To Know is to Love

Read John 15:1-17. You’ll get it.

I think I might be updating the blog a little more frequently than my anticipated once every two weeks. There’s just so much to capture and share here in my little trove of digital memories!

Fun Stuff.

To start, I made a purchase two weeks ago that has revolutionized my life here. Two words: water color. There’s a great little store nearby called The Flying Tiger that sells booklets and paint sets and I finally caved. It brings so much joy to the everyday ebb and flow. Did I mention they make great wall decorations?

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This Friday, to celebrate the feast of St. Valentine, I started the morning with mass. Afterwards, I took an hour or so to pray and reflect in the adoration chapel and some other meditation spots in the Cathedral. I refreshed myself on the story of St. Valentine. Side note: he was pretty boss.

After that, Avery and I had our ritual Friday visit to An Tobar Nua and finished the study of Ruth for this week. We took the scenic route home by the canal and finally visited NUI’s main building, AKA the only one you’ll be able to find on Google if you look up the school. I can see why.

That night, we had a Galentine’s celebration with dinner and a play. The Pasta Factory did not disappoint: it was tiny and charming and delicious. The play, as it turned out, was a one woman show and a commentary on the nature of death and existentialism. Good thing it was only 8 euro.

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On Saturday, Avery and I set out for a day trip to Limerick. We started out at the Milk Market. Just before entering the big white tent, we came across a book sale table and found some old European copies of the Harry Potter books. I geeked out a little. I refrained from buying them because I have already bought (and brought) so many books, but needless to say, the temptation was high.

The Milk Market itself was a hoot. It was exactly what you would want from a weekend Farmer’s market, complete with freshly made goods, extravagant desserts, live music, cute trinkets, thrift clothing, records, and even homemade Irish wood carvings.

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After the market, we toured King John’s Castle, which ended up taking around two hours. There was lots of interactive and engaging history within the indoor exhibit so that by the time you went outside to see and explore the castle itself, you had all the backstory you needed to bring it to life. Spoiler alert: Johnny was not so nice to the Irish (or Robin Hood).

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Sunday morning, an Orange weather warning was issued, but I went outside anyway. The winds were brutal, but the sun was shining and the Earth was wet and refreshing. Sundays are usually pretty deserted here because people are either home or hungover, so my walk to mass was desolate and so peaceful. Mass was wonderful and the choir at St. Mary’s absolutely kills. Fun fact: the final song was You Raise Me Up (by Josh Groban), which was in their book of hymns. I got a kick out of that.

After mass, it was still pretty sunny, so I hung around the Claddagh for a bit on my own to read some Scripture and enjoy the view. I walked back into town, got a tea, perused a couple spots down Shop Street, popped into the Cathedral for some adoration, and then meandered back to my apartment. Guys, do you know what this means? I walked all around Galway on my own from memory. It’s almost like I live here or something.

Deep Stuff.

Someone once told me I’m a powerhouse. As I said in a previous post, I have three main goals for my spiritual growth while I’m abroad. Lately, I think I’ve been entering into the second – rediscovering and reclaiming the Holy Standards of Love. Specifically, loving myself. Eek, cheesy?

Let me break it down. Sunday morning, I mentioned the crazy weather and my walk to mass. I had my headphones in and pressed shuffle on my worship playlist. “Highlands” and “Behold” both came on first (Hillsong). With the cool winds tossing me around and the sun shining through the trees, the melodies and lyrics filled me up and reminded me of how much I love my God. I was absolutely overwhelmed with tenderness and joy and thankfulness.

As the morning progressed, I pondered: how did I get here, to love my Lord so much? It is so common in our Christian culture to idolize the “moment.” The moment where the lights are low, the music is loud, someone is speaking inspiring words into a microphone, your arms are out and Jesus enters your heart. And everyone’s got to have that “moment,” you know? That’s when you start loving God.

Here’s my counter theory. That “moment” (that only some people experience) isn’t love. It’s a great moment, but it’s one of attraction; the same way you might be overcome with feeling when you first meet someone you like, whether it’s platonic or romantic. You feel so much, and you think, what a cool person that I want to know more about! That’s a great thing to have, but it is just that: a moment. A beginning.

I’ve been fortunate to have moments like that, but it’s not where my Love has come from. I have grown into this Love for God by knowing more and more about Him. By studying Him, engaging with Him even when I didn’t want to, by putting myself in His presence whether or not I felt a thing. I love God because there are seasons I can’t be dragged away from the chapel and seasons it takes everything in me just to get to Sunday mass. No matter what, I choose God, because I have known Him. What I feel comes from what I know.

With all this pressure on having one “moment” you realize you love God and feel His love, you leave out the beauty of getting to know and getting to Love Him. Just like we do with the people we have in our lives here on Earth.

Okay, soap box. So how does it relate to *gag* learning to love myself? Here it is: to know is to love. Like with God, there isn’t going to be one life changing instance where my heart is cured and I finally love Emily. To know me is to love me. To learn about me and find those things to cherish and appreciate. In the context of self-love, this means engaging more and more with what I know about me: I am a daughter of Christ. That’s really all it’s going to take. It will be slow and there will be ups and downs, but this is what I have discovered. To begin loving yourself you must acknowledge (ahem, know) the only thing that makes you worth knowing: your identity in the God who Loves you. Embracing your inner powerhouse.

PS. There is so much more to tell about my spiritual journey here, way too much to include in the blog, but I cannot wait to dish when I get back. Also, a note of equal importance: I bought this sweater at a thrift store and I love it.