Category: teaching

Open House, New School Year

There are a lot of things most people don’t know about teachers.  Most people don’t understand that non-essential classroom decorations (posters, quotes, extra materials) are not paid for by the school.  At times they don’t realize that teaching isn’t a 8-4 job, even if those are the hours for school.  They see the long summers, the Christmas breaks, the consistent weekends off and they believe that teachers have it made.  My dad used to say that teachers complain about their pay but they only work for nine months out of the year.  After seeing me endure my first year of teaching, I think he re-evaluated and commented that teachers work pretty hard.  Every job has its difficulties but people think they know everything that teachers must do because they have all experienced classroom teachers.  The other side of the desk is a bit harder, I’ve learned.

The school year is just beginning and I feel tired already.  Tonight was open house–where the parents go through a mock day and are in each class for 5 minutes.  I’ve never been a big fan of it and always get nervous to speak to the parents.  Tonight I was the least nervous I have ever been but there were still moments of anxiety.

The best part was when I would thank the parents for being the primary educators of their children in regards to the faith.  My intention was to challenge them, encourage them, and applaud them for their efforts.  It was wonderful to see the parents hear what their children probably never say to them.  They see the battles to get their children to Mass and I catch a glimpse of the greatness of that action.  One of the parents thanked me for what I do for the students.  Despite my dislike for the open house in general, that makes it worth it.  I love that I was able to encourage, however briefly, the parents in their vocation as parent.  The rewards may not seem obvious but they will be eternal.

Since my older sister came home for home visit, I am realizing that I love the idea of the lay vocation.  It is the leaven in the world.  The sanctification of the world will only be possible, I believe, with the sanctification of the laity.

To Know God and Speak of Him

Before I started teaching I remember speaking to a priest about my lack of knowledge and experience.  I was worried I wouldn’t be able to answer all of their questions and would find teaching to be too much for me.

“Do you trust that the Church has the answers, though?  That your students couldn’t come up with a question that would prove the Church wrong or that she hadn’t thought of?”
“Absolutely.”

Father seemed to look at me as if that was enough.  So I would be delving into teaching a subject that I didn’t know everything about but I believed that the Church could answer every objection.  In other words, what was the worry?

That realization, that nothing my students or anyone could do or say would change my trust in the Church, was a necessary one.  Even if I don’t know the answer now, I believe there is an answer.

I have a few students who are over the Church.  They don’t want anything to do with religion and their perception is that mandatory theology classes are killing them.  I graded a journal the other day and some of the things the student wrote made my heart ache.  He was writing words that spoke strongly of his dislike for the Church, his disbelief that Christ was there or listening, and his dislike at even having to keep a prayer journal.  What may have surprised him was how I read his words.  When he talked about Christ not listening, I pictured a hurt little boy too closed off to even accept the comfort Christ was offering.  As he described his desire to do whatever he wanted and not follow the Church, I envisioned reckless parties and a continued desire to fill an aching hole within himself, all the while refusing the only true means of fulfillment.

I don’t know how to prove the existence of God.  I can give them different arguments for God’s existence but I cannot give to them my experience of God or the fact that I know, without a doubt, that God is present and that He loves me.  In many ways, I am baffled by disbelief.  I understand that I am a teacher and I am supposed to help them through these things, but it is not something I have experienced myself.  Sometimes I was angry at God, sometimes I felt He didn’t care about me, but I always thought He was there.  I see my students aching for God and yet not even willing to acknowledge the ache.

When I hear their questions or their critique of the Church I wonder how we can see things in such a different light.  I see a loving Mother and they see rules.  I see a tremendous love story and they see someone uninterested in their lives.  It doesn’t make me doubt my faith or doubt God.  Rather, it makes me desire, somehow, someway, to give them my faith, to help them understand God, to trust in Him.  I haven’t figured it out yet, but there must be a way.

Holding Up the Falling Apart

How do we transform a culture?

I have very few ideas but I see a great need for it to take place.  When I see the hardened, embittered faces of my students as we have a discussion about something the Church teaches, there is a tendency to despair.  How can these youth of 17 or 18 already have such a distaste for a Church I love so ardently?  It is hard to determine if this is the fruit of their teenage angst and rebellion or if it is the result of a culture that is paganizing our youth right in front of us.

And who is to blame?  I know it isn’t necessary to point the finger.  Maybe it isn’t even helpful.  But there must be someone who is failing which leads to us having this mounting problem.  Is the school failing?  What is the responsibility of the school in regards to nourishing the faith?  Is the parish failing?  How much is the result of poor catechesis from the parish and diocese?  Are the parents failing?  How much is blamed on the parents not modeling the faith for their children and how much is due to their own faulty knowledge of the Church and her teachings?

