me.  It also doesn’t seem fitting that there would be authority structures set up in every other area of life – the family, business, judicially – and yet there be no authority in the Church.  Rejection of proper authority in Jesus’ Church has left us splintered and crippled.

So after much thought and consideration, I came to understand the role of the pope, and I was excited to experience the process of getting a new pope at the very beginning of our journey.  So I watched the t.v. with great anticipation.  I had no idea who Cardinal Bergoglio was when he emerged out onto the balcony.  Upon first impression, he was really underwhelming.  He wasn’t smiling, he didn’t offer up any deep words of wisdom, and his prayer was very simple.  But that underwhelmed feeling quickly gave way to immense joy and excitement as I began to research and hear what kind of man this was.  I was already beginning to feel like he was this wonderful, warm, generous grandpa, full of fun stories, and always available.  I began to think, “How wonderful and blessed we are that we Catholics get to have an earthly father who loves us and looks after us and shows us what our heavenly Father is like toward us!”

We live in a world of broken families, a fatherless generation, a generation that doesn’t understand what honoring your parents even means.  Our earthly fathers have failed us in so many ways, leaving a blank or ugly canvas of what God looks like to us.  But just like God gave the Israelites Moses, then Joshua, then Samuel, to be fathers to a nation in their time, God has given us this earthly father to point back to Himself.  The pope isn’t divine, he’s not perfect, I don’t have to blindly agree with everything he says or does.  But when our personal experience has destroyed the concept of what a father means, we have this loving, patient, forgiving, wise man who can be that spiritual foster-father, showing us what God is truly like.

I already love this pope.  I know I will never meet him, that he doesn’t know my name, but it’s not necessary.  What I learned from those seminarians in Rome, and what it taught me about the saints applies to the pope as well.  We are a family, and space and time don’t matter.  Even knowing each other personally doesn’t matter.  Our spirits know one another through THE Spirit.  The pope knows me.  He doesn’t know my name, but his spirit knows my spirit because we are one in the Spirit of God.  And like all good fathers and grandfathers should do, he inspires me to pursue God, to pursue holiness, to pursue generosity, and love.  Habeo Papa – I have a pope.

Pope Francis was inaugurated on St. Joseph’s feast day – which is exactly four years to the day that we met those seminarians in Rome.  God’s providence is astounding, and I can’t think of a better time to become Catholic.

I knew a girl in high school who was so enamored with Jesus that she seemed to walk in a golden bubble everywhere she went.  Little miracles seemed to follow her around – random strangers at the local burger joint would get healed when she prayed for them.  When her car broke down it was because God had prepared a divine appointment for her at the garage where a mechanic was waiting to hear the gospel she had to share, and the big, tough guy would be in tears by the time she left.  When she was $247 short for her missions trip that would be leaving the next day, she’d get a check in the mail for $247 from someone she’d never met.  Golden.  Bubble.  I envied her.  I envied the little gifts she got from God, but not only that, I envied her unquenchable optimism, her complete trust in Jesus, her persistent faith that oozed out of her day and night.  She thought she was normal, and seemed to kind of think everyone who loved Jesus spent days fasting and praying, studying scripture, and that she was nothing special – that everyone got these little gifts.  To this day, her face seems to glow in spite of the pains she’s been through, and she seems to already be in heaven because she walks so closely with Jesus.

So it’s not fun to confess, but yeah, I envy her.  I’ve had my fair share of little gifts from God, but I want more, and yet, I admit that I haven’t walked with Him as she has.  I want to, I want to be closer to God, but I’m easily distracted and worn out by life, and I guess I just don’t have the same optimistic disposition she was naturally born with.  But I still want the little gifts – those small hints from God that He’s with you, that He’s speaking to you, that He’s happy with you.

Last Thursday night, the Thursday before Easter, all of the RCIA candidates were expected to attend the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, which commemorates, obviously, the Lord’s Supper and Jesus washing the feet of His disciples.  At this particular mass, priests in every parish across the globe, following the example of Christ, wash the feet of some of the people in the parish.  Even the Pope takes off his outer garments and washes the feet of the people in whatever place in the world he’s chosen to go to that year.  Lukus and I happen to attend the cathedral of our archdiocese, a “cathedral” essentially being the mother church of a small region, which means that it’s also the home church of the archbishop of that region.  I knew that a couple of my friends in RCIA were going to get their feet washed by the archbishop that night, and while I was excited for them, I was a bit envious – not much, just a little.

