I Want to Die with Battle Scars

At the age of fourteen, Rosario Rodriguez was innocently unaware that she had become one of many young women to be stalked by a serial rapist and murderer. According to police, the suspect would choose and follow his victim for months near local high schools before he attacked. Rosario was abducted on her way to the bus stop and she was dragged into a wooded area. The attacker attempted to rape Rosario as he firmly pressed his hand against her mouth. Rosario screamed the words of the Hail Mary as he fought to break her and silence her forever. In a 2011 interview with Tony Rossi, host and producer of Christopher Closeup, Rosario recalled, ?His eyes got really big. He looked afraid, jumped up and ran away. My first reaction was to turn around to see what he saw, but I saw nothing ? We have always had guesses [that he saw] Saint Michael or my guardian angel or our Lady because I was screaming the Hail Mary. But I believe he saw something divine.? Rosario was the first and only victim to have escaped the clutches of this man with her life and without physical injury. Rosario was raised in a loving family with a vibrant Catholic faith. For five years following the attack, Rosario sought healing in her personal relationship with the Lord through the Holy Mass and Eucharistic adoration. Her faith and the sacraments of the Church undoubtedly held Rosario back a step from the brink of total collapse. Admittedly, as time passed, the cross of her interior wounds?unforgiveness, crippling depression, anxiety, self-loathing, hatred and rage?became too heavy for Rosario to humanly bear on her own. Jesus accepted the help of Simon of Cyrene to carry His Cross. Understanding that God often fulfills His will in our lives in relationship with others, Rosario accepted both spiritual and psychological guidance from her parish priest and a Catholic therapist. With much intensive work and prayer, these two men of God helped Rosario carry her cross and led her to a place of peace, joy and healing through the virtue of forgiveness. Unknown to all, Rosario?s personal journey to the top of Calvary had not ended. The first attack served only to pave Rosario?s path for another Via Dolorosa?a way of grief and suffering?that she would be forced to walk many years later, with a heavier cross, bringing her closer to death in a second act of unimaginable violence. In 2009, at the age of thirty-one, Rosario became the victim of a gang-related robbery on an otherwise peaceful Los Angeles street. A woman grabbed Rosario?s purse from around her arm and shot her point blank in the chest with a nine-millimeter gun. The bullet tore Rosario?s esophagus and collapsed her lungs. According to the attending physicians, Rosario should have died instantly. Miraculously, not only did she survive, but the bullet missed Rosario?s heart by one centimeter and she was able to pursue the attacker and remember the license of the fleeing vehicle, which led to her capture and conviction. Rosario?s three-year journey of healing and recovery following the robbery and attempted murder came with many heavy and painful crosses. One cross she refused to carry was the cross of unforgiveness toward the woman who shot her. ?I knew I did not ever want to live the way I lived before. I did not want to live shackled. I wanted the freedom of forgiveness. In December at one of the hearings ? I looked at her and told her that I have forgiven her and that I pray she might come to know the incredible love, mercy and forgiveness of our Lord Jesus Christ.? ?Rosario Rodriguez has cheated violent death twice. In her body she still carries a bullet; in her soul, only forgiveness.? ?"Cheating Death and Loving God,? by Tony Rossi Rossi?s statement of Rosario resounds of grace rarely grasped by one who has endured such evil. It is an alltoo- rare gift to the world that someone who has risen from not one but two life-threatening attacks is willing to forgive and re-live the horror in the telling, for the purpose of witnessing the necessity, the beauty and the healing power of faith, forgiveness and the mercy of God. Consider the witness of Immaculee Ilibagiza, whose story of faith and forgiveness, ?Left To Tell,? has been translated into 15 languages. Consider the powerful witness of Saint Pope John Paul II as he visited and forgave his would-be assassin, Turkish terrorist Mehmet Ali Agca. ?When we forgive evil, we do not excuse it, we do not tolerate it, we do not smother it. We look the evil full in the face, call it what it is, let it?s horror shock and stun and enrage us, and only then do we forgive it.? ?Lewis B. Smedes As Christians, we understand that God does not restrict our free will. We understand that God has not caused such wickedness to befall His children. The terror of Auschwitz, Rwanda, Columbine, Virginia Tech, 9/11, Tucson, Aurora and Newtown is incomprehensible, but we know?we must trust?from the heart-piercing agony of Calvary on Good Friday that though God has allowed evil to occur and in His infinite love and mercy, He will always bring a greater good from it. The world is searching for witnesses of the greater good. Humanity is desperately in need of these witnesses and God is raising them up. They are few, but their testimony is strong and universally inspiring. Rosario understands worth in brokenness, joy in suffering and peace in forgiveness. Rosario Rodriguez is poised to be that witness.

