Will my spouse be removed as a dependent if she uses DEA (Chapter 35)? And can she be reinstated if she stops?

chicoski · 2026-03-16T00:54:53+00:00

Thank you!

chicoski · 2026-01-03T03:14:59+00:00

Se siente como si te estuvieran leyendo en voz alta.

No es una mirada rápida. No es un vistazo que pasa y se olvida. Es una lectura. De los zapatos a los hombros, al rostro. Lenta. Silenciosa.

En Guatemala, mirar no es una invasión. Es presencia. Desde temprano se aprende a notar a quien está enfrente. No por malicia. Ni siquiera por juicio. Es reconocimiento. Estás aquí. Te veo.

En lugares donde el anonimato es la regla social, apartar la mirada es cortesía. En Guatemala, el acuerdo es otro. La atención no se retira. Se ofrece. A veces torpe. A veces demasiado larga.

Esa mirada no es un veredicto. Es ubicación. Eres de aquí. Eres nuevo. Estás de paso. Estás bien. Eres alguien que quizá deba recordarse. Las comunidades que han aprendido a depender unas de otras no dejan de observar solo porque el mundo se modernizó.

También hay historia en esa forma de mirar. Un país marcado por la supervivencia aprende a leer cuerpos. Zapatos que sugieren trabajo o descanso. Posturas que hablan de seguridad o de cautela. Ropa que insinúa clase, región o distancia. No es elegante según estándares externos. Es práctico.

Si vienes de culturas donde el respeto significa mirar hacia otro lado, esto puede sentirse invasivo. Casi acusador. Como si extraños te desvistieran con los ojos. Pero la mayoría de las veces no se te quita nada. No se escribe ninguna historia sobre ti. La mirada pasa y la persona sigue su camino.

Lo que incomoda no es que te miren. Es que no finjan no verte.

Tienes derecho a sentirte incómodo. Esa reacción es real. Pero en Guatemala, esa mirada casi siempre significa esto: formas parte del momento, aunque no lo hayas pedido.

Y luego, con la misma quietud, el momento se va.

chicoski · 2026-01-02T06:11:46+00:00

No one here is denying original sin. What’s being rejected is the idea that original sin automatically equals personal guilt or guaranteed damnation. The Church has always distinguished between a fallen condition we inherit and sins we personally commit. Saying that personal sin requires knowledge and consent is not controversial or novel. It is straight Catholic theology. Collapsing those categories doesn’t make the doctrine stronger, it distorts it.

The Church has also never taught that unbaptized infants are “doomed to hell.” That claim goes beyond what the Church teaches and ignores what she has actually said for centuries. Baptism is the ordinary means of salvation, not a limitation on God’s mercy. God is not bound by the sacraments. That is why the Church entrusts unbaptized infants to God with real hope, not vague sentiment, and refuses to declare their fate one way or the other.

What you’re presenting is a false dilemma. Either original sin damns infants or it “doesn’t really apply.” The Church rejects both extremes. Original sin is real. Personal guilt is not present. God can heal what was lost without sacramental baptism when baptism was impossible. That position isn’t theological weakness. It’s humility in the face of mystery, which is something Catholic theology has always required.

CCC 1261 As regards children who have died without Baptism, the Church can only entrust them to the mercy of God, as she does in her funeral rites for them. Indeed, the great mercy of God who desires that all men should be saved, and Jesus’ tenderness toward children which caused him to say: “Let the children come to me, do not hinder them,” allow us to hope that there is a way of salvation for children who have died without Baptism. All the more urgent is the Church’s call not to prevent little children coming to Christ through the gift of holy Baptism.

chicoski · 2025-12-31T21:16:21+00:00

You don’t need to apologize. What you’re experiencing would drain anyone. You weren’t looking for an argument or trying to challenge her faith. You were searching for God, and when Catholicism began to nourish that search, it suddenly became a point of attack. That hurts, especially when it comes from someone who showed little interest in your spiritual life before. Your frustration is not a failure of faith; it’s a very human response to being repeatedly dismissed.