We arrived at the Mass and started to sit in our seats when we saw our friends across the aisle and decided to move spots.  As we started to sit next to them (one of whom was pre-planned to have her feet washed), a guy squeezed in to our spot before all of us could fit in, so we were forced to move two rows back.  After moving seats twice, we finally settled into our spots with me sitting in the aisle seat.  When the foot washing ceremony began, it was very moving to see the archbishop remove his outer garments and in a simple, white robe prepare to wash the feet of some of the people.  Then, the lady behind me (who has been involved in RCIA and knows we’re new) leaned forward to inform me that I’d be getting my feet washed.  Oh dear, I wasn’t ready for that!  I hadn’t properly groomed my feet – you know, washing your feet so you can have your feet washed?  I was nervous and not sure if she was totally correct, except then I noticed there was a towel next to my seat.  Well, okay then.

I gotta say, having your feet washed is a combination of awkwardness, humility, and thankfulness.  But more than anything, I knew it was a Little Gift.  It wasn’t necessarily the foot-washing itself that spoke volumes to me, it was more of an “it’s the thought that counts” kinda thing – just a small sign from God that He was thinking of me, that He knew the desires of my heart, and He was meeting me in that moment.  Our little game of musical chairs had led me to a moment I’ll always treasure.

Later that weekend, I received a book from the archbishop about some questions I had asked him a couple of months ago.  It was a simple gesture, but a significant one for someone so busy to remember a conversation he had months ago, and yet still be mindful enough to pass along a book regarding a topic that’s so close to my heart.  The archbishop truly has a pastor’s heart, but I knew, too, that it was God encouraging me to pursue that passion.  Little Gifts.

But even that wasn’t all.  Saturday before Easter was the night of our confirmation into the Catholic Church.  We had a lot of getting ready to do that day, but Lukus stumbled upon a package at our door.  It was from Father Stephen – the seminarian we’d met in Rome (now a priest) with whom we’d reunited and even gotten to visit with in Alabama three years later.  Since reuniting, we’ve been able to keep in touch through Facebook, and he was aware of our upcoming confirmation.  We opened the package, and inside was a lovely wooden box with a beautifully carved cross on the top.  Inside were three necklaces, each with a medallion attached – one for Lukus with Saint Joseph’s image on it (Lukus’ chosen patron saint), and two for me with Saint Catherine of Siena and Saint Teresa of Avila (my chosen patron saints – I figured I’d need two saints so I wouldn’t wear one out!).  Father Stephen and Father Eric (the other seminarian in Rome) played such a significant role in us even getting interested in Catholicism in the first place, not to mention the miracle of finding them again.  But also, Father Stephen has pastored me through Facebook when I’ve struggled with questions and doubts.  The only thing lacking from our confirmation was that they wouldn’t be there.  And yet, through such a thoughtful and timely gesture, he would be there, which meant so much to us.  Little Gifts.

One of the sponsors in our RCIA group posted on Facebook how she hadn’t had much time to focus on Good Friday and the cross.  She took a moment during the beautiful spring day to go outside, close her eyes, and pray and reflect on the crucifixion.  As she was praying the verse “and darkness covered the face of the earth…” she opened her eyes to discover that the sky had gone from bright and sunny, to cloudy and cool, and the power of that moment was awesome to her.

These Little Gifts are precious.  They keep our hope going.  They remind us that God is with us, that He’s actually paying attention.  He hasn’t forgotten, we’re not on our own just trying to make up for our sins all the time.  We’re in a relationship, where God Himself is acting as a lover wooing His beloved ever closer.  He’s already given us everything – our very existence, His own Son, eternal life, forgiveness…and yet, He is love, and the giving never ends because His love never ends.  We may not all be like my friend from high school, walking through life in a golden bubble.  We may get preoccupied and cynical.  We may not invest enough time in our relationship with God, but He’s still leaving us love notes, and surprises, and Little Gifts all over the place.  If only we pay attention…

Any Little Gifts you’ve gotten from God lately?