He promised….
to turn hearts of stone into hearts of flesh…
to redeem that which was lost…
to seek after the wandering…
to give new life to the weary…
to bind and heal all wounds… Continue reading “Promises”
He promised….
to turn hearts of stone into hearts of flesh…
to redeem that which was lost…
to seek after the wandering…
to give new life to the weary…
to bind and heal all wounds… Continue reading “Promises”
Every Thursday morning I spend about 45-50 minutes with a handful of high school girls. And it impacts my heart. This isn’t because profound things are said (although sometimes they are) or because I’m such a great discussion facilitator (that is a skill I do not have), but simply because we are in community.
Our human need for community is evident. I am an introvert and I find myself baffled at times that I need other people. Often, I want to be away from people or at home with a few select individuals. Crowds and chaos aren’t my thing. Yet my soul needs community.
I discover it when I am with my housemates. When I first moved in, we bonded over “Parks and Rec” episodes. I had never seen the show but their conversations were peppered with jokes lifted from the comedy. So I started to watch the show and loved it. Yet I don’t think I would have enjoyed it quite so much if I was just sitting in the basement binge-watching the series by myself. Instead, it was a couple episodes watched over supper with one of the housemates or a weekend evening relaxing together. Eventually, we would stop the show and naturally enter into conversation. Recently, we had that experience again. This time it was with “Stranger Things” (a bit different from “Parks and Rec”) and I loved how we would analyze, discuss, and predict where the show might lead or what different aspects meant. Continue reading “Communal”
I decided today that I would change the light bulb in my bedroom that had burned out a couple months ago. As I spun the glass dome off the fixture, I was surprised to find that two light bulbs were out. My room was being lit by one 40 watt light bulb.
In the matter of a few moments, I had replaced the two burnt out bulbs with two 60 watt bulbs. And what a difference it made! I left my room to throw the light bulbs away and when I re-entered my room, I was amazed by how bright it was.
I had been living in a half-dark room for months.
I had been living in the half-dark for months.
And because I am me, it couldn’t just be about a light bulb or a bedroom. Instead, I immediately began to wonder how this applied to my life. What areas of my life are half-dark? How many things do not have the proper light shed on them because I am too lazy or unwilling to attempt it?
I gave him a detention for typing something inappropriate into his graphing calculator. Understandably, that made him upset. As class progressed, I had them work in partners and he was not interested in doing anything I asked.
It is your fault you got in trouble, I thought to myself, as I watched him sulk.
Each of the partners was responsible for give part of the response to the rest of the class. His partner went first and then I asked for him to give the rest of the answer. It was brief and visibly filled with bitterness. It was enough to qualify as disrespectful and I narrowed my eyes slightly as I deliberated about what to do. Continue reading “He is Human”
The sighs and groans were heard throughout the room. It was a Thursday and so, like most Thursdays, we had a journal entry. It was clear to me that this was not their favorite thing to do. Then again, they are high schoolers, and so finding activities that they actually, visibly enjoy is a difficult task.
“I hear you,” I say as they begrudgingly pull out their notebooks.
“Five to six sentences?! Really? That is like a whole paragraph.”
“And you are seniors in high school. You should be able to write an entire paragraph.”
“I don’t want to do this. What if I just write two sentences?” one student asks.
“OK.” I decide not to fight them on this one.
“You mean, I can just write two?”
“You won’t receive full points. You can write two sentences or even no sentences. I’m not going to spend my time trying to get you do your work. It is your choice.”
In my profession of teaching, I have come to realize that I am very pro-choice.
My life as a high school teacher often involves reminding my students how many choices they actually have. They view their lives as having very few choices, always being told what to do and where to be. But, really, they have many, many choices. It is simply that some of them seem less open-ended. Many of their choices involve consequences that they really don’t want to face and so they think that means they don’t have a choice.
But the reality is that I can’t make them do anything. I can strongly persuade them or make consequences they don’t want to face, but I cannot force them to do anything.
When I talk to my students about free will, I will applaud them for using their free will in a positive way at different points. I thank them for choosing to be in class and sit in their seats. After I say this, they suddenly look like they never realized another option existed. Of course another option exists, I tell them.
“If you all got up right now and tried to leave the classroom, I couldn’t physically stop you all.” They shift in their seats as though preparing to launch from them.
“We won’t get in trouble if we leave?”
“Of course you will. But you have a choice. And I am thankful that you are choosing to stay in the classroom and be in your seats.”
They always look a bit deflated at that point. As though I offered them freedom and then took it away. Yet, in all reality, they are still just as free. They are choosing to stay in their seats. This is largely a result of the unhappy consequences that would face them should they choose otherwise, but that doesn’t make it not a decision anymore.
The same is true with me. Too often I view the things I do as not in the realm of my choice. I don’t often sit down with a stack of papers and think, “I choose to grade these papers.” During school, I find myself wanting to take a nap, but I choose to not take one. On one hand, that is because I need to be teaching and the consequences of not doing my job doesn’t seem worth the little snooze. Nevertheless, it is still a choice.
