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

7 Commuting Quick Takes

Thanks to Jen for hosting the link-up! Head over to Conversion Diary for more quick takes! 

By Sophie Blackall for MTA Arts for Transit

1. I'm no stranger to commuting. My high school was a 45 minute drive from my house, so my family developed a complex "No Child Left Behind" carpool system to get there. During my volunteer year in St. Louis, every morning I would bail out of my roommate's car at a strategic red light and then hop on the Metrolink train. When I worked in DC I took my car, then a bus, and then the Metro Orange Line to get to work from my parents' house.
   
   But now I have become something else  - a New York commuter. On Christmas Eve I got the call offering me a museum job in Brooklyn. So now I finally live in the same state as The Betrothed (hooray!) and travel between New Jersey and NYC every day. E.B. White once wrote about "the New York of the commuter — the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night." Gee thanks. If you had to deal with post-Sandy PATH train closures too, you'd appreciate our scrappiness more, Mr. Charlotte's Web.


2. It's funny how my attitude about working in NYC has evolved. As I was packing to leave, I was all panicky. "Ahhhhck I work in the hippest borough and everyone around me will have a fabulous Sex and the City life and all my clothes are uncool!"
   
   Then I actually rode the subway, and realized that New York is full of ordinary people just trying to get to work in practical puffy coats. Phew. 
   
   My emotions then went through this weird adjustment cycle that I've noticed every time I get to know a new city. First I am nervous and scared of dangerous things lurking around every corner. Then after a few weeks I get jaded and homesick. "This place isn't that special. They have Chipotle like everywhere else!" Then I finally do some exploring and the place starts to feel like it's mine. Maybe it was my umpteenth trip to the Trader Joe's in the 1923 bank building on Court Street, but at some point I've realized this is my town too now.


3. This piece about "How to dress like a New Yorker" is absolutely true: people choose accessories for their functionality. After a week of commuting I knew I needed to invest in some sturdy booties and a huge bag to stuff my lunch, tea thermos, and reading material in. I always scoffed at designer purses, but now I get why women invest in a solid leather handbag.
   


4. My office has been involved with a lot of the events for Grand Central Terminal's 100th birthday. It's definitely one of the best public spaces I've ever seen. The Main Concourse is so lovely it makes me cry - not just because of the gorgeous ceiling, but because I have to deal with ugly Penn Station every day! Did you know there was an earlier Penn that was also gorgeous? Legendary Gilded Age designers McKim, Mead, and White made it beautiful, and then in the 1960s they tore it down. Thanks, Madison Square Garden, thanks a lot.
   
   

   

   I could be hanging out here every day! You're killing me, smalls!

   
   The only happy ending is that Penn became a martyr for the historic preservation movement, inspiring the City to protect Grand Central from the same fate. The Garden's permit is soon up for review, and some groups are pushing for an overhaul of the whole complex.


5. I've been playing morning Tetris with my train times, trying to figure out where I can hit up daily Mass on my way to the office. Our Lady of Victory near Wall Street is close to the subway with lots of morning options. St. Francis on West 31st is famous for its convenient confession schedule. Because of when my train rolls in to Penn, I can either be early or late for one of their morning Masses. On Wednesday I caught the end of the 7am and then the beginning of the 7:30, like a kid in an old-timey movie theater. At the Offertory I ran off to work, thinking, "This is where I came in."



St. Francis of Assisi Church, from jimcintosh's Flickr stream



6. I've gotten hooked on transit maps, especially this Tumblr of them. A few weeks ago I got to hear a talk by Massimo Vignelli, the modernist designer who made a controversial NYC subway map in the late 1970s. He made an uncluttered geometric diagram, but people still wanted the twisty, wavy spaghetti strands they were used to. As he put it "When you are taking a train, how it gets from Point A to Point B is none of your business!" He was recently vindicated when the MTA realized his design was the only one that would work for a digital app. Ha.
   

