Lessons of the Fall

I have been looking into job leads, sending out my resume while still keeping a fulltime job and all my other activities; thus, my schedule has been a bit constrained- with the job search taking much of my thoughts and time… 

Today, I want to walk away from that topic and discuss something lighter – like the arrival of fall!  If I were a season, autumn would be my name!  Even though in California the seasonal changes are quite subtle, I love this time of year.  I love the crisp smell, the orange-mustard hues, the crunch of the leaves and the lower temperatures.  It’s sweater season. O’, how I love a good cardigan let me count the ways (smile)!  And pumpkins – the sight of the orange spheres bring cuddles of happy to my chest… But what I love most is the grey skies and the barren trees.  If fall had a sound – it would be that of a “full” silence as nature quietly sheds its skin.  Don’t be tricked by its understated change, deep within its roots, life begins to fall asleep awaiting for the indication to rise again.  This sleepiness of fall is what draws me so.  The hushed stupor feels like an incarnation of an introverted spirit: one so calm and one so still.  Unlike spring and summer with its loud colors and sounds, fall’s low vocal cords require a trained ear.  During the fall things begin to look dead, like they will no longer bear fruits, but if you look deeply a trained eye sees the transformation happening - a change, from what was to what will be.  At the beginning of fall, when I walk Dollar I can taste the season, it lingers on my lips and caresses my body with its large, breezy wings.  It motions me to listen, to quiet my soul.  To hear and see what goes unaware. 

Many, many years ago generations assigned gods for the many aspects of creation. The Greek goddess Carpo was in charge of autumn and a bountiful harvest.  Some cultures enamored by nature decided to make mother earth a god.  While I find mythology quite beautiful, there’s not an ounce of reason that supports those claims.  Yet, the God with a capital “G” that I believe in has shown me that reason and faith can stand side by side.  We live in such a perfect world, where the laws of nature follow such an embedded code that they know when to begin preparing for the long winter sleep.  God used science to create this complex universe; but, like the genius that He is, He left us visual poetry that reaches the soul in ways no scientific formula can.  You can understand scientifically the amazing process of the seasons, but when you’re enveloped in that fresh gust of wind and see the long fingers of the branches saluting the heavens – something like the most pure wonder caresses the spirit. 

Fall prepares nature for its upcoming rest and even when things look dead after a proper period of waiting life will soon peak through again and all will be more glorious.  Great things happen during autumn, but they are so muted that one needs to calm the spirit and will it to listen.  November twentieth is my last day at the office, but I am at peace because life continues even when some channels appear to be dying.  Fall doesn’t panic because it knows that spring will follow after the winter.  God wrote a beautiful symphony with the seasons, a song so full of truth that comforts those who dare to stop and listen.  It’s cyclical and full of change like our lives; but there’s beauty and hope in its continuous stages.  The year wouldn’t be complete without fall just like our lives wouldn’t be complete without the moments of shedding and even the moments of rest.  

Through Love, Serve One Another

I came back to the Catholic Church after a long journey as an agnostic and then a protestant Christian.  I also returned with great need.  In 2007, I was learning to live with my new bipolar diagnoses and had just began treatment.  Mentally and emotionally I was in a really dark, insecure place.  Life had little meaning, I was unemployed because I couldn’t keep a job and I had told my mom that if God didn’t help me soon that I was going to take my life.  One day she took me to three parishes to speak with different priests and though all made the time to speak with me I left their offices in the same state of desolation.  At Our Lady of the Pillar Church, I was meeting the third priest of the day.  Even though I didn’t have an appointment he made the time to speak with me.  He quietly listened as I shared my darkness.  When I was done,  he said, “Sometimes people with depression feel so heavy because they only see their hurt.  I want you to go and look for an opportunity to volunteer your time helping someone else.” 

The young adult group that I was attending invited me to visit Saint Francis Senior Home that following Sunday.  Though I felt like I had nothing to contribute, I accepted the invitation.  When I got to the home, I was the only one in the young adult group who spoke English so they asked me to lead the two-hour visit.  Those two hours taught me that even at my most broken state I still had much to contribute.  A simple visit with lonely, abandoned, aging women showed me that suffering wasn’t just inside me it was very present in the world and in my community.  And, I didn’t have to offer a grand gesture to help those hurting – my presence and my listening ear gave those women so much joy.  As I continued to help at the senior home, the sisters who run it told our group how knowing that our group was visiting would motivate their ladies to leave their beds, shower and get ready for their visitors, “On the Sunday's you come, we have no trouble getting the ladies to shower.  They are so happy for visitors that they run out of bed and into the shower.”  