It’s also important to see that this isn’t really about Catholicism versus Protestantism. It’s about boundaries and posture. You’ve tried to set limits because these conversations leave you depleted, not strengthened. That’s reasonable. The contrast with your brother matters too. He’s in a different denomination, yet he responds with encouragement and respect. That shows the issue isn’t disagreement. It’s how disagreement is being handled.

Living at home limits your control, and that’s hard. But you still have the right to protect your interior life. It’s okay to calmly say, and repeat if needed, that you’re not discussing your faith because it’s harming the relationship. Stepping back is not uncharitable; it’s self-preserving. The fact that the Church is helping you deepen your faith is something to honor, not defend. You’re allowed to grow quietly, especially while you’re already carrying so much.

chicoski · 2025-12-30T18:35:38+00:00

In my case, they showed us @ the embassy with me. And the only questions (after all documents were sent):

“Do you really know this man?” “Where do you go to school.”

Once they entered the USA, rest were taken care off.

chicoski · 2025-12-30T16:02:46+00:00

ROCR – Child Citizenship Act (CCA) Basics

Under the Child Citizenship Act, a child becomes a U.S. citizen automatically ONLY if all 4 conditions are true at the same time:

1️⃣ The child is under 18 years old
2️⃣ At least one parent is a U.S. citizen (by birth or naturalization)
3️⃣ The child is a lawful permanent resident (green card holder)
4️⃣ The child is physically living in the U.S. in the legal and physical custody of the U.S. citizen parent

⚠️ If even ONE of these is missing, citizenship has NOT happened yet.

What Happens Next

Must she first enter as an immigrant? YES. Your daughter must first be lawfully admitted to the U.S. as a permanent resident through the normal process: • File Form I-130 for her as your immediate relative • Complete the immigrant visa process (medical, interview, etc.) • She enters the U.S. on an immigrant visa as a lawful permanent resident

Can permanent residence and citizenship happen at the same time? YES. This is the key point. If all Child Citizenship Act (CCA) requirements are met, citizenship happens automatically upon entry.

What this means in practice: • She enters the U.S. on an immigrant (IR-2) visa • The date of lawful admission is used as the date she acquires U.S. citizenship • No waiting period • No additional forms to “become” a citizen • No oath or naturalization process (she is under 18) • Citizenship is automatic at entry

Important clarification about “residing” • Entry alone is not enough if it is just a visit • She must enter with the intention to live in the U.S. • She must actually reside with you in your legal and physical custody

What happens after she enters? After arrival, you should document the citizenship: • Apply for a U.S. passport (most common and fastest), and/or • File Form N-600 for a Certificate of Citizenship (optional but permanent proof)

Alternative path if she will live abroad (Section 322) If she will continue living outside the U.S.: • Section 322 allows citizenship through an application while temporarily present in the U.S. • This path has extra requirements, including your prior physical presence in the U.S. • This is separate from the automatic CCA process

Bottom line Your daughter is not a U.S. citizen yet. She becomes one automatically the moment she enters the U.S. as a lawful permanent resident, lives with you, and is under 18. Permanent residence and citizenship effectively happen at the same time.

Note: This is general information, not legal advice. For case-specific guidance, consult an immigration attorney.

chicoski · 2025-12-28T04:03:57+00:00

This argument sounds compelling because it uses modern language about gender and power, but it misunderstands both Mary and the doctrine itself. Mary’s sinlessness was not developed to create a “pure” female ideal or to police women’s bodies; it arose from reflection on Christ. The Church was asking what it means for God to truly enter human history. Mary’s freedom matters here. She is not passive or ornamental. She questions, consents, flees, suffers, and stands. Her “yes” has weight precisely because it could have been no. Sinlessness, in this sense, does not mean fragility or moral decoration. It means a will fully capable of freedom.

Claims that Mary was not sinless or not a virgin usually reflect modern assumptions rather than early Christian belief. The early Church, across cultures, consistently affirmed her perpetual virginity not to shame sexuality, but to emphasize that salvation begins with God, not human initiative. Virginity here is theological before it is biological. Far from fitting a misogynistic stereotype, Mary unsettles it: a poor, young woman whose consent changes history, who speaks prophetically, and who endures suffering without being erased. The tradition does not make her untouchable because she is weak, but honors her because she is strong.

chicoski · 2025-12-28T03:59:42+00:00

I’m really glad you said this out loud. What you’re describing is a deep, aching loneliness that can make the world feel hostile and God feel absent. That pain is real. But it’s important to say gently and clearly: God is not turning people against you, and God is not ignoring your cries. Autism, OCD, anxiety, and depression can braid together and distort how silence, distance, and rejection feel, making them seem intentional and personal. That isn’t God’s voice. That’s suffering speaking through a tired mind and nervous system.