   

   Via Minkwell.com

7. Of course, I see all kinds of random people on the train. In the morning on my NJ Transit platform, I hear lots of bougie First World Problems like the architect coming to fix someone's door or how there was NOWHERE to get decent lamb shanks on Friday night. The subway is more diverse, of course. Sometimes there are hipsters, sometimes packs of school kids. I wonder about the conservatively dressed lady with the black Korn backpack. Did she steal it from her son? To the similarly mom-like lady rocking the fuchsia House of Dereon bag from Newark to the World Trade Center - respect.
   
   One night taking the R train to Park Slope, I saw a guy in Timberland boots reading a book by one of my favorite college professors. "Omigosh I know that guy!" I cried out. The reader was nice but a little weirded out. I had better luck with a well dressed older couple going uptown on the 2. They reminded me of my Mom's parents. The wife was wearing a killer pair of black boots with gold sparkly rivets all up the legs. I kept sneaking peeks at them without staring. As I got off at Penn, I just turned to her and said "Ma'am, your boots are freaking awesome." She smiled and thanked me. I was glad to be a part of her own commuter stories that day. 

7 Habemus Papam Quick Takes

1. Where were you when they announced the new Pope? My sister and I had a pact that whoever heard first would text the other. I was determined to keep up my streak of seeing Habemus Papam announcements live, even though there is no TV or video streaming access in my office. So when the words "White Smoke!" exploded across Facebook, I ran for my museum's education computer lab. I watched database training videos with the Vatican YouTube feed on in the background. The only other person in there was watching RuPaul's Drag Race and probably thought I was the biggest loser ever, but I don't care. 


2. To add to my earlier analogies, I realized that getting a new Pope is like when a new baby is born into a family. Even though you have no idea about this stranger's personality or talents, you love them immediately, and know without a doubt that they belong to you all. There is something about putting on the white cassock that makes a random cardinal instantly beloved.


3. Or maybe it's the adorable awkwardness. Did you ever notice how nervous a new Pope is at first? It's not like he's a presidential candidate who's been doing photo ops for months beforehand. At Benedict XVI's inaugural Mass eight years ago he looked super tense and unsure of how to bless the cheering crowds. 


4. So when Pope Francis came out on the balcony and just stood there, I thought "Oh no, he is scared to DEATH." But then he started smiling. And cracking jokes. And talking with his hands. How could we not fall in love? He's going to do just fine.
   
   

   

   L'Ossorvatore Romano

5. The Betrothed was educated by Jesuits in New Orleans, so of course he's overjoyed that the new pontiff comes from the Society of Jesus. Right now we're  both chuckling over all the Jesuit conspiracy theories coming out of the woodwork. We're also shaking our heads at the Rad Trad internet freak-outs that a Jesuit Pope will start teaching heresy and stripping churches of anything traditional.
   
6. With all this talk of humble simplicity and Cardinal Mahony crowing on Twitter about how glad he is to be "LOW Church" again, I have only one very silly concern - *whisper* I really hope the vestments aren't ugly.There is already an entire papal sacristy of beautiful liturgical treasures that give glory to God and were crafted in love and devotion. Papa Francis could "shop his closet" for years without spending a thing.  There's a great Downton Abbey reference in this situation.
   
7. Overall I am just thrilled, excited, and overjoyed with goosebumps going down my arms. You can be sure I'll be geeking out for the inaugural Mass on Tuesday, the feast of St. Joseph. We have a new shepherd, and he comes from the Americas. He rides the bus and doesn't put on airs. He took the name of a peacemaker saint, the man to whom Christ said "Rebuild my Church." There is much rebuilding to do, and I can't wait to see how Papa Francis does it.

Changing Popes

Losing a Vicar of Christ feels like a kick in the gut, a punch in the chest. It's like saying a final goodbye to a grandfather or your favorite teacher/mentor. It makes the Bark of Peter feel like a rickety canoe in a hurricane. It makes you want to call your family, and hug your friends. You can't help feeling a little abandoned. Suddenly, the symbol of your identity is gone, and you don't know how to go forward. 