They love to dance!

Soon I became the coordinator of the Sunday visits and one day I decided to have a manicure pampering day.  The sisters again shared their joy because sometimes they don’t have enough time or people to trim the ladies’ nails.  These small gestures made such an impression in the lives of the women of Saint Francis Senior Home, but also taught me that service is the most healing, rewarding, uplifting thing a person with depression can do.  Jesus told us that he came into this world to serve and we must imitate what he taught us.  Service saved my life! In my spiritual journey I have fallen madly in love with God and this passion continues to inspire me to live a life doing good.  I crave to reach heaven and hear God say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”        

I think they've enjoyed having Dollar (in costume) come visit- more than me!

Sister Death Transitus Vigil

October fourth is the day that the church dedicates to the remembrance of one of the most beloved Catholic saints, Saint Francis of Assisi.  Each year selected parishes celebrate the vigil of his death, known as the Transitus, word that comes from the Latin meaning: “passage,” “crossing” or “going over.”  The Transitus Feast has always been an important part of Christian spirituality because ideally we should not be afraid of death.  Saint Francis even referred to “Sister Death” in a positive light, a sort of crossing into eternal life with the Father.  His death was a paradox that carried the sadness of a beloved being lost to this world with a deep joy of his birth into eternal life.  His friends and loved ones gathered around him singing and praising the Lord with many tears on his last day of life.

It’s only my second year in attendance at such a beautiful service and it’s become one of my favorite celebrations of the year.  I lost my faith and for the greatest part of my life I lingered between agnosticism and atheism.  Until the day that my brother died.  When he died I came across a fork on the road a decision concerning my spirituality needed to be made: to believe or not believe in God.  As I have shared my brother was schizophrenic and he endure a lot of mental anguish, pain that I saw so deeply entangled in his being.  When he passed, I could no longer believe that the material world was all we had, but if I was going to believe in heaven it needed to be a heaven that was real.  Not the heaven with angels playing harps and a golden gate like the one featured in most cartoons.  I needed him to exist to cross over into a real heaven with a real God, a place where he would find peace and a meeting spot where one day we would be reunited.  This search for heaven is what led my initial steps towards my Catholic faith.  Every year, during the Transitus Vigil I am reminded of my quest and for an hour - time is suspended and I get to experience Sister Death and hear the bells of heaven as one more saint arrives eternally home.  Death loses its power, it is redeemed in Jesus Christ.  

The friars Chanting Ultima.

  

“Lord, I beg you, let the burning and gentle force of your love pervade my soul and withdraw it from all that is beneath Heaven, that I might die through love of your love, since You did deign to die through love of my love…”

This year I invited my Secular Franciscan Fraternity to the vigil and quite a good group was able to accompany me, though my first Transitus will always be the most special, sharing it with my sisters in Christ was such a sweet treat.  And though there was no birthday cake this year, we did get to enjoy those almond cookies that Saint Francis loved so much and which Lady Jacoba made for him to delight as he departed from this world.  Saint Francis of Assisi pray for us and happy feast day!        

It's a Matter of Waiting

I am writing this bit from my garden, a place I have been spending most of my time lately.  It's just such a wonderful feeling to be outside enjoying the natural beauty, listening to Solecito (my bird) sing and watching my dog sunbathe.  Usually I am involved in reading, working on my purse restoration, praying or just in silence thankful for this space.  When I was a little girl, stuffed like sardines in an apartment, I used to dream about a yard with a white picket fence.  It took my entire childhood and teenage years for this dream to materialize; God didn't forget nor did my prayers go unanswered it was just a matter of waiting.  Waiting.  In this day of such a fast paced world with technology making everything faster, waiting has become a foreign concept.  I've always been fascinated by how God made the birth process a nine month waiting period for the parents.  Pregnant women will even complain as the day gets near about their desire for baby to already be out so that their discomfort will minimize.  Yet, like a bun in the oven it needs to stay inside until it's fully baked (smile).  