He knows every hair on our heads. I remember the first time I ran my fingers through my hair in the shower and a clump of hair fell out. From what I had heard growing up, growing some hair above your lip was pretty normal for a lot of women, but I did not know what to make of the hair growing out of my chin or the unpleasant sideburns that began cropping up on the side of my face. I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) when I was fifteen years old and had not had a normal cycle in more than a year. Turns out, one in ten women are diagnosed with PCOS. My blood work results said my androgen levels were through the roof, and all I could see was myself feeling less and less like a woman. But what I could not see when I was fifteen was that I would be made whole through the "brokenness" of my body. Starting at the age of fifteen, I began to believe the lie that my worth came from my body. As I grew up, that lie manifested itself in different ways?insecurity about my appearance, reliance on make-up to feel decent about myself, and feeling unlovable because of the possibility of being unable to bear children due to my PCOS. I threw myself into relationships with boys, hoping that I could make them like me, that maybe I could earn their love. Instead, I was left more and more empty until, in my emptiness, I was finally forced to face how I truly felt about myself. Even after I met our Holy one, I still struggled to accept this seemingly unacceptable part of myself. Heck, I still struggle today to love myself because of my PCOS. But at some point along the way, between the frustrated tears as yet another clump of hair fell out and the exhaustion of hoping against hope for a normal cycle after seven months of nothing?somewhere in between the fears and the loss and the pain?I found the truth. The truth, which is so hard to accept some days, is that for some reason, because of some providential purpose, this is how our good Lord made me. Not only did He make with broken ovaries and jacked-up cycles, but He delights in me this way. He loves the hell out of this woman, her body, her past, present and future, and, most of all, her heart. That, my dear friends, is what I have been overlooking all of my life; I have been so busy trying to have this perfect body that does not belong to me that I have forgotten to strive for a more Christ-filled heart. I have been so overcome by my past mistakes and the ways I have found my identity in nothing more than my body that I have completely brushed past the unalienable goodness of my own heart. I have been so busy saying ?I'm sorry? for all my imperfections that I have lost the ability to say "Thank you" for all my blessings. Not long ago, a dear friend of mine prayed over me as I cried in anger, feeling as if I was drowning in my own waves. I will never forget what she told me: ?Know that there is nothing wrong with you. Even your PCOS belongs to the Lord, and it's time that you reclaim it for Him.? Too often we let the evil one use our "imperfections" to beat us down and we blame it on ourselves. For you it may be a physical condition, a vice or a fear, but whatever it is, no matter how overwhelming it may seem, our Jesus has already overcome. Whatever oceans you are sinking in, reclaim them for the one that ?even the wind and seas obey? (Matthew 8:27). He ?knows every hair on your head? (Luke 12:7), even the ones you have lost and even the ones that grow in places they are not supposed to. There is nothing wrong with you. He made you good and it is well, even if you do not believe that yet.