The day Pope Benedict announced his retirement all I wanted to do was run into every church in New York City. "I need to be with my people!" my heart cried. On my way to the office I stopped at St. Peter's at 22 Barclay in lower Manhattan. (Greek revival 1834, oldest parish in New York.) I couldn't find the words to pray, so I just sat there with Jesus and pondered the papal tiara above the altar. Christ is the One who put it there, and He's the only man who will ever need to be the Church's savior.

St. Peter, St. Paul, and a crucifix painting that St. Elizabeth Seton prayed before

The departure of a pope is also exciting. This only happens a few times in a century. If the Easter Vigil is the Super Bowl of Catholicism, a conclave is the World Cup. Better start gearing up on your College of Cardinal stats. If you are as enterprising as my friend Steve, you can make a bracket. Nothing beats the absolute thrill of hearing "Habemus Papam!"

 It's eerie how The Betrothed and I just spent an evening sorting through his box of World Youth Day mementos. (We were both at Toronto 2012, but sadly there is no secretly prophetic photo where one of us obliviously walks past the other.) As we decided which things to keep in our future home, we talked about what it was like going to see the Pope, and how we had changed since then. Pope John Paul II was the pope of my childhood.  For us kids of the 80s and 90s, he and Mother Teresa were Catholicism. During his papacy I was baptized, received my first communion, and was confirmed (in the Year of the Holy Spirit for an added bonus). I attended Catholic school for 8 years.  I traveled to see him at World Youth Day, the longest and farthest I had ever been away from my family at that point. John Paul II told my generation that the Church loved us, that Christ needed us for His epic plan, and we leaped to the task. His love, joy, and compassion made me proud to be Catholic.

When JPII died, my own health came crashing down with him. I spent the sede vacante period going through medical tests trying to decipher the chronic illness that eventually forced me to drop out of college for a year. The day Benedict XVI was elected, I ran campus errands until a parish staffer found me collapsed from exhaustion in the campus ministry office. My life would never be the same, and that period of suffering would prove to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. Pope Benedict XVI was the pope of my transition to adulthood. During his papacy I bounced from one temporary stage to another - homebound invalid days, finishing college, a volunteer year, graduate school, long underemployment, and finally a real job. I met my future husband and prepared for marriage.

Through these changes, I often felt restless, rootless, and unsure of God's plan. Attending two public universities gave me lots of opportunities to wrestle with how the Church could relate to the questioning modern world. Luckily the Church's leader turned out to be not an attack dog, but a gentle nerd with an amazing analytical mind and stellar footnotes. His writings are always a revelation of eloquent clarity. Pope Benedict has urged my generation to reconsider our religious heritage, and we realized we were hungry for symbolic meaning, not just youth group catch phrases. If you had told my 17-year-old self that the "new springtime" of the Church would involve a revival of the Pre-Vatican II mass, I would not have believed it. The scandals and trials of recent years sometimes make it painful to be Catholic, but Benedict XVI has reminded us how true joy comes from the deep truths of the faith. As The Betrothed often says about him, "What a boss!"

Now this next pontiff will be the pope of my adult married life. Once again, I'll spend the sede vacante period adjusting to major new realities - I just moved 250 miles away from my hometown to start a job in a New York and am living out of boxes in a bare apartment. I don't know what the coming years will bring for me and the Church, but I know God will be with us.

The changing of popes is a reminder that Jesus is all that matters. No one person is the Church. She already found the man who meets all her many needs - the One who redeemed her. All the other vicars are just taking care of the place for a while until He gets back. Was Jesus like all of these men at once? Was He the perfect combination of Peter's passion, John XXIII's kindness, and Pius V's tenacity? He knows the right person for the right time, including this next conclave. 

So godspeed, dear Papa Benny. Thank you for your generous service, your great humility, your deep wisdom, and for putting the papacy on social media. I'll be reading one of your books on the subway today. Stopping in one of New York's many churches sounds like a good idea too.