As I think of my doubts in prayer, I believe they stem from asking God for prayers that required years to be answered.  I prayed for a home of my own and that took many years to acquire.  Another prayer that left me scarred was asking God (even during my agnostic years) for my father to stop drinking.  These two prayers hurt to voice, and they hurt more in the waiting.  Yet, as I have reflected on these two petitions I realize that they were voiced from a person that I am no longer today.  I lost my faith at a very young age and during moments of desperation I called to a God that I was unsure I believed in.  Today, I know that God is real and I believe in the power of prayer; yet, I feel like God is asking to heal an area that I didn't even know needed healing.  An area that goes back to that girl who prayed in desperation fighting reason and a deep belief that prayer didn't work.

Though it took many, many years, God provided a home and gave me the father I always wanted.  The big lesson is that God answers when He knows best.  My sister had been married for many years and she was unable to conceive.  A year after my brother died our prayers were answered when she found out she was pregnant and that news gave us all a huge reason to go on.  Waiting isn't easy nor popular in this fast paced world, but God uses time for our benefit.
Last Sunday, we heard in the gospel about the workers that were all paid the same wages even though some worked only a couple hours.  I always had a problem with that scripture reading because I felt it was so unfair.  But if you have ever been a laborer waiting for work at a Home Depot parking lot you know that you would rather work a full day shift then to wait uncertain whether you will make any day wages.  Usually waiting is accompanied by worry; yet, God challenges us to present our petitions to the Lord and go about our business knowing He will provide.  A huge lesson, one that I hope little by little with His grace I will learn (smile).

God is Good All the Time

Yesterday, I had my first job interview in over ten years! While the position is not a good fit for me, just the fact that I got it done left me feeling ecstatic.  Now, you might think that I share these quite intimate details because I need affirmation or attention, but my motivation is simply to share my struggle in hopes of encouraging others.  I am bipolar and I don't speak about that often, but for people like me with mental disabilities, looking for employment is even more difficult.  While certain experiences are naturally stress inducing for everyone, for people with bipolar it's a little harder because our brain plays devious tricks on us.  My friend who suffers from autism called me earlier in the week, not too long ago he himself was in a similar situation and he understands the mental anguish that unplanned change to our routine causes. Talking to him helped me so much because he validated my experience as normal (for people like us) and gave me so much encouragement.  He and I have formed this friendship that serves as a support group for one-another.  When he's having an extremely difficult time he will reach out and vice versa.  I think that anyone who suffers from a mental disorder really benefits from having a lifeline, a friend who has first experience with the challenges of our disability.

I have also been reading the life of the saints.  Recently, I gobbled the life of Saint Rita of Cassia in one sitting - I will speak more on that in a later post.  But just filling my mind with holiness and distracting my racing thoughts with the stories of great saints has also been such a comfort.  It's funny because I was looking for a saint to accompany me during October, as I do every year and Saint Rita came to me miraculously in a time that I truly needed her perseverance and determination.  God just loves to work things in such a way that always leaves me smiling BIG.  For those of you not familiar with her life she is the patron saint of the impossible, and if you've read my last  posts you know that I need such an example right now.

On Wednesday, I also went to my monthly women's group and the talk was so affirmative.  The speaker spoke on vocations and sort of dedicated the entire talk to her profession instead of vocations.  Yet, it was what I needed to hear because throughout her career she has seen the hand of God at work guiding and leading her to untraveled paths.  Paths that at first have been terribly scary.  Her motto is the lesson I took from her talk, "I just show up and let God do the rest."  I decided that's going to be my new favorite aphorism (smile).

Finding Comfort in the Sacraments

I found myself in front of the Tabernacle on Saturday night, a day after confession and moments away from receiving the Eucharist.  During confession Father suggested that when I have doubts about my prayers to reflect on moments when God has answered them.  After sharing with my confessor the doubts that invade my overthinking mind in moments of crisis.  I've been honest here about identifying with doubting Thomas because sometimes my doubts can really challenge my faith.  Not my faith in God, but my faith in His interaction with His creation.  It's weird because when I intercede for others I really know that He hears me and that He will provide accordingly- but when I ask for things for myself it's hard to do so thinking He is listening.  So, I shared with Father how even though I pray for God's assistance when I do so for myself my heart feels very untrusting, even cynical. Has God provided in the past?  Has He heard my prayers and answered them? Of course He has, but I am like one of the people in our biblical history that constantly forgets.  If Moses had gone up Mount Sinai in my time, I probably would have been one of the many that forgot about God as soon as Moses was out of sight.  My faith doesn't come easily, but luckily God gave me community.  In community I am reminded and encouraged to hope and never seize in prayer.  After speaking with Father, I thought about the last time I was without a job and I asked God to please give me one before the end of the year and He did!  So, now I know how to defeat the cynicism in my heart when it comes a wandering.