I don’t know who is mainly to blame but I do know that we all reap the negative consequences of a society that is becoming increasingly pagan.  And if a specific group isn’t doing their expected share, there must be a way for the others to step up and help fill in the gaps.  Obviously it would be ideal for the main education to come from parents who are ardently in love with their faith and on fire for Jesus Christ.  In this ideal world they would also be supported by wonderful extended families, solid priests, evangelizing parishes, and a diocese that takes holiness seriously.  And of course this would include authentically Catholic elementary, middle, and high schools as well as universities and religious orders.

Somewhere, though, the ball is getting dropped.  The result is that I face a classroom full of seniors in high school who already seem jaded and hard-hearted.  (Not all of them, granted.)  It seems almost like a futile effort.  I feel so easily frustrated and hurt when they express a disdain for the Church.  They eye her suspiciously and know that she must be looking for ways to box them in, for ways to steal their joy and fun.  And with this mentality there seems to be little I can do to sway them.

The other day I found myself talking to one of my senior classes about the Church’s teaching on homosexuality.  Their faces were hard and critical.  A few had smug looks or mocking smirks.  My heart ached for them, trapped in their culturally indoctrinated mindset.  How do I reach them?  How do I explain that the Church is not bent on hatred but solely on love?  How can I shatter their misconceptions of the Church?  So I told them that even if they don’t understand what the Church teaches, even if they don’t agree with what the Church teaches, that they strive to believe that the Church loves them and desires the best for them.  She isn’t trying to think of rules to trap them but is giving them guidelines to live in true and authentic freedom.  Trust that she is acting out of love and not like a tyrant.  Because that changes everything.

There is a delicate balance between realizing it doesn’t rely on me and yet desiring enough to do what I can with what the Lord has given me.  Because it is so easy for me to simply chalk the world up to ridiculous and then retreat to my Catholic bubble.  But this world falling apart does affect me.  Even if I try to isolate myself from it all, it will impact my life because it is impacting the world and I live in it.  And hopefully someday I will have kids and I cannot simply tell them to hide from the world for their entire lives.  Jesus said something that seems to contradict that lifestyle.  Something about being light and salt to the world.  The Lord has given me a mission and it is my duty to fulfill that mission to the best of my ability.  So when I try and the world still seems to all fall apart, I can rest in the knowledge that God knows, God cares, and God has a plan.  Even the falling apart is resting in His hands.

Autumn
The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no.”

And tonight the heavy earth is falling

away from all other stars in the loneliness.


We’re all falling. This hand here is falling.

And look at the other one. It’s in them all.


And yet there is Someone, whose hands

infinitely calm, holding up all this falling. 

Rainer Maria Rilke     

I forgot to look for Jesus…

Last night there was a moment in spiritual direction when the priest was talking to me about seeing Jesus in my students.  I was nodding my head, having heard this before and thinking I already knew it but still glad to hear it again.

Then I realized.  I haven’t been looking for Jesus in my students.  I teach them about Jesus, Sacred Scripture, and the Sacred Tradition of the Catholic Church and I forgot to look for Jesus in them.  I mean, to seriously look for Jesus in them.

I briefly imagined what that would look like.  To look at a classroom full of students and see 25 varying pictures of Christ looking at me.  To teach to Jesus residing within each one of their souls and to know that, despite exterior appearances, despite however little response I may receive, that Jesus is resting within them.  To know that Jesus, within them, is receiving my words.  To know that not every person is against me because Christ, dwelling in them, is very much for me.  I imagined being able to look at a student who was annoyed with me, making a scene in my class, or being extremely critical and having the grace to calmly ask myself where Jesus was in that student.

That changes everything.  It doesn’t make all of the problems or troubles go away.  It doesn’t make all of students like me.  But I can know that there is someone, very present in the room, who is rooting for me, who is willing me to remain faithful, who is sympathizing with me.  He is not just with me, He is with them, too.  Mother Teresa found Christ in the poorest of the poor.  The streets of Calcutta might not be my streets to go out on but I have a different kind of mission field.  And like the streets in India, it is brimming with the many faces of Christ.  If I but have the eyes to see and the heart to love.

Bl. Mother Teresa, pray for us.
Bl. Pope John Paul II, pray for us.

One Little Success for the Holy Spirit

It is the little things that seem to make a world of difference.  I remember reading a quote by a saint that essentially critiqued the readers for allowing their emotions to control them so much.  That we allow ourselves to become unduly happy when things go well and inordinately depressed when things go badly.  Instead, we are to remain more constant, trusting everything to the Lord.