Confessions of a Parish-hopper

In the past five years, I've lived in four different states. This has made me a little commitment-phobic about joining a parish. Should I volunteer for things when I'm just going to leave in a few months? What if there is something better across town? It's helpful to know all the local Mass and Confession times, after all. For better or worse, this has made me into a parish-hopper.

 When I lived in Delaware I ached for Catholic camaraderie. There weren't really any young adult groups to speak of. I went to Mass at the cute historic church up the road, and all the senior citizens gave me the side-eye.

Then I moved back to my hometown in the Diocese of Arlington, where there are more YA events going on than you can shake a stick at. For every weekly listserve I received, there was some other parish hosting a book club holy/happy hour. It was great, but overwhelming. Sometimes I felt like this:

The activities at my parish usually didn't fit my schedule, so I found myself exploring other options. There was the Holy Thursday 7 church pilgrimage from my old parish, the young professionals lectures in DC, the packed Theology on Tap that made me feel old, and the random wine and cheese that a friend invited me to. After a while I felt like Goldilocks trying on all these fellowship groups.

Maybe this one...

It wasn't until I started working on Capitol Hill that I found a place that felt just right. I could see the steeple of St. Peter's from my Metro stop. After long days dealing with tourist questions, the lovely, peaceful church was a place to relax and think. The parish activities were perfect too! Holy hour with confession took place every weeknight, and the friendly priests hosted wine-and-cheese receptions in their historic house rectory. (19th century furniture remains the way to my heart.) The bulletin featured a perfect blend of devout spirituality and social justice service opportunities.

Traveling Mass kits are always so nifty.

 I hopped onto the Monday evening Bible study and Saturday morning food pantry deliveries. By far my favorite outing was a hike in Great Falls Park. On the feast of my patron St. Elizabeth of Hungary, we checked out waterfalls, clambered over rocks, and attended Mass said on a picnic table. Best of all, the young adults group welcomed me without any awkwardness. Even though I technically lived an hour away, no one pointed at me and yelled:

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Just when I was settling in at St. Peter's and learning about all the Latin Mass options in Alexandria, I got a job in New York. See! I knew I was too transient to get on anyone's lector schedule!

So here I am at square one again, without a church home. The Betrothed has a wonderful parish in central Jersey, also named St. Peter's, but it's just too far from my job to be our permanent place. For now I'll hang out there while I shop around. Hey look! There are two parishes within walking distance of my office in Brooklyn, not to mention the historic ones in lower Manhattan....

What I Wore Sunday - Lessons and Carols

Sweater: Kohl's

Dress: H and M

Belt and boots: Target

Necklace: Mortar and pestle pendant, a gift from my internship at a colonial apothecary shop

I'm back in New Jersey again, this time for the annual Lessons and Carols concert at The Betrothed's parish. He sings bass in the choir, and I am always impressed by how great they sound. I was very proud listening to him intone the first notes of Alma Redemptoris Mater. While he was in rehearsal, I snapped this picture in the newly renovated Catholic Student Center next door, a former convent. My campus ministry center in undergrad was a basement room called "The Catacombs," so I hope these kids know realize how good they have it.

Lessons and Carols is a lovely Advent tradition that I only discovered in the past few years. It combines hymns with scripture readings (the lessons), focusing on prophetic readings about the Messiah. I love how it gives me time to reflect on how long-awaited Jesus' coming really was. 

I also appreciate that The Betrothed's choir director picks lots of great Advent hymns that pack some theological heft. Celebrating the Incarnation should not reduce Christians to Ricky Bobby, cooing over "sweet little 8 pound 5 ounce baby Jesus in your crib with your Baby Einstein videos" and his pretty mommy.  As our priests were so good at explaining yesterday, Christ's arrival for a suffering world means so much more than that. 

For more outfits, visit Fine Linen and Purple!

