Inspired and Intimidated - Part One

Back at the beginning of October, I wrote on a friend's facebook wall a sort of negative post regarding St. Therese of Liseux. Now before you go calling me a hater, let me clarify.  My negativity was not so much about St. Therese as it was about myself.  Her feast day spurred in me a bit of a quarter-life crisis of sorts.  I mean, I am 24 years old.  I have graduated college, and had a love-hate relationship with a stream of one year jobs in the time that has elapsed since May 2009.  In short, I haven't accomplished anything all that exciting.  St. Therese on the other hand... now she was 24 once too.  In fact, she died at age 24.

She died at 24 and became a Doctor of the Church.  Seriously.  A Doctor. Of the Church. One of only three women to receive the honor. And the youngest of all 33 doctors of the Church by a solid decade. And looking at that, well, my life seemed a bit lame by comparison.  Now before you go off an tell me, don't worry it will be fine, or maybe you'll meet her in heaven sometime.  Please don't.  Don't worry, I'm not really depressed or quarter-life crisis over this.

Quarter-life crisis behind me, realizing just how young St. Therese was at her death, caused me to think.  It made me realize yet again just how short life can be.  But it also showed me that all of us, no matter how young, are called to strive toward greatness.  It is a reminder that being young is no excuse not to do big things.  So consider St. Therese the introduction to a series on (young) people who inspire me.

The Post Where I Decide To Take Blogging Seriously.... Again

I've said time and time again, that I want to take blogging "seriously."  And once again I am saying I want to try.  Sometimes it is difficult to explain to non-bloggers, what exactly blogging is, or what I mean by the "blogging community."  But explainable or not, I know that I want to try and become part of the blogging community.  I've written in the past that the lack of Christian community and opportunity for fellowship in my life, sometimes makes faith difficult for me, but there is an awesome Catholic blogging community, and I'd be foolish not to turn to it as a means of finding the fellowship and faith community I'm looking for.

Where Were You?

Where. were. you?

Three words. A simple question, and yet somehow we all know what it means. We all know it points to something important. Where were you?

My step-mom and aunt recall that their parents forgot to feed them dinner the night Kennedy was assassinated.  My mother recalled to me watching the news of MLK on television.  And I remember sitting on the red-floral couch with my mother at my grandparents house on the Cape, watching Princess Di's funeral on the old grainy tv with my mom.  It was our last trip, the last time we were down Cape before Mom died herself.   Where were you?

It is the question we ask ourselves whenever we refer to something terrible.  As soon as the tales of a terrible incident are begun, so do the memories of where we ourselves were in that moment.  And no other tragedy stands out more for people my age, than 9/11.  Where were you?  Where were you on 9/11?  Where were you when 9/11 happened?  It becomes a moment and not a whole day.  

I was in history class.  My little mini-World History class with a half-dozen people that met in the room right next to the front stairwell.   Mr. Conro came over the intercom.  Announced we had been attacked and that our nation was at war.  He declared war before the President did.   We were told we couldn't watch any news until last period.  Saint Michael the Archangel defend us in battle. Instantly and silently my head filled with petitions to St. Michael.  Just that summer I'd learned that if you're in a bad situation pray the prayer of St. Michael. A really bad situation pray it again.   The situation would get better we were told at camp, he promised us.  It would always get better. I went for the full novena.  The prayer repeated in my head nine times.  Things got worse. 

The school was filled with scared people.  They told us  the attacks had happened but wouldn't let us watch the news.  The told us the attacks were in NY but wouldn't let us use phones to contact loved ones there.  They told us the plane left from Logan but wouldn't let the person whose best friend was scheduled for a flight from Boston to the West Coast check on her friend.  They gave us enough information to scare us, but not the time to find the information that would comfort us.   Where were you?

Walking up toward Circle Drive and the Connolly's house, I still had no real idea exactly what was happening.  And there was Mrs. C, sitting on her bed.  Paralyzed in terror. Drawn to the television set like a magnet.  Repulsed but nonetheless unable to turn away.  It was the first real news.  She didn't leave it on for too long after we got home.  Pretty sure it turned off around the time my sister got there, after all she was only ten.  Ten.  That's a young age to see your world change, and yet it is how old she was when the Towers fell.  And the age I was when my mom died.  At ten you're in a world of half-innocence.  A world where you half understand and are half confused.  A world where details stick to you, as you work hard to comprehend them. 

It was a Tuesday.  An UNlisted day.  And that's where my day ended.  A table of high school students at Republican offices.  Not off in some separate conference room.  We were out in the middle of the offices, and people were around us working on copying machines.  The newspaper was preparing for an evening edition.  It was the first time I'd seen that.  I thought evening editions were something of the past.   They seemed foreign without the words "Evening Post" and a Norman Rockwell painting to grace the cover.  But that's where I was.   Where were you?

Building My House Once

"Don't build your house on a sandy land
Don't build it too near the shore
Oh it might be kind of nice 

But you'll have to built it twice.

You'll have to build your house once more."  