I do not do that very well.  Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy.  I’ll take it.  There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy.  The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme.  Silly, perhaps.  I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints.  The little things.

Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn’t even know I was in a battle.  A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore.  I love books.  I love to buy books.  I wish I could buy more books.  I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God’s grace, an addiction to pornography.  I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued.  The price was $8-9 for one copy.  However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book.  I love a good deal.  Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.

Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read?  I was just about to say “No” when I felt something within that told me to just buy them.  So I did.  And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep.  Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it.  I didn’t read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken.  I don’t know much about pornography.  In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in.  I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don’t typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.

The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students.  I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn’t make a difference.  So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do.  I offered them extra credit.  The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit.  All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs–one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.

Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled.  Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate.  My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories.  Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them.  The possibilities are endless!

This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through.  Yet it seems like a triumph to me.  I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield.  So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.

Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?

(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth!  http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)    

UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement.  One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it.  I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies.  Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago.  It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in.  He told me he plans to read the whole book.  Deo gratias!  Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!

"Really?!" Semi-Awkward, Semi-Hilarious, Entirely my Life

Sometimes I have to look at events that occur and simply ask, “Really?!”  It doesn’t have to be that huge of an event but sometimes the way things work, or don’t, is almost comical.

Take today, for example.  My Scripture class learned what the phrase “nakedness of his father” actually meant.  For the record, I had no intention of revealing this little tid-bit to my classes.  I didn’t last year, and I had every intention to continue that trend this year.  Nevertheless, I decide to tell them when I learned the other teacher had told his classes what it meant.  I figured it would prevent any questions about it arising later but now I think it never would have surfaced.  The topic was broached and passed over in my third period class.  The idea that Ham committed incest with his mother was repulsive, as evidenced by the looks on their faces, but I moved on fairly quickly to the story of the Tower of Babel.  Class moved slower for my sixth period class because I had to give a lecture about respect to my students.  With a mere ten minutes left of class I was nearing the time to reveal to them what the euphemism actually meant.

Lo and behold, in walks my principal.  For a brief moment I considered bypassing the phrase and going on to the Tower of Babel.  Was it really that important anyway?  What point did it prove?  Despite my hesitation, I committed myself to proceeding in the intended manner because the presence of my principal shouldn’t alter what I teach.  This class is naturally a more reactive class so I wasn’t surprised when the murmuring began.  You can only tip-toe around the matter for so long before it is necessary to plunge in and just say what it means.  He appeared quite interested as I tried to guide my students around this delicate event.  I placed my emphasis largely on what Ham was saying by this action.  Time soon ran out and the bell rang.

He just couldn’t come when I talked about the flood, when we read different Scripture passages from the Old and New Testaments about the flood, when we read about the covenant that God makes with Noah, or when we drew pictures about the different covenants.  Today I actually managed to vary the class and incorporate different teaching aspects.  Yet all that was seen was a ten minute lecture at the end of class about how Ham had relations with his mother.

I’m not sure if I am more horrified by the events or if I simply find it awkwardly hilarious.

All I could think when the door handle turned and I saw my principal walk in was, “Really?  Really!”

On the plus side–perhaps he learned something and I subtly proved that I do have a degree in Theology that has afforded me unique knowledge about Sacred Scripture.  Or I am simply ruining my students’ opinions of the characters of the Bible.

It could have been worse, right?

The Art of Going Deeper

You think you know something.  And then you find out that you really had no clue.

Yesterday my Scripture class was learning about the Fall of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Ever since taking an Old Testament Scripture class in college, I have had a deep love and appreciation for the Old Testament.  Perhaps my “love” isn’t quite as passionate as it should be, but there are parts of the Old Testament that I will return to and soak in the goodness of salvation history.  The story of creation and the fall of man is one of those stories.

I was guiding them through Gen. 3 where the serpent began to wheedle his way into the innocent hearts of the first couple.  Reviewing the story again I was amazed by the goodness of God and the way He loved us from the beginning.  He asks little of us and when we fail to give Him that little, He is quick to promise redemption.

The serpent from his very first words is twisting the beauty and goodness of God and tries to portray Him as a harsh dictator.  “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?'”  Very quickly the loving generosity of God is portrayed as miserly withholding.  “You will not die.  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”  He dares to blatantly contradict God yet he always operates under half-truths.  Adam and Eve do not die an immediate physical death.  Yet the death they undergo is of a far more detrimental sort–they die spiritually and face separation from God.