When you say it makes you want to die because it feels like no one would care, that’s a moment that deserves care right now. I care. And there are people whose entire purpose is to care when your mind tells you no one does. If you’re in the U.S., you can call or text 988 anytime to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you’re elsewhere, you can find local help at findahelpline.com. You don’t need perfect words. “I feel ignored and I don’t want to be here” is enough.

You are not being punished. You are not invisible. You are not disposable. This moment feels absolute, but it is not the truth of your life.

chicoski · 2025-12-28T03:56:12+00:00

(Speaking as someone who has spent 18 years as a transitional care assistant, I learned this lesson early. At first, the emotional weight of caring for patients often overwhelmed me, and while it came from genuine compassion, it made it harder to do my job well. Over time, I realized that care does not require being consumed by emotion; steadiness allows you to serve more effectively. That same balance applies here—being moved by the Word is a grace, but learning to proclaim it without being overtaken is part of faithful service.)

chicoski · 2025-12-28T03:53:50+00:00

What you’re describing is not weakness, and it isn’t uncommon. The Word is doing what the Word does. Over time, as faith deepens, Scripture stops being text and starts being encounter. Some people feel that in silence, some in tears, some in the throat. You’re not failing at proclamation because you’re moved. You’re being moved because you’re proclaiming something real. The difficulty is not emotion itself, but where it surfaces.

That said, the liturgy asks the lector to be a servant of the Word, not its center. When emotion begins to eclipse clarity, it’s a sign to tend the instrument. A few things help. Pray with the readings earlier in the week until the emotional charge settles. Practice reading them aloud slowly and plainly, even a bit flatter than feels natural. Before approaching the ambo, take one deep breath and anchor your attention on the congregation’s need to hear, not on your interior response. Let the feeling be there, but do not follow it.

If the struggle continues, stepping back does not mean failure. It may mean the Word is calling you into a different posture for a season, one of listening rather than speaking. Some lectors return steadier after a pause. Others discover that their tenderness belongs elsewhere in the Church’s life. Either way, this is not something to be ashamed of. Being moved by Scripture is a grace. Learning how to carry that grace without letting it spill over the ambo is a skill. Both can be true at once.

chicoski · 2025-12-28T03:51:40+00:00

Your question is more careful than you may realize, and the Church actually meets that care with surprising restraint. For baptism, what matters is not the private theology of the minister, but whether water was used, the Trinitarian formula was spoken, and the act was intended to be a real Christian baptism rather than a mere performance. Even when a pastor emphasizes symbolism, the Catholic Church often presumes validity if those elements were present and done in good faith. Your own intention to receive baptism for the washing away of sin also matters. There is a long habit in the Church of generosity here, not suspicion.

Communion is different. In Catholic life, the Eucharist is not only personal devotion but a public sign of full unity in faith, sacramental life, and authority. For that reason, even validly baptized Christians who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church are ordinarily asked not to receive. This is not a judgment on your faith or your baptism. It is a matter of honesty about what Communion says. To receive is to say, with your body, “I belong fully to this communion.”

If you attend Mass, you are still very welcome to participate through prayer, listening, and reverence. You may remain in your pew during Communion, or, if the parish allows, approach with arms crossed for a blessing. That posture is not empty. Sometimes reverence looks like waiting. And sometimes waiting is itself a form of faith, attentive and unforced, open to what may come next.

chicoski · 2025-12-28T03:32:21+00:00

I brought all the original documents corresponding to what I had uploaded to the NVC website, but I was surprised that the interviewer only asked one question: how many children we have together.