Saturday night, I finally made it to chapel and because the church was having its annual fest I was in that small space alone with Jesus.  I talked to him for awhile told him everything as I would a great confidant.  Then I asked him if there was anything that he wanted to tell me.  I didn't have to wait more than a couple seconds when the words to Psalm 23 came into my mind, "The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want."  I smiled BIG and looked up at him as I constantly do when he leaves me speechless.  We had a moment, the type only the most intimate friends have, when words are unnecessary and just being in each other's presence is enough.  "I looked at Him and He looked at me..."  I had been craving to have a friend who would just be with me, "if I lay here / if I just lay here / will you lie with me and just forget the world..."  There are moments when I fall so low that I crave to just lie stationary above the grass next to a companion who won't ask anything of me, but will reach across and hold my hand as we both stare at the infinite sky.  With the words of Psalm 23 so vividly flying through my mind, I knew that God was there reaching out and He would remain with me as long as I needed to soak all of it in.  Never asking anything of me, just being there like the perfect friend that only He can be.

After volunteering a two-hour shift at the parish fest and helping with the clean-up, I waited for the ten PM Mass.  The Sunday readings blew me away!  I've always been a bit uncomfortable with Matthew's Sunday Gospel reading, but over the years it has grown on me.  Life can be unfair, but God's love and mercy extends beyond comprehension... I have been sensitive these past few days, because my emotions are only following what is natural in dealing with loss.  As a bipolar sufferer I don't like surprises and treasure routine- but am learning to recall on God's past answers and finding hope in that.  This weekend I really found solace in the Sacraments and service and I concluded that if I don't find a job before the two months are up, I will be able to attend daily Mass and that will be fabulous (smile). Time to begin a novena with Saint Francis (ahead of his feast day) please join me.

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning's End

Life is full of loss… The death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the dying of a dream, in my case the loss of a job.  This week, I, along with most of my company was laid off because the company is relocating to Texas.  I got a sixty day notice to abandon ship.  During the mass layoff as I witnessed the different reactions from my team, I saw that the commonality was a sense of devaluation.  People who have dedicated a lifetime to my company felt easily disposed of.  While the CEO kept stating that he was doing what was best for the company, the people that make up the corporation didn’t agree with his assessment.  Which made me think of Pope Francis and the many times he’s asked us to remember that behind each structure there are people.  Upper management is looking at increasing revenue by moving to a state where rents are cheaper and deleting high salaries of employees who have dedicated many years to the company.  To the CEO the company is money and acquiring more of it means success.  Sadly, taking care of the people that invested so much to the company is no longer a concern in the for profit sector.  As Pope Francis has many times said we live in a “throwaway” culture where society quite easily discards people.  My coworker, a new mom of two, kept angrily asking “why?”  I tried to explain to her how it wasn’t personal it was just a monetary strategy taking precedence over the welfare of people.  “It’s the system that is messed up not you,” I told her.

Then I got home and had a glass wine and wondered why I was so at peace, knowing that in sixty days I would be without a job?  I sat in my garden in silence for many hours, prayed a rosary and read the life of Saint Francis of Assisi.  The thing is that I have been here before.  This territory has been well-traveled by me.  I know what it’s like to be without work; the uncertainty, the fears and the monetary constraints- even the emotional lows and insecurity that come like waves to challenge the already bruised ego.  Was my peace due to shock?  A temporary feeling that would leave as soon as the reality of the layoff hit? Or was it God given? 