7 Quick Takes, Vol. 23

--- 1 ---

We're in another spurt of wedding planning right now. Our save the date cards came in, bridesmaid jewelry has been ordered, and now I'm dithering about invitation designs. History nerd that I am, I gravitate toward stuff that looks more vintage-y. But I don't want something that yells "I am a twee olde-timey hipster." This card from Vistaprint might work if you want to welcome your guests to a carnival/traveling medicine show with special prizes for target shooting. The Betrothed said one "Victorian Vintage" card looked like "The picture Jesse James was adjusting on the wall just before he got shot."

--- 2 ---

I've been our of work for a month and a half, but no unemployment benefits yet. Government paperwork, why you gotta be so hard?

--- 3 ---

On the positive side, I have another interview next week! I finally, finally have a better sense of trust that if it's the right one, God will still make it work out.

--- 4 ---

Once again, though, I have nothing to wear. I used my only suit that isn't huge on me for the last round. Once again, Divine Providence came through. I just found a great Banana Republic suit at Good will for $11. "Do not ask, what shall we eat, or what shall we wear...."

--- 5 ---

You may have seen this fascinating article in The Atlantic about the decline of Mary as a popular baby name. Does this mean that nobody looks to Jesus' mother as a role model or values virginity anymore, as some Catholic bloggers have suggested? Maybe a bit, but I think that's too easy of an answer. From what I've seen, the trend of picking original, unique baby names extends to devout Christians too. In my little Catholic bubble I've seen Maria, Regina, Mairi, Mary Elizabeth, Mary Catherine, and Mary Beth. I swear half the girls in my high school had the middle name Marie.

--- 6 ---

I got to catch up with some former classmates this week, which was fantastic. A true friend is someone who will not only not get mad when you are an hour late because of traffic, she will also have gluten-free brownies waiting for you.

--- 7 ---

God bless all those students suffering through finals! My three younger siblings are all juggling papers and presentations right now. I just got to give Brother #2 advice on a history paper over Skype. Sigh,  I could almost smell the library stacks. Pondering Leonardo da Vinci is way more fun when you aren't the one getting graded. :-)

Did you know Napoleon collected lots of Leonardo's work, including his notebooks? 

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Mary, Mary Everywhere

Happy Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe! The history nerd in me loves that this is a feast day with such strong ties to American history. Mary left behind a textile artifact that clearly references native culture, how cool it that? 

I also consider today my New York City anniversary. Three years ago The Betrothed and I went exploring at the Guggenheim and did some Christmas-y sightseeing. We went to Mass at St. Patrick's and saw some feast day processions getting underway. 

Flowers for Our Lady at St. Patricks, 2009

Last week I went to New York for an interview and had a similarly magical day. Just a few blocks over from St. Patricks is a similarly imposing Episcopal church, St. Bartholmew's. (Next to the Waldorf-Astoria, at 51st and Park Avenue) I had noticed St. Bart's the last time I met my friend Laura near her office there, and so decided to check out the inside. You can too in this virtual tour. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

It was amazing. I kicked myself for forgetting my camera. The whole building was like a Gilded Age who's who - James Renwick and Stamford White designed aspects of it, the Vanderbilts were parishioners. There were Art Deco mosaics and the best angel holy water fonts I have ever seen. As an added bonus, I had walked in upon the Mt. Holyoke women's chorus rehearsing for a concert, so my poking around had a festive soundtrack. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The whole place was lovely and inspiring, but didn't feel the same as a Catholic church. God was there, but He wasn't Eucharistically There. My old vestment thesis intimidation was coming back too. Several times Anglican clerics practically patted me on the head when they learned I was a Papist girl. They basically told me "There, there, I'm sorry you follow a  Church that doesn't get the Arts like we do." 

Then I turned down a side hallway, where a rack of votive candles stood flickering. What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Madonna and Child icon with plenty of pre-dieu kneelers. Episcopalians lighting candles to Mary? Count me in!! On my way to buy a candle, I also found this: 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The south chapel's gorgeous Adoration of the Magi was painted by a female artist, Ethel Parsons Paullin, in 1919. The thirteen medallions around the arch depict scenes from the Nativity. It took my breath away as I thought about how far-reaching Mary's story can be. 