I'm sure there are other readers out there, who heard this song as a child.  Whether you heard it in a relative's car like me, at a children's event at your church, or belted it out around the house, I'm guessing if you're anything like me, it's starting to have a new meaning now that it didn't back then.  As a young college-grad in my 20s, I am just starting to "build my house," both literally and symbolically.  Now is the time to make sure our houses are built on solid ground.  To make sure our homes, and our lives, are routed in the Lord.

As mentioned in the previous entry, this is a bit of a challenge for me, but a challenge I am facing head on!  As I've heard, "God comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable."  Well, I've been comfortable and now God is disturbing me! He is telling me to look for more.  Telling me that it is time to take the next big leap.  The uncomfortable one.  The scary one.  He is reminding me of the people who don't live with the same comforts as I enjoy.  He is inviting me into His presence, into His fellowship.

In his autobiography "My Life On The Rock," Jeff Cavins describes the period during which he was leaving the Catholic Church in the following way:

In a funny way, none of my problems with the Catholic Church were doctrinal or theological at this stage.  It was all experiental. 

 

His words could be a summary of my current feelings.  I have no problems with the doctrine or theology of the Church.  In fact quite the opposite.  I agree with the doctrine and theology.  I have loved my opportunities to study and teach theology.  I have found the readings of Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body beautiful and inspired.  I have turned to the Catechism as means of answering questions.  I have allowed Saints to become my confidantes.  I have anxiously put off the Sacrament of Reconciliation, then beamed with joy as I left the Confessional.  But sometimes the experiences are lacking - the lack of fellowship in a Church, the lack of continuity in parishioners, the seeming nonexistence of anyone else below 30 in the pews.  Fellowship is not the reason for Church, it cannot be the Bread with nourishes our life.  But sometimes I want some condiments.  Sometimes I want a human friend with whom I can share my struggles.  Not someone to replace my relationship with Christ, but someone to help strengthen it.  Someone to point me in the right direction.  I want to experience Christ in community.

Journey on a Solitary Path

I've been a bad blogger.  Completely neglecting this blog, and I'm sorry to report similarly neglecting my spiritual journey.  I am aiming to rekindle both in the coming months.  To blog regularly, to turn my blog into real writing instead of useless self-blabber like this.  I am also aiming to rekindle my spiritual life, to find myself ignited.  This is certainly a challenge.  I am conflicted at the moment between the Church whose teaching I believe in, and the Fellowship I crave to sustain my spiritual life.  I know I believe in the tenets of my Faith, I know that I could not abandon the Eucharist for a Church where sacraments are only symbols.  I also know that "faith without works is dead," and that I truly need the fellowship and support of fellow believers to help me put the faith and the works together right now.  I am walking the path alone right now, but I'm hoping to soon find some friends to share the path.

Goal Setting

Any of you who followed my old blog - Little School Near The Prairie - may remember that about a year ago, I set 101 goals that I hoped to meet by May 31, 2011.  That magical date is now a mere three days hence, and I have completed an abysmal 19 of the goals on my list.  Now I know I should be happy to have completed any, but 5% certainly doesn't seem like any type of achievement.

So now comes a new list of goals, Summer 2011 style.  These goals are simple and attainable, and I simply found those things I wanted to achieve instead of creating a magic number and stretching in order to create goals to fill the list.  Seriously run a 5K, WHAT was I thinking?  I've never run more than a mile in life, and the last time I did that was eleventh grade PE.  And I don't have a desire to begin now, really, not even an inkling.

Instead.  Here is the plain and simple 2011 Summer Goals List:
              1.) Be Active
              2.) Spend time with Friends
              3.) Spend time Outdoors
              4.) Be/become crafty and domestic.
              5.) Invest my Spiritual Life.
              6.) Shop Locally.

And of course, I'll be making an effort to blog about all of these.  After all, they're stepping stones on life's journey.

Holy Saturday Lives - or Words from Someone Smarter Than Me

Part of "the journey," is finding people to learn from.  Here are some words from someone smarter than me.  They're a reflection on Holy Saturday, so you might think I'm a little late in posting, but really they're a post on our whole lives.  So I don't think I'm so late after all.

Holy Saturday: Our lives are mostly not Good Friday lives: ones of unbearable pain or unimaginable torture (though some people's lives are). Nor are they Easter Sunday lives: ones unbounded joy and endless delight (though some are). Our daily lives are mainly the experience of Holy Saturday: poised, like the disciples, between fear and hope; balanced between the "already" and the "not yet"; patiently trusting. But in our Holy Saturday lives we know something that the disciples didn't: that resurrections are often just around the corner. - Fr. James Martin, SJ

I think that Fr. Martin makes a great point here - for the most part our lives are caught in the between.  We get to experience both pain and delight, both joy and sorrow.  We live in a world marked by sin, but also marked by mercy and salvation.  We have a chance for Earth, and a chance for Heaven.  The best of both worlds if you will. 

What are your thoughts on Fr. Martin's words? In what ways are our lives balanced?  In what ways are they thrown completely off-kilter? Is your life defined by "patiently trusting," or are you like me, and trust is easier said than done?