I really did not want another cesarean (?C?)-section. I asked everyone I knew (and even those I did not know) to pray, that I would be able to avoid the procedure that had lengthened my recovery period so dramatically after having my twins (only 15 months ago). I enlisted all my favorite saints and assured new saint recruits that they would be listed among my favorites in gratitude for their intercession. Saint Therese sent me a rose to let me know she had my back and my little ones added their powerful intercessory prayer to every family rosary. But in the end, God said no. Every factor that needed to fall into place to allow for an attempted vaginal birth after C-section (VBAC) fell through. I had been given little glimpses of hope, contractions starting the morning I needed them to but stopping instead of intensifying. Every spark of hope became a source of torture, like someone holding an iced cappuccino (my severe prego craving) in front of my face and whisking it away just as I reached out for it. I stared at the rose from Saint Therese and almost wished I could send it back. I was hurt and felt so abandoned by a Heavenly Father who had so often given me more than I deserved. How could He say no to something that would clearly be better for my family and me? Why would He want to increase my suffering? I knew He loved me, so it pained me knowing that the Lord of my heart, the One who could easily move mountains and make paths in the desert, was choosing not to move this baby out in a way that would be less traumatic for my body and would end up laying a heavier burden on my family. "I can't believe He's not answering my prayer," I told my husband. My husband's response was, "He always answers our prayers." My eyes were burning with tears at that point. "But His answer is no, so it doesn't really feel like an 'answered prayer.'" Then God brought me to the garden of Gethsemane, at least mentally. Every time I prayed my mind was filled with the image of Christ begging His Father to save Him from the suffering that lay ahead?praying and weeping with such intensity that His sweat and tears became drops of blood. "Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but Yours be done" (Luke 22:42). And so I wanted to joyfully pick up my cross and follow Him, but I could not?because I am weak, because I hate pain, because I liked my plan for how things should go MUCH more than the plan God had for me. I was comforted to see that even Christ could cry out with the voice of humanity and be struggling with the sacrifice He was being called to make, but I realized fully being His follower would mean that I also would have to say, "Thy will be done," and find a way to offer the trial at hand for the good of others. Do not laugh at me, but first I needed to grieve. I had to grieve the loss of MY will. As pathetic as it may seem, I went through the five stages of grief within two days. I experienced denial, fantasizing about secretly giving birth at home or devising some sort of plan to avoid the inevitable. I hit up the anger stage. I was so mad and frustrated that I took it out on ... well, puzzle pieces. Usually, when I would find the kids' stray puzzle pieces I would locate the proper box and put them away but not this time! I took those babies and whipped them into the recycling bin, "HA! Say bye, bye!" (I know pretty lame, but we do have too many incomplete puzzles). I bargained with God (along with all my enlisted saints) and assured Him I would write a very flattering blog about how He always comes through in the end, if He would just make a way for me. Next, I just gave up and entered the depression stage where I cried hard, distanced myself from everyone and generally felt sorry for myself. Finally, I reached the coveted stage of acceptance and here is where I began to ask those around me if there was something that was weighing on their hearts for which I could offer my disappointment and impending recovery period. I offered my pain in hearing no from God and asked if He would in turn say yes to the other women I knew who were hoping for a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC), as well as all those women who were praying for safe and healthy deliveries. Because in the end, God's ?no? to one thing is often a huge ?yes? to something else. A friend of mine who prayed for years that God would fill her womb with a child was met with a firm ?no?, but elsewhere another woman was bringing several children into the world (in spite of not being able to care for them) and those children are now in my friend's arms. Had God said ?yes? to her, in her desire to mother her own biological children, she would never have considered adopting the little ones God had intended for her. I do not fully understand why God said ?no? to me. I know there is a ?yes? somewhere. Perhaps I would have ruptured if I had attempted the VBAC, which could have caused serious harm to our newest little member, Callista Therese (I obviously got over my disappointment regarding the rose), or me. I may never know the reason, but I do think that in surrendering my will, perhaps I was able to offer more than I otherwise could have. Thanks be to God, Callista arrived safely in May twentieth. Being the month of Mary, I am grateful to have been able to follow the example of Our Lady in her submission to God's will, that I could come to echo her fiat: "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done unto me according to Thy word" (Luke 1:38).