I don't like to think of Mary as some docile, silent person who never raised her voice, if only we could be like her. She was humble, but she was also the woman clothed with the sun and crowned with the stars in Revelation. Her Magnificat is her declaration of her confidence in God's blessings. She is the comforting mother wrapping us in the folds of her mantle, and the warrior striking at the head of the serpent. Christians build shrines of admiration because she is one classy lady, and she walked alongside Christ with dignity and joy. 

Lady Chapel in St. Patrick's Cathedral. Stamford White was here too.
Photo courtesy of Flickriver.com

What I Learned Wednesday

Emmy Cecilia at Journey of a Catholic Nerd Writer has started a new link-up, What I Learned Wednesday. Since I am also a Catholic nerd and love when someone else gives me a post topic, I couldn't say no. Here's what I have discovered this week. 

1) I am an eldest child, and I am a procrastinating perfectionist. This is normal.

Recently I checked out a bunch of books about birth order from the library. (After paying a big fine because I procrastinated about renewing the last batch, naturally.) My favorite title is the enticing, Growing Up Firstborn: The Pressure and Privilege of Being Number One. That's RIGHT Dr. Kevin Leman, we firstborns have it the WORST! 

The picture of firstborn perfectionism sounds like my life. Dwelling on past failures, gauging worth by the number of successes, blowing past accomplishment to focus on what needs to be done next. If you're always worried about doing a good enough job, then you hesitate to get started. This is exactly why I could never start school papers way in advance. I needed to mull over my topic and feel ready to write profound things. 

This has been particularly true for wedding planning. A long engagement of 16 months is doing me no favors. What if I pick out something now and hate it in 6 months? How can I make this celebration a reflection of me and my marriage if I don't even know what I like? You can't rush art. 

But at a certain point, you just have to pick something. I've gotten a little better at this over the years, especially with shopping. Which brings me to:

2) Never pay retail when you don't have to. 

I got an unexpected call this week offering me a job interview in another city. On Friday. Since I last built my professional wardrobe, I have lost 22 pounds. Hooray! Now all those pantsuits don't fit, and neither does my long winter coat. Cue what my family likes to call "Turbo Shopping." 

Burlington Coat Factory had a decent-yet-unorganized selection of wool coats, but I wasn't sure if I could do better elsewhere. I checked out the one day sale at Macy's - to find some of the exact same items from the other store, at twice the price. 

So today I went back to the first store, and picked up this fun, swingy Laundry coat. I paid $60 less than the Macy's sale price, and less than a third of the suggested retail value. Discount outlets can take more time and effort, but once again I learned that it is worth it. 

Cravat and platinum hairdo optional. 

What I Wore Sunday: Vol. 6, Christ the King

This week I am visiting my fiance up in New Jersey, so I have someone to take my picture! We always go out to brunch at a diner with several of his church friends after Mass. At this point the staff know us and just say "How many this week?" Once he and I ate there on a weekday and a waiter asked "Why are you here today?" You gotta love any dining establishment run by a Greek family. You also know you are in New Jersey when a flyer in the lobby advertises a pro-wrestling "Jingle Brawl" ... hosted at a Knights of Columbus Hall. 

Sweater: Kohl's?

"Pearls": Kohl's 

Scarf: Gift from parents

Sweater tights: T.J. Maxx

Wedges: Aerosoles outlet

Skirt: Anne Klein, thifted. (I bought this for $6 new with tags on four years ago. 

Thanks to Weight Watchers I can finally fit in it. Victory!)

I am big fan of this week's feast of Christ the King. Or as it is called now, "Lord Jesus, King of the UNIVERSE." Did everyone else hear He-Man, Masters of the Universe references at Mass today? Just me? I prefer to think of today as the feast of Jesus' awesomeness + the New Year's Eve of the liturgical year + making autumn more important. Why should December get all the attention?

The cornerstone of Christ the King Parish in St. Louis. I used to live next door. 

 For more church outfits, check out the link-up at Fine Linen and Purple!