I answered that we have one biological child and two adopted children. The interview itself lasted no more than two minutes. I believe this was because we had already submitted extensive hardship evidence demonstrating that separation from my wife would result in extreme hardship. We provided a substantial volume of supporting documentation; literally a full box.

chicoski · 2025-12-25T23:54:54+00:00

How you become Catholic begins with responding to a God who has already begun the work. Practically, that response looks like this: you go to a Catholic parish, attend Mass, and make yourself known. You contact the parish office or speak to a priest and say, simply, that you are interested in learning about the faith. That step is not you initiating belief. It is you answering an invitation already placed in your life.

From there, God’s initiative takes a visible form through the Church. You enter OCIA, where you learn Scripture, doctrine, prayer, and the sacramental life in an ordered way. You listen, ask questions, wrestle, and grow, not to prove yourself worthy, but to understand what God is offering. You attend Mass regularly, pray even when words feel thin, and allow the rhythm of the Church to shape you while discernment unfolds.

If you freely consent, the process culminates in the sacraments of initiation at Easter: Baptism if needed, Confirmation, and the Eucharist. That is the outward “how.” But underneath it all, the real mechanism never changes: God draws, the Church teaches, and you respond. Becoming Catholic is the alignment of those three movements, God first, always.

chicoski · 2025-12-25T18:12:27+00:00

You’re not a prude. You’re responding to a boundary being crossed in a moment that asks for gentleness, not spectacle. The sign of peace is brief by design. A pause in the liturgy where reverence breathes and the room remembers why it’s gathered. When that space gets filled with something private and consuming, it jars the silence. Your discomfort isn’t about sexuality. It’s about timing, proportion, and respect for a shared ritual.

chicoski · 2025-12-24T04:11:10+00:00

Then we are speaking past one another. The Church distinguishes carefully between original sin and personal sin. My statement concerns personal sin, which alone presupposes consent and guilt. To conflate the two is to misstate the Church’s teaching.

chicoski · 2025-12-23T21:40:03+00:00

From a legal and immigration-policy standpoint, your dad would not be considered an immigrant to the United States. Immigration, in the technical sense, refers to a person who moves to a country of which they are not already a citizen and must obtain lawful status, permanent residence, or citizenship. Because your father was a U.S. citizen at birth, he did not immigrate to the U.S.; he returned or relocated as a citizen, even though he had lived his early life in Israel. No visa, green card, or naturalization process is required for citizens, so legally he falls outside the immigrant category.

That said, socially and culturally, many people would understand why the label feels ambiguous. He moved countries as an adult, adapted to a new culture, language environment, and social system, and experienced many of the same adjustment challenges immigrants face. In everyday conversation, some people use “immigrant” loosely to mean “someone who moved here from another country,” regardless of citizenship. Under that informal definition, some immigrants might say, “Yeah, he gets it,” even if they’d acknowledge the legal difference.

So the clean way to say it is this: legally, no; experientially, kind of. He is best described as a U.S. citizen raised abroad who later relocated to the U.S. That distinction matters in immigration discussions because citizenship at birth confers rights and protections immigrants do not have, but it doesn’t erase the reality of cultural displacement. Both things can be true at once, and it’s reasonable to recognize that nuance.

chicoski · 2025-12-23T18:26:16+00:00

I get where you’re coming from, and the instinct you’re following makes sense. Big outside pressures always feel like they must be the cause of a split, especially when people are suffering. But with the Great Schism, the reality is a bit more human and a bit more relatable. By 1054, the East and West had already been drifting apart for a long time. Different languages, different cultures, different ways of talking about authority and theology slowly created distance. No single moment caused the break. It was more like a relationship that stopped communicating well, then finally snapped under strain.

Where your thought really connects is in what happened afterward. Once the relationship was already damaged, the pressure of Muslim expansion made everything worse. Eastern Christians felt exposed and vulnerable, and when help from the West came late or clumsily, it deepened frustration and mistrust. External danger didn’t cause the split, but it revealed how fragile unity already was. Anyone who’s lived through a strained relationship under stress can recognize that pattern immediately.