I woke up the next morning equally calm, but noticed that during this whole process I have found so much comfort in the words of Pope Francis.  I have begun expressing my way of fighting this “throwaway” culture by featuring some of my shopping habits and reusing practices on here.  My focus has been on the material waste that I see in my community and my personal fight against it.  Now, I am experiencing another type of waste that of discarding people as if they were easily replaceable things.  I thought of my coworker’s shock in understanding that the goal of businesses today is  more concerned with making profit then with the needs of its people.  And I realized that I wasn’t angry or shocked because thanks to Pope Francis I have long been aware of the path that society is heading into.  Having a foundation in a faith that tells me that I am worthy not because of the job that I have or lack thereof; but, because I am made in the image and likeness of God gives me peace.  Stripping me of a job-title and occupation doesn’t make me less me.  I have been without a job in a worse state of mind and God got me through it!  This is a time to once again place my trust in Him and to persevere in prayer singing, “Jesus, I trust in you.”  Every end brings an opportunity for a new beginning, and what is life without a bit of adventure?  Nevertheless, please keep me in your prayers so that I will soon find employment.

Coach Seventy-Fifth Anniversary Restoration Bags

Earlier this year, Coach marked its seventy-fifth anniversary.  As a tribute to their history and craftsmanship the handbag brand rereleased a vintage capsule with three of its most iconic styles: the Dinky, the Saddle Bag and the Slim Satchel. What caught my attention is that the brand scavenged flea markets, secondhand stores, and online auction sites to buy back their vintage gems.  After acquiring a good amount of bags from the 70’s and 80’s they were sent to a restoration factory in Montana before going back to New York for unique-one-of-a-kind-modern details.  They added suede stripes, leather patches or fringe to give the vintage bags a modern vibe while still keeping the integrity of the vintage shape. Then the newly restored bags went up for sale exclusively at Barney’s with a special collectors tag next to the coach creed.  These bags are currently up for sale and range from $595 - $1195.  When I read the press release on this I seriously couldn’t help, but smile because I love refurbishing vintage leather purses.  To see a popular brand like Coach take such a creative, thoughtful approach to commemorate their diamond anniversary, made this thrift-store junkie heart of mine do the Cha-Cha.  Of course when I saw the price tag, I realized that I would continue to be happy with my own secondhand finds.  However, I really hope this becomes a trend among leading handbag designers because it’s just such a good example of reusing and a great environmental practice.

I have three Coach vintage purses of my own (none of which are the selected styles above) and this weekend I spent some time refurbishing a crossbody that is a minimalist’s dream.  I found this baby for eight dollars and in dire need of a makeover.  She had a lot of scars from her journey, I think she might date back to the seventies!  After welcoming her into the family I gave her a good inside cleaning using a toothbrush to reach the crevices then continued to the outside with Cadillac Boot and Shoe Care.  After, I let her rest while she dried.  I pondered what the best treatment for her would be and looking at my supplies I figured a full black dye job needed to occur to get rid of the lightening of the leather due to use.  I don’t have the tools that a Coach Restoration Factory does, but with my at home supplies I am excited for my new to me bag.  Bag restoration is one of my hobbies and I do restore quite a few bags, but usually I resale them for a profit.  I just like the whole process of taking something that was ready to be trashed and to restore it for another chance at life.  Finding them happy homes gives me a sense of purpose (smile).        

This bag was in good shape considering how old it is, it just had a lot of scratches to the leather and the corners had lost its blackness.  But with a little tender love and care she looks as good as new!

You can read more about Coach's restoration capsule here: Coach Vintage.

Some Lessons Need to be Taught

What is the first thought that comes into your mind when you wake up every morning?  If you are an avid Liturgy of the Hours type, I am guessing that God and a big “thank you for one more day.”  At least, that’s what I have heard Benedictine monks say.  The practice of praying the Liturgy of the Hours helps discipline and elevate the mind to God throughout the day especially at the beginning and closing.  “It was during my two years at the Valyermo Monastery that I learned to wake up every morning with God as my first thought because I was so used to praying the Liturgy of the Hours,” my new professor stated on Monday night.  This observation rattled me because sometimes I think that holiness is easier for some and not necessarily me.  When I think of holiness I sometimes over mystify it and the term my professor used “learned” indicates that while holiness comes from God – there’s some learning involved in the part of the recipient.  Holiness is a living stream that requires action, a personal "yes" to bear fruits and these fruits enrich the person and his community.

Some lessons need to be taught.  I’ve been reading a biography on Saint Francis of Assisi in which the author shares the life of the happy saint during his initial conversion when his heart and mind were in opposition.  Like the majority of people in his community, Francis was repulsed by lepers but slowly with the help of God he learned to love and care for them.  Leaving behind the wealth that surrounded him, Francis learned to see God in nature and creation; especially, in the most vulnerable.  He didn’t wake up one day reborn into Francis the saint it was a lifelong gradual change.  Sometimes when we study the lives of the saints we look at them after their sanctification, but they were men and women like you and me. That through a series of lifelong changes, of prayer and learning to do the will of God they transformed into the men and women we seek today for intersession. 