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your home, your children like young olive plants around your table (Psalm 128:3). Ben and I chose this as the Responsorial Psalm for our Nuptial Mass nearly ten years ago. We imagined a fruitful life in every way, especially when it came to our dream of having a large family. Neither of us grew up in a particularly large family. I only have one younger sibling, a brother, and Ben has two younger siblings. Both of our mothers are only children. As we planned our wedding day, we discussed how lots of babies would fulfill our hopes of growing our home and expanding the family tree. Ben said, ?At least four kids? when asked by Father Joe during our FOCUS questionnaire. I was resigned to the number God had planned for us, certain that it could not be fewer than what Ben envisioned. But, as every faithful Catholic knows, God?s plans are often not what we expect. Yes, they are always greater than our hopes and dreams, but they are difficult to comprehend, let alone believe, when we are in the midst of such silent pain as infertility. When people see photos of our family, they do not realize that the two beautiful girls God has given us were not easily brought into being. After many bouts of appointments with our Creighton Fertility Care Practitioner and NaPRO doctor, I had to undergo several exams?pelvic ultrasounds, blood tests, new medications, more tests, wait several months, more tests and more self-administered shots. The roller coaster of infertility was excruciating. All people see are our smiles. They do not realize the many months I spent alone, sobbing, not knowing why it was so difficult for us to have children. The longing for more only lingers in my heart as we wait?again?to see what God has planned for us. It is a struggle to share one?s journey of infertility, especially when one already has children, because the world does not understand that pain. The message we hear is, ?You already have two children. Isn?t that enough?? Infertility is a type of grief over the child who never was. Ben and I mourned, at different times, over a phantom child?a yearning, a vision?rather than losing a child to miscarriage, stillbirth or other reasons (all of which are equally painful to infertility). When a couple chooses to follow God?s plan for building a family, it is always a way of abdicating self-will in favor of God?s will. This means always remaining open to children, saying yes when God may say no or not yet. Ben and I have come to see why the Church has such a beautiful vision of fertility and reproduction, because we live it every day. We have never used any kind of contraception and we have never pursued artificial means of achieving a pregnancy. Because we have allowed God to lead?even and especially when we were ready for another baby and had to wait indefinitely?we grew to profoundly respect God?s designs in creating another human life. With both of my pregnancies, I was keenly aware of God?s grand and special purpose for our girls. Though I carried them in my womb, I always knew first and foremost they were God?s children. Because I do not conceive children easily or immediately, I also grew in humility to defer to God?s perfect timing rather than my own. We must realize that, despite the fact that the world either views children as a burden or a commodity, they are neither. They are gifts. Children are not a right of every couple, which is a hard fact to accept. This means that we cannot force conception in ways that separate the unitive and procreative act of conjugal love between husband and wife. Many infertile couples will never speak of their grief because it is so private and tough to articulate. We do not offer this as a point of conversation because we know it is awkward and maybe too revealing. Yet infertility is a persistent, prevailing type of chronic grief that is always lingering somewhere in one?s mind and heart. The ache for a child?or more children?that is never fulfilled may be met with cries and pleas of desperation to God. We tend to ask ?why? rather than merely surrender our fertility to God, always with a willing and open heart, always saying, ?Yes, Lord. I give you everything. I trust you.? Even if we never have biological children, God may be calling some of us to foster care or adoption. If neither of these happen, perhaps God is calling us to be fruitful in other ways?as spiritual mothers and fathers. Those who struggle with infertility may experience it once, twice, three times or more. Some may have one child or more children or perhaps none at all, but the constant, nagging cross of infertility is knowing that one is barren in some way. When we can all accept that we are barren (figuratively or literally) and that this type of poverty is, in fact, a blessing, perhaps we will begin to view infertility differently. It will not alleviate the pain or compensate for the lack of pattering feet in our homes, but it will give us new hope and a different perspective. I consider all of the natural talents and spiritual charisms God has given me?writing, speaking, teaching, encouraging, nurturing and listening?and I realize that these are ways He has called me to be fruitful in the excruciating times of waiting and wondering if another baby will one day grace our home and family. We are all called to be fruitful vines. It is impossible to foresee the reasons why God may not bless our lives with children, but we can look to the ways He asks us to give of ourselves and our bodies in a mystical sense that will bear spiritual fruit in the hearts of those we encounter. Continue to say yes to God, and He will bring about immense good from that gift of trust.