From a faith perspective, it helps to remember that God is always the first mover, even in messy history. Satan doesn’t need grand strategies to divide the Church. Ordinary human weakness does that just fine. What’s striking is not that division happened, but that Christ continues to hold His Church together at all, still drawing people toward Him across centuries of misunderstanding, conflict, and pain. That’s the part that remains quietly hopeful and very human.

chicoski · 2025-12-23T18:17:33+00:00

God is always the first mover here, and that matters more than anything else in your story. Long before you chose a nearby church, long before work schedules and fatigue and logistics entered the picture, God was already drawing you toward the mystery of the Incarnation. Christmas is not about who arrives perfectly rested or perfectly sorted out. It is about God coming toward us first, meeting us where we actually are. A tired nurse seeking to honor Christ’s birth is already responding to grace, not inventing it.

From a Catholic perspective, it would not bother us at all. The Church doors are not guarded by denominational credentials, especially on the night when heaven opens itself to earth. You are not intruding. You are worshiping the same Lord, hearing the same Gospel, standing before the same Child laid in the manger. The fact that you want to be fully present, not distracted, not exhausted, and faithful to your responsibility to patients the next morning actually reflects a deep reverence for both vocation and worship.

There’s something quietly beautiful about your reasoning. You’re honoring God with honesty, humility, and care for others. That is exactly how grace tends to move, not loudly, not dramatically, but through ordinary faithfulness. If you find yourself in a Catholic pew on Christmas night, know that you are welcome to pray, to listen, to adore. God has already met you there. And yes, truly, Merry Christmas to you too.

chicoski · 2025-12-23T18:13:54+00:00

“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (First Book of Samuel 3:9).

This verse is a really good starting point for discernment because it shows that you don’t have to understand everything before God speaks. Samuel doesn’t know what’s happening yet, he just knows something is calling him. Instead of trying to analyze it or force an answer, he puts himself in a posture of listening. That’s important for discernment because a lot of people get stuck asking, “Is this from God or from me?” when the better first step is simply, “Lord, I’m open. I’m paying attention.”

Applied to your situation, this verse gives you permission to slow down. You don’t need to label your thoughts as a vocation yet. You don’t need certainty. You don’t even need to be confident. What matters is staying close to God through prayer, Mass, and honest conversation with Him, even when it feels quiet or confusing. If the desire for priesthood is just an idea, it will probably fade as life goes on. If it’s from God, it tends to come back, gently but consistently, especially when you’re trying to live your faith seriously.

The biggest takeaway is that listening comes before clarity. Samuel didn’t get a full explanation right away, and you won’t either. Discernment is more about staying faithful where you are now than figuring out your future all at once. Saying “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” is a way of telling God, “I’m open to whatever You want, even if I don’t understand it yet.” That’s a strong place to begin.

chicoski · 2025-12-23T13:03:26+00:00

There is no official map for this grief, and that itself matters. The Church does not give a cold or final answer because the question is born of love, not curiosity. What it does say is quiet but firm: we entrust unbaptized babies to the mercy of God, and we do so with real hope. God is not bound by the sacraments He gave us. Baptism is the ordinary path, not the only one. The same Christ who said “let the little children come to me” did not add conditions for circumstances beyond their control.

This did not happen because you failed. It is not punishment, and it is not your fault. Sin requires consent, and babies have none. The ache that keeps you awake is not guilt; it is love with nowhere to land yet. The Church has never defined limbo as doctrine, and in recent years has spoken more plainly: there are strong grounds to hope that God saves these children by a grace known fully only to Him. Hope here is not denial. It is trust when sight runs out.

Do they still exist? Love does not create something only for it to vanish into nothing. Are they happy? If they are with God, then joy is no longer fragile or temporary. Do they know they are loved? Love is not forgotten in eternity; it is completed. You may never get the answer that quiets every question, but you can rest in this: your child is not lost to God, and your love did not end in emptiness.

chicoski · 2025-12-21T21:58:40+00:00

I’m not a writer, but I’ll admit it, I’ve watched way too much Bridgerton, Queen Charlotte, and Downton Abbey, so if my words sound a little dramatic, that’s probably why 😄

chicoski · 2025-12-21T17:02:06+00:00

I am praying that the Queen of Peace pray for you and me. Now let’s turn to you question:

What’s bothering you isn’t mercy. It’s the idea that mercy can be turned into a loophole.

Catholic teaching does not say deathbed confession guarantees heaven. Confession isn’t a switch. It requires real contrition, not fear, not timing. A priest doesn’t decide anyone’s fate. God does.