Most mornings and afternoons as I drive to and from work I am able to enjoy the sky.  Yesterday, the clouds were beautifully scattered across the blue backdrop and the sun peaked at the center of a group of cotton balls.  No artist could do justice to the splendor of that moment’s sky and I was so happy that while the roads were crowded the sky was all mine to enjoy.  Yet, I haven’t always been the type to delight in a sunrise, or a blooming bloom – I really had to be taught.  Like many in this country I was always rushing and preoccupied with my duties too busy to ever acknowledge the natural beauty around me.  I took it for granted and expected nature to give me day and night; but, who is worthy of a sunrise?  Not only are we unworthy of this wondrous world given to us; but many don’t even appreciate it.  A wise farmer once said that when people stopped working directly with the land they stopped caring for it.  This broken relationship has been the cause of serious abuse against creation…    

Imagine what learning to wake up with a thank you on your lips would do for your life?  “Thank you my sweet, loving Jesus for one more day of life, for one more opportunity to do good…”  Just the thought of waking up with a song of thanksgiving makes my day’s outlook seem worthy of my rising and leaving the comforts of my bed.  The great thing is that if this isn’t your natural morning response, with the help of God it can be (smile).  God pours His holiness, but we are active participants that absorb His grace to glorify Him step by step in our daily encounters.  Sanctification requires a little learning, who would’ve of thunk it?!

New Studies Show that Leggings are Not Pants

A few months ago a woman blogger wrote about her personal decision to stop wearing leggings because she felt immodest in them.  She wanted to help men with custody of the eyes by not wearing a garment she felt was provocative.  This post created a storm from all sides of the spectrum.  People accused her of body shaming, of being a prude- while others praised her decision.  This reminded me of the long debate among fashionistas about whether leggings are pants or not.  Secular fashion magazines have done surveys and the leading majority still agrees that leggings are NOT pants.  Even famous fashion designers have a problem with “when did leggings become pants?”  It seems like no credible fashion source has yet to come forth to support leggings as pants (smile).  In recent years, they have become a great wardrobe staple, but most agree that they cannot be worn alone. 

I love and live in leggings because they are so perfectly comfortable and easy to style.  At a recent birthday party, I was having a conversation with mommy friends and they couldn’t stop raving about LuLaRoe leggings.  LuLaRoe is a consultant brand that claims to produce exquisitely soft clothing and their printed leggings are the most popular item, at twenty-five dollars a pair.  Being a thrifty girl that never pays retail, I decided to wait and keep an eye at my local thrift stores until I found a pair.  Last week, I found four brand new pairs in my size on a day the store was having a half-off sale!  I got all four pairs (the prints are just darling) and paid twelve dollars- at just three dollars a pair!  My favorite are the ones covered with cute heads of Little Miss Piggy.  I was a little apprehensive about the material, while it is very soft it also feels very thin.

Now, because I live in leggings and know that they are an article of clothing that require some fashion sense I have high standards for my body hugging friends.  First, I like them thick enough so that in the light they are not transparent.  I think one of the arguments against leggings being pants is that some are so see-through that they leave little to the imagination.  A big “no-no” in my book.  I’ve had some of my RCIA students wearing them and I could totally see the heart print of their panties.  Which brings me to my second point, I like quality materials because I like them to last more than a couple times in the wash.  I also notice that with higher quality fabrics less of my dog’s hair sticks to them; which is a major plus if you have a pet that sheds.  This weekend I put to the test a pair of my LuLaRoe leggings and I absolutely love them!  They are comfortable, they fall nicely on my curves and the material while lite is not see-through.  I haven’t washed them yet so am not sure how they will do in the laundry.  The prints are so fun and the material lives up to the “buttery-soft” advertisement.  I normally wear my leggings with long tunics, long shirts or layered in some way which is the secret to wearing leggings modestly.  Requiring long tops is what makes this article of clothing a hybrid between pants and tights- they are similar to both, but are their own unique species; not quite pants and not quite tights.  However, definitely modest with a little creativity (smile).    

On the subject of leggings, this video is pretty funny.