A couple weeks ago, I was having a conversation with someone about the morality of a specific action. Once again I was struck by the width and breadth of the Church’s teaching. People often view the Church as overly strict and filled with unnecessary rules. Yet I see a Church that is abundant in choices. So much is left up to each person to discern, with God’s grace. How many children should I have? Where should I live? What job should I have? What type of prayers should I pray? Where should I go on vacation? Which charity should I donate to? The Church provides guidance and structure (as Christ promised the Church would), but there are so many aspects that are left up to personal choice.
And God is a huge proponent of choice. He dearly wants us to choose to be with Him. But He does not force it. In the end, our choice determines where we spend eternity. Our choice is made up of the little details and decisions in our daily lives, not simply in our voicing that we would like to be with God forever. At times, choosing God may seem inconvenient or not what we would want to do in that moment. It may be particularly difficult to choose to follow Him. Yet despite all of these difficulties, it is still our choice.
This freedom of choice is why I have a classroom rule that if I catch someone copying another person’s paper with that person’s knowledge, both people get zeros. It isn’t a popular rule, but I want them to acknowledge that the choice to cheat happens on both ends. When it happened for the first time this semester a couple days ago, I had to remain firm in my decision. Yes, it is unfortunate for the person who did all of their own work, but they still made the decision to allow someone else to copy their work.
Life is filled with many choices. Some are between two morally neutral things: decaf or regular? fries or onion rings? carpet or hardwood flooring? Others are between a good and a bad action: punching or not punching the co-worker? stealing that top from the store or not stealing it? embezzling the money or not? And some choices seem like we loose no matter what: lie about the situation or accept responsibility and get in trouble? cheat on the homework assignment or get a late grade for not having it done? The beauty, however, is that God gives us the freedom to make our own decision. Naturally, they will have consequences, as all decisions do, but it is our choice to make them.
Every generation of Americans needs to know that freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought. (St. John Paul II, Apostolic Journey to the USA Homily 10/08/1995)
“My hair is really getting gray,” she says to me as she combs her fingers through a couple inches of waves. “Do I look old?”
“You look your age,” I say. And, because I know that doesn’t seem comforting enough, “You have a young face, but I like that you look your age. We have enough people trying to act like they are younger than they are. Culturally, we need more witnesses of how to get older.”
My mom is not one of those moms that causes people to ask us, “Are you girls sisters?” She has not insisted on celebrating her “39th” birthday for years ad infinitum. As a woman in her early 60s, her short hair is graying more and more with every year. While I never really knew my mom as a young woman, I know from pictures that over the years she has changed shapes, sizes, and styles. Continue reading “Aging Gracefully”
Most of what I have learned about the Lord’s mercy, I learned on Highland Avenue in Pittsburgh.
My younger sister and I were talking the other day about college. We agreed that perhaps even more impactful than the beautiful truths we learned in the classroom were the heart-wrenching experiences we had in ministry. Those were the moments that changed our hearts. Those were the moments when the truths of Christianity became living, breathing testimonies.
The first place I truly experienced a situation where I could love those who persecuted me was on Highland Avenue. Yet it was also the place where God reminded me that He never abandons anybody. There my heart was broken and there my heart was healed. Continue reading “On Highland”
As school draws near and I find myself mentally preparing for a new year, I feel a growing excitement. It is mixed, however, with the knowledge that once this roller-coaster starts, it will not truly end until May. So I am saying a sad goodbye to sleeping in, staying up late, and not repeating myself fifteen times.
A few days ago, as melancholics are apt to do, I was reflecting on death. Particularly on my death. And how I don’t know when it will happen. It could be seventy years or this week. I have hopes and dreams about getting married and having a family, but those may never be fulfilled. Perhaps, I mused, perhaps I haven’t met the man I will marry because there isn’t one. Perhaps I don’t get married. Perhaps there is not much life left for me. Continue reading “The Vocation of the Present”
Thoughts for this day:
The God who created this vast universe with numerous solar systems and millions of planets and stars, also created the intricate design found within each cell in our body.
Sometimes a pan of sliced almonds set on broil (and forgotten about for eight or so minutes) will start a fire. And it will cause you to call your dad into the room who will blow out the fire and dump out the ruined almonds. It will also be a good dose of humility and remind your mom that things don’t matter–because you ruined her lovely new baking sheet. Continue reading “Monday Thoughts”
The way the crisp blue sky meets fields of golden wheat. A gentle breeze after a day of heavy humidity. Long gravel roads ensconced in tall prairie grass. The finishing touches on a three-course meal. A lazy game of bean bags while waiting for pizza to be delivered. The grace of hugging a sibling after a couple years of no physical contact. Aromatic coffee beans, freshly ground and nestled in the coffee maker. Surprise free iced coffee on a warm afternoon. Casual sushi at my house. Kisses from my adorable nephew. Cheering on my nephew as he conquers bicycle sans training wheels.
Glimpses of beauty from a week in July.