The serpent sows seeds of doubt in the hearts of Adam and Eve.  “Does God really have your best interests in mind?  Is He holding out on you?  Can you really trust Him?”  They begin to wonder if perhaps everything they never knew they wanted could be found within the fruit of this tree.  Perhaps God, all-good, all-giving, all-knowing, perhaps He cannot be fully trusted.

They buy stock in that lie and it turns out to be the worst thing they could have possibly done.  The facade crashes around them and the lie becomes apparent.  As they realize they are naked and have fallen from grace, I can only imagine that the serpent did not remain silent.  At this point he was probably whispering to them how disappointed God was with them, how things could never be the same, and that their sin was irreparable, unforgivable, too big for the mercy of God.

It struck me while I was speaking to them about these doubts that Satan whispered to our first parents, that we hear those same words, too.  I told them this.  But my realization was that when I was their age, I wouldn’t have believed myself.  I would have claimed to not listen to Satan or to mistrust God or doubt His intentions.  When I was 15-16 years old I would have said I trusted God.

Now I am far closer to God and I am beginning to realize how little I trust Him.  I begin to see how I do listen to the voice of the enemy and how I doubt God’s intentions, plans, and desires for my life.  When I was the age of my students I would have thought that I didn’t doubt God because I was close to Him.  Now that I am closer to Him, I see that I doubt Him.  It is a beautiful mystery that in the spiritual life, the closer we come to the light (and I am by no means very close to holiness or this light) the more we can see our own darkness and imperfections.  We see places that need to be purified and cleansed where before we thought we were perfectly healed and whole.

So we delve deeper into the garden of our hearts.  We question why we run from the God who made us, loves us, and wills us into existence.  We realize that we are running from Him.  As we turn to hide and cover ourselves, we ask why we are ashamed and what needs covering.  When I taught Totus Tuus I would have little kids tell me that if they were Adam and Eve, they would have listened to God.  My response probably wasn’t as delicate as it should have been–I told them that they would have done the exact same thing and that Adam and Eve made the choice on behalf of humanity.  My innocent little 3rd and 4th grade Totus Tuus children probably didn’t understand that.  But if I reflect on my day and my life, I can see how nearly every day I have eaten the fruit and then run away from the sound of my Lord seeking after my heart so that he may simply be with me.  He comes to seek me out and forgive me and I run away, saying I am unforgivable.

Lord, help us to delve deeper.  Grant us the grace to dig beneath the surface and look past what we have assumed to be true.  Help me to trust in You with a genuine trust that will enable a wholehearted joyful surrender.

Sunflowers for the Teacher

Yesterday I probably should have been preparing or sleeping or doing something mildly helpful but instead I was watching the sequel to “Anne of Green Gables” and loving it.  She is a character that I like to think I am similar to.  While many mightn’t see the correlation, it is there–the competitive streak, the stubbornness, the ability to hold grudges forever, the teaching career, the desire to write, etc.  So after watching the movie, I went out and picked some sunflowers near the railroad tracks.  I felt a little like Anne as I did so.  As I meandered into the tall grass, I tried to keep my imagination from thinking of the snakes and various animals that could lie lurking amid the grass and stickers.  I cut some sunflowers, brushing off more than a few bugs, and thought of how Anne-like I would seem as I walked home with a bunch of sunflowers gathered in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.  I was only missing a long skirt and a head of red hair.  [Not to mention a gorgeous man in love with me since meeting me.  Alas, no Gilbert Blythe for me.  Oh, well…that is of little importance.  🙂 ]

The little sunflowers, now smiling and nodding happily on my desk, have been a source of joy for me this entire day.  They are drinking up some cool, clear water and rest in a vase that I found at a thrift store with my sister.  Pale translucent green and delicate, the vase dazzles with the beauty of simple wild sunflowers in it and the sunlight streaming through the window.  I had prepared the perfect words for if my students asked about the flowers so that I wouldn’t have to lie and yet it wouldn’t be revealed that I live at home.  I’m not certain if they even noticed them.  Nevertheless, they brought joy to the teacher.

The Lord loves me through beauty.  The beautiful look of attention on a few students’ faces…the radiant sun sharing its warmth…the intimacy of Mass in a school chapel, surrounded by youth…the successful completion of my first full week of school…the satisfaction of a classroom of my own…the anticipation of family togetherness tonight…music that makes me dance or think…the knowledge that I have two blessed days that stretch out before me with no lessons to teach…time with my sister before she heads off to school…the enduring hope and eager anticipation of Heaven.  Thanks, Lord.