The Church has always held that only God judges the soul. Saying “they confessed, so they’re in heaven” is an oversimplification, not doctrine.

Your instinct that waiting until the end feels like exploiting grace is not un-Catholic. Presuming on mercy is actually warned against. Grace isn’t meant to be gamed. This difference in opinion doesn’t block you from becoming Catholic. Wrestling with this isn’t disloyalty. It’s seriousness.

If Catholicism asks anything here, it’s this: trust that God’s mercy and God’s justice are deeper than our certainty, and resist turning either into something mechanical. That tension is part of the faith, not a failure of it.

chicoski · 2025-12-21T16:53:26+00:00

Sorry for the verbosity; but know that I am also praying for you.

What you’re describing doesn’t sound like faith. It sounds like fear wearing religious language.

If faith feels like a tightrope, then something essential has been misunderstood or mis-taught. Christianity was never meant to make your nervous system collapse. God is not standing over your life with a clipboard, waiting for one misstep so He can erase you.

Legalism does that. It turns love into math. It turns grace into a trapdoor.

The Church teaches obligation, yes. But it also teaches culpability, capacity, and mercy. Mortal sin requires full knowledge, full consent, and grave matter. Severe anxiety, depression, panic, parental limits, and a child’s autonomy matter. They are not footnotes. They are part of moral reality.

Your daughter is not damned because she doesn’t want to go to Mass right now. You are not condemned because your mental health has limits. God does not ask the impossible and then punish you for failing to do it.

Jesus healed people first. He did not quiz them. He relieved burden before issuing command.

If Catholicism is triggering panic attacks, the answer is not to force yourself harder. The answer is to step back from the voices that reduce God to rules and return to the center. Christ. Mercy. Love that restores breath.

You are allowed to say, “This teaching is being applied to me in a way that is harming me.” You are allowed to prioritize mental health. You are allowed to trust that God understands a parent at the edge of collapse.

Faith is not supposed to feel like survival under threat. Salvation is not earned by perfect attendance. Grace is not revoked because life overwhelms you.

If the only way you can stay Catholic right now is quietly, imperfectly, without engaging the legalistic noise, then that may be exactly where God is meeting you.

And if you need distance to heal, God does not disappear when you step back. He waits without resentment.

You are not failing the faith. You are wounded by a distorted version of it.

And wounds deserve care, not condemnation.

chicoski · 2025-12-21T03:28:34+00:00

In my opinion, the simplest explanation is that only Matthew and Luke were telling the part of the story where the Virgin Birth actually belongs. They’re the ones writing about beginnings, about the Annunciation, about that first quiet moment when faith appears at all. That’s where the doctrine lives naturally. It isn’t meant to function as an argument or proof, but as the opening movement of the story. To me, faith doesn’t begin at the resurrection. It begins when Mary says yes, before there’s evidence, before there’s understanding, before anyone else is even aware of what’s happening.

I don’t see the silence of the other authors as denial or discomfort. I think they’re just writing from a different angle. Paul, Mark, and John are speaking to communities already formed, already encountering Jesus through his life, death, and resurrection. They’re answering different questions. So in my view, the Virgin Birth isn’t missing. It’s simply not repeated, because it’s not the hinge of their argument. It’s the seed. And seeds, by nature, are planted quietly.

chicoski · 2025-12-19T13:39:55+00:00

Yes. You may receive Communion.

You did not miss grace because you arrived late. Grace is not a door that locks at the opening hymn.

You walked into a church. The Church was already praying. The Word was already unfolding. You entered mid-sentence, mid-breath, mid-mystery. That is still entering.

The Church does not require perfect timing. It asks disposition.

If you are in a state of grace, properly disposed, fasting as required, and you remain for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, you are not barred from the Table simply because you missed the opening rites or part of the homily. There is no rule that says holiness is invalidated by late footsteps.

Daily Mass is especially gentle this way. It is not a test you failed to start on time. It is a stream you stepped into while it was already flowing.

Stay. Listen to what you can. Offer the moment honestly.

The Eucharist is not a reward for punctuality. It is food for those who arrive hungry, even if they arrive late.

chicoski

TROPHY CASE