The Empty Tabernacle

"They've closed the chapel at Brideshead, Bridey and the Bishop. Mummy's requiem was the last Mass said there. 

After she was buried the priest came in ... and took out the altar stone and put it in his bag

 ... and blew out the lamp in the sanctuary, 

and left the tabernacle open and empty,

as if from now on it was always to be Good Friday." - Brideshead Revisted

Seeing the empty tabernacle and stripped altar is my favorite part of Good Friday. Like the sede vacante period, this emptiness only happens once in a while, and so is a powerful reminder of why we love the persons who normally fill that space. The dramatic, sparse mourning of the Triduum sanctifies the sorrow and loneliness that all humans experience. 

Like last year when I was newly engaged, this Lent has been full of exciting new plans that have kept me from feeling somber. But honestly, the past two years have been like one long Lent of underemployment, debt, and uncertainty. The Betrothed and I spent lonely Easters last year on different continents. We had a grainy Skype conversation and vowed "Next year, in Jerusalem!" 

On Christmas Eve, God finally answered our prayers with a job offer for me in New York. I've relocated for love, and finally live in the same state as my future husband. So now Lent is over and we are in Holy Saturday until June 15, waiting, praying, and keeping watch over empty space. I live alone in the apartment that will soon be our home. Different schedules and locations mean we often sit solo in church pews. Every weekend is a puzzle of who will drive where. It's hard for our lives to be so divided. 

The ache and emptiness that hit me when we started long-distance dating is still present. I long for unity with the man I love, and finally to share a home with him and God. I'm not a model Catholic woman, patiently suffering. Too often, I have given in to self-pity and despair. I worry that I have wasted this cross or have failed at being a witness of Christian joy. Sure, secular world, don't shack up with your beloved. Instead, be as miserable as I am! 

Fellow engaged woman Elizabeth recently pointed out that feeling a longing for marriage during the Triduum is actually quite appropriate.  Christ's Passion and Resurrection were His greatest expression of love for His bride, the Church. Why shouldn't we want the same spousal self-giving and unity? So this weekend, when I wish for the millionth time that we were married already, I'll try to unite that wishing to Christ's great desire and love for the Church. I'll think of the great mystery that The Betrothed and I will soon become united to, and its promise that God's people will not face emptiness forever. 

Photos:
1. Good Friday 2013 at Holy Innocents, Manhattan. 

2, 3, 5. Good Friday 2008 at College of William and Mary Catholic Campus Ministry Chapel, Williamsburg, VA

4. Good Friday 2013 at St. Francis Church St. Anthony Chapel, Manhattan

Thank You

It's no secret that long-distance relationships are tough. Holidays are one of the worst parts. I usually forget this until the day rolls around, then the loneliness makes me remember. 

There are so many festive things my fiance and I have never done together. We've never decorated a Christmas tree, or carved pumpkins, or dyed Easter eggs. We've watched fireworks together once. Our first Valentine's Day was postponed because of a snowstorm and car trouble. We've never fasted or worn ashes in the same place. We're always apart on Christmas and Easter - we make do with Gaudete and Palm Sunday. Ringing in the New Year works out, but only after a pricey solo flight to his hometown. We still have fun even if we have to go to celebrations alone, but it's hard not to spend special days with the person you love most. Things will be so much easier when we are making our travel and celebration plans together.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving has always been ours. Three years ago, we had known each other only three months, but he drove down with me to meet my family. Today will be the fourth time he's eaten turkey off my parents' wedding china and played board games with my siblings on Black Friday. And so, I'm grateful. 

- for how my family has always welcomed the man I love into our home and our traditions

- for having my entire family all together in one place for the first time in months

- that this is our last holiday season playing schedule tetris and crossing fingers that we can see each other

- that I have time to visit my fiance next week, too

- that we can work together in the kitchen making sweet potato casserole

- that God sent a funny, handsome historian who would drive almost 500 round trip miles up and down the east coast, just to wind up at my door. And then next month drive 500 more. Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart. I love you!

We're getting married!

Now for the good news: what I held off announcing on Ash Wednesday is that The Beau and I are engaged! (Should I call him The Betrothed now?) He popped the question on Friday night, starting off what was definitely the best Birthday/President's Day/Mardi Gras weekend ever.

I had suspected something might be up, but Mark completely surprised me by asking the minute I arrived in New Jersey. My Bolt bus was late, we had to reschedule dinner, the Newark train station was confusing, and then I couldn't find him on the train platform when I arrived. Once the crowd cleared and we met up I was ready to lug my bags off. 

But then he said "Wait, I want to ask you something...do you like sacraments?" 

Then in a moment that was both in slow motion and over too fast, he knelt down and asked if I would like to enter into the sacrament of matrimony with him. I dropped all my bags and managed to squeak out "Are you serious?!?!" and then "Yes, of course!" I proceeded to laugh uncontrollably in disbelief for the next five minutes as we ran to catch our dinner reservation. The next day we called our families, and then hosted a dinner party where we told most of The Betrothed's friends. (This engagement party had been cleverly disguised as a birthday party for me. Sneaky!)

The train platform was really the perfect spot. Not only are trains romantic locations in old movies, but this one is next door to his church. It's the same place where I spied him in the campus ministry center, waiting for me to get back from thesis research in New York. And it's pretty symbolic of our 2.5 year long-distance relationship, punctuated by trips up and down the eastern seaboard. 

My ring is also perfect, which shows how well he knows me. The diamonds are from his grandmother's engagement ring, and he had the setting custom made based on a 1940s design he liked. I'd be a fool to reject a man who can invest such great material culture research. 

Being engaged feels both normal and surreal at the same time. In many ways our relationship is the same it has always been, and yet we can finally speak of hopes and dreams that were under wraps until now. It's so great to talk openly about things from wedding readings to our future children to what kind of drapes we would buy for our home. So the past few days have been full of "OMG we're getting married," "future husband," "future wife," and of course, many recitations of this classic Seinfeld scene.