Zed

Zed. I wish I could tell you that this was deep thought that came to me in a mystical experience about being nothing and having nothing without Jesus...but no, its the name I gave my deceased toe, Zed the Zombie Toe.
I named him in a moment where you are either laughing or crying in the hospital. It was on the first day without dear Zed

being attached to my beautiful foot that I decided to name it Zed because Zed the Zombie toe sounded cute and hilarious. Why was Zed a zombie toe? Well, Zed nearly killed me. Surprisingly, I have a high pain tolerance and also I have neuropathy (which I was unaware of) which means that my toe was so badly damaged that the nerves were not feeling everything anymore. Scary huh? I mean I did feel a good amount of pain and I was shaking uncontrollably a few times that previous week (turns out I had a high fever for a few days and didn't realize- classic millennial who doesn't own a thermometer). The evening before I was admitted to the hospital I thought I was going to pass out multiple times while at Mass with a couple friends (No, I didn't tell them and just gripped the pew to hold me up and pretended I was deep in meditation- stupid I know). Zed was trying to get my attention and I was trying to tough through it. When I finally wised up (nearly passing out at Mass got my attention not to mention Zed turning purple and ballooning up to three times his normal size that night). I decided to go to Urgent Care the next day (after teaching for a full day of course because I'm thinking it is just an infected spider bite or blister like I had before) and the doctor was very alarmed when he saw it and saw my temperature was nearing 104.
Showing a doctor or any medical professional something that is wrong with you and having them react with "not to scare you but..." is not a pleasant experience. There were tears and the doctor called ahead to the ER (you never want to be the one they call ahead for FYI) and I drove over to the hospital with paperwork that said I most likely had sepsis and skin infection (read deadly and I'm terrified).
Next thing I know I'm in a hospital bed hooked up to all the things and having several concerned medical professionals checking vitals, sharing concerned looks and telling me I am definitely staying overnight if not for the next few days. Teacher brain panics and thinks about the lesson plans I will need to leave for a sub tomorrow while still downplaying (probably out of denial at this point) the seriousness of it all. I find out the toe is broken- and I have been literally walking on a broken toe for weeks (possibly months)- they think it is just a fracture. The klutz in me is strong so I am  feeling pretty badass that I was functioning so well with a broken bone in the past few weeks. (Again denial).
They keep me overnight- pumping me with all the antibiotics (did I mention Zed legitimately looked like a zombie at this point?) and told me the foot specialist would see me tomorrow and discuss my options after seeing the x-rays and the MRI. Cool. I'm Thinking oral antibiotics, maybe a cast and going home still. (Denial is strong in this one...)
Then came in the cool, hip, young, very good looking foot doctor  (definitely love having an attractive man look at your grotesque foot as a woman-said no one ever) who takes a seat in my hospital room (it's probably not good if they need to sit down to talk to you). He tells me the bone is destroyed and they need to take off the toe. Amputation. What? He told me they would need to do it the next day for sure because the blood flow to my foot is very good (rare for a diabetic- which I also found out I was that day) and that if the infection continues to be attached to my body I will get seriously sick and could even lose my leg or life. What. the. actual. heck.
There were tears. Lots of fear- and the dawning realization that I wasn't going back to the classroom (this is before Stay at Home Orders happened and virtual teaching was the mainstay for everyone). I would be having two surgeries, losing a toe, go to physical therapy and have to learn to walk again. I also was diagnosed as a diabetic so my whole life was flipped upside down. I was told that if this all had not been caught while I was so young- my life expectancy was maybe going to be 50. Maybe. If Zed didn't kill me by sepsis first.
I felt stupid. I was seriously sick and not far from fighting for my life and I had casually thought I was ok the whole time. I had blamed the exhaustion on working hard, I had blamed the pain on bad shoes...Reality was so different.
There is nothing quite as unnerving as being put under anesthesia. You sign your life away looking at all the risks first (there's a page full) then you let the doctor drug you and tie you down to an operating table. You can't have anything with you. It reminded me of death and judgement. I realized so concretely on being on that operating table that my life is not my own and it can be taken away in a moment. I knew this before intellectually- but now it applied to me personally.
The first surgery is where they cut off dear Zed. I went into that operation with a lot of trepidation and vanity- thinking irrational thoughts like who could love me with only 9 toes? What about my REALLY CUTE flip flops?! How clumsy am I going to be now? Will they get this infection out? Will the complications from diabetes kill me sooner rather then later? But mostly I felt that I was now too broken to be loved. I fell unconscious with all these thoughts swimming around in my head.

I woke up in a completely different room and as soon as I came to I heard the voice of Jesus speak to me this verse from the Song of Songs: You are all beautiful my Beloved and there is no flaw in you, you are beautiful in every way- Song of Songs 4:7

My beautiful feet post Zed. RIP Zed.

My Beloved was with me through every step. He was with me when I was denying how not ok I was to myself and to others. My Beloved saved my life and did not let more of my body become zombified. The truth is that I SHOULD have been septic by this point. More of my foot should have been infected at this point. After the operation the doctor told me that Zed (poor poor Zed) was basically an abscess of infection that had completely destroyed both the toe bones and the muscle. I had no clue how bad things were.
I have been unpacking this whole experience a lot in this quarantine. This forced cloistering and near death experience has taught me that the only thing that matters in this life is Heaven. All the facades of being ok, all the other things I was putting my identity in do not last. The only constant in everything including this global pandemic is God and his loving Heart towards us. Nothing else satisfies or has the ability to bring hope and peace amidst hard trials.
I showed a picture of my feet post Zed to a dear friend from college who is one of the most amazing priests and men I shall ever know and he told me that it is a Christian foot- that it shows how to follow Christ. It is only through the cross that we find peace and the love that brings the joy that our hearts so desperately long for.
The first time I saw my foot post Zed  (a couple days after surgery), one of my dearest friends and a Franciscan friar were in the room with me. It was grotesque- my foot had a drain in it with blood- it looked like someone had taken Frankenstein's foot and put it on my body- I was mortified. However the first words out of this Friar (read spiritual father's mouth) was that it is a BEAUTIFUL foot- for how beautiful are the feet of those who proclaim the Good News.
I might never be a foot model or wear flip flops ever again- but I know this- Beauty comes from love and long suffering. Beauty comes from the cross where we are molded to become more and more like Jesus. The suffering I endured and am still enduring (amputation nerve pain is real yo) is what is purifying my soul and bringing me closer to Heaven.
Dear friends, please know that whatever cross you bear right now is beautiful. Even if you are physically altered, maimed, emotionally scarred and wounded- you are beautiful and so dearly loved. The Lord is present to us in the unknowing.
My last thought of the name Zed is that truly we are nothing and cannot amount to anything on our own. We are called to so much but we can only achieve this (the eternal Zion) if we allow God to come close to us and carry us. The way He comes close and intimately into our hearts and our lives is suffering- it is through this suffering and the stripping away of all the "extra stuff" and filters we use to disguise our pain and mediocre ways that we can see that the Stone has been rolled away and that we are being resurrected and glorified. This is what makes us an Easter people who can let hallelujah truly be the cry of our hearts! My brothers and sisters- do not be afraid. Christ goes before us and remains with us always. If he calls you to suffer and perhaps to die- do not fear- He has won the victory already and we are to participate with Him in the eternal Resurrection Party. Embrace your Zeds and allow him to remove them so you can be fully healed and fully His.
Happy Easter.
Ite ad Joseph. Totus Tuus Mariae. AMDG.

He makes all things new

Hey friends!
Thank you for clicking on this lowly blog! For a while now Jesus has been tugging on my heart to write about what He has been doing in my heart. I procrastinated. I fled the promptings. I said no often. I told him I did not have anything worth saying and that even if I did, I did not have the time. Well, let's just say this "cloister time" of a quarantine has convicted me of how full of BS I have been and how in my false humility I failed to give glory to God and make him known. So here we are dear reader, welcome to Zed to Zion. I will explain the title in a future post but for now I will just say that over the past few months the Lord has convicted me of my nothingness (zed) and how he calls me to the eternal Zion.
"Behold I make all things new"- this verse has been a powerhouse in my life and in my heart for a long time. When I first saw the movie the Passion of the Christ, and Jesus says this to his mother- I wept. hard. Jesus makes things new. We need to be made new. I, Mary Molloy, NEED to be made new.  

Yea, yea, yea...classic youth minister/theology teacher jargon. I have prayed Lord make me new- but never truly meant it. Until this Lent. I started this Lent going to daily Mass (something I used to do but dropped) and saying the Rosary daily (again something I used to do as a fervent Franciscan student but dropped when it became hard). The Lord was a moving in my heart through this "Lenten sacrifice" and I was overjoyed. Sure, he was making me aware of some wounds of distrust in my heart and it hurt but I was running to Him wasn't I? Look at me- such a good little Catholic. Going to Jesus every day, teaching theology etc...
God decided though that truly I needed to be broken down some more (honestly I needed the façade to be torn down majorly). One bright Tuesday afternoon before Mass and after work I decided I would go to get an inflamed blister checked out- thinking  it would be an in and out mission with plenty of time to get my prescription and head to Mass and the following young adult event.
I did not make it to Mass that day. I ended up being hospitalized and having the blistered toe amputated- I was days (maybe even hours) away from sepsis and fighting for my life. I had NO IDEA. My life was interrupted and fear and anxiety and distrust clouded my heart. I no longer could run to the Sacraments- I could no longer be self reliant.
The Lord is making me new. The first stage to this making new process is taking away the self reliance and the façade of "I'm fine". I am not fine. I am not self sufficient. I am weak, I am tired and I can not do this on my own. That is ok. Why? Because Jesus meets me in that place and carries me. He died a gruesome death to prove to me that He is present, always. I cannot pay the price that sin laid on my head- so he did. I cannot become new or great without him.
I hate hospitals. I hate needles. I hate surgeries. I hate not being able to go to Mass. Jesus came to me in the hospital- when I could no longer run to Him- He came to me. He never had left me, but He reminded me that I am not the one who first chose Him- He chose me and he wants to make a new masterpiece of me. That required (for me) surgery, trust, lots of needles and being cloistered. He has broken my notions of how I should be being made new and shown me His Heart.
My hope for this blog is that together we can unpack what and how the Lord is making me and you new. These are not easy times. I have wept more then I care to admit. I have struggled trusting that God's heart is good, and I have lamented that sandal season is a no go for me anymore. I also have made closer friends with Saints, I have felt the heartbeat of the Father, and I have had a taste of the longing that God has for our hearts.
I hope that the Lord uses this humble little pencil of a person that I am to communicate His amazing Heart for us. Please stay tuned as I unpack (in grammatically awkward and raw ways probably) what God is doing through this little blog.
Ite ad Joseph. Totus Tuus Mariae.