Teach through me, O Holy Spirit…

August 21, 2013

My second year of teaching has begun and I am peddling my way through the first week.  It is a long and arduous task to jump back into teaching.  However, my dad is quick to remind me (and therefore not sympathize with me) that I had the entire summer to do nothing.  After last year, I believe teachers deserve that.  Yes, of course I would say that.

I just wanted to quickly share a little blessing from today.  This year I’m starting each class with some personal prayer time for my students.  The idea is for it to be a transition time from other classes and help them focus on how this is different than the rest of their day.  Today my sophomores prayed with St. Augustine’s prayer to the Holy Spirit.

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. 
Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. 
Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. 
Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. 
Amen.

I asked them to spend some time reading through it and then to find a line that jumped out to them or that they liked and sit with it for a while.  I encouraged them to close their eyes and pray with the line, meditating on what they are asking the Holy Spirit to do in that line.  My first class did it well enough but my second class really took it home.  As I write this I consider that being a high school teacher has taught me to count the little victories. 

My second Scripture class spent some time praying with it and they seemed to be pretty still.  I asked how many of them liked the quiet, expecting them to respond negatively.  The majority of the class raised their hand and said they liked the quiet.  Taking another brief poll, I asked if many had a line that jumped out at them or if they just picked what they liked best.  Again a majority said one line seemed to jump out at them.  I asked for a couple to share what line they had prayed with and the first person shared that they chose the first line but that they didn’t get it really.  That was the line I had prayed with and so I was eager to share what I had thought about.  I asked them to close their eyes if they wanted and to concentrate on their breathing.  I let a couple seconds pass and because my eyes were closed I didn’t know if anyone was complying or if they were staring at the crazy lady in the front of the classroom.  Then I told them to think about each breath in as though they were breathing in the Holy Spirit.  And to consider that the Holy Spirit was sanctifying their thoughts and everything within them.  Just a few more seconds passed before we continued with class but for me it was a beautiful moment. 

Despite what I am often led to think, the youth have depth and desires that can be surprising.  It was a reminder that the Holy Spirit can lead and guide far better than I can.  Thank You, Lord, for little blessing, for giving me hope, and for reminding me that if I simply bring them to You, that You will take care of the rest.

Come, Holy Spirit….. 

Loving the Bride of Christ

Prior to Lent I went on a silent retreat.  It was beautiful and a source of growth.  Now, I have the random instances when I am by myself in my classroom or at home and I will whisper something and then I will wonder, slightly panicked, if I was supposed to be silent.  Then I remember that I do not have to be silent.  This must not be a widespread problem I am thinking!

On Tuesday some of my students were still talking about the pope resigning.  There was a comment from one of the girls that said her mom told her the pope probably resigned because priests in Ireland molested little boys.  The comment frustrated me because if Catholics are going to proclaim this as the reason for his resignation, then I am scared to see what the media will do with the situation.  I don’t even need to look at the news to see some of the stones they will be hurling at the papacy, the Church, and anything slightly Catholic.  Anyway, I went on to speak for them a while about how I hoped that someday they would love the Church.  I wanted to say it but at first I just started with, “Someday…”  Then I stopped and turned to my computer, trying to not rant just to rant.  But a couple of the students said, “Someday what?”  I took this as my permission to lecture them a little.  I told them that I hoped someday they would love the Church so much that when someone else criticized her or hurt her, that they would feel the pain, too.  I included that the Church is imperfect in her members but that she is still the Church that Jesus Christ founded.  They didn’t have much to say after that but I wanted to include that I hoped they would feel the pain that I did when they spoke about her like the rest of society does and when they reveal no love in their hearts for the very bride of Christ.

This lack of love for the bride of Christ is something that extends far beyond the youth.  Yesterday I had parent teacher conferences and I had a 10-15 minute conversation with one mother and her daughter.  Essentially the mother was telling me that the school, diocese, and Church speaks way too much about abortion and that they need to move on to other social justice issues.  Like economics and the poor.  I tried to explain to her that if we begin with conception and teach people to understand and respect life in the beginning that the rest will follow but she wasn’t buying that explanation.  There was an interesting moment when she said, “Abortion is killing the Church.”  She went on to explain that people are constantly leaving the Church due to the issue of abortion.  But I agreed with her and said, “Yes, abortion is killing the Church.”  She picked up on my meaning and told me that we meant two different things and I agreed with her.  When I realized I had other parents waiting for me, I knew I had to wrap this conversation up since neither of us was going to convince the other.  I told her if she had ideas of what else to teach she could definitely e-mail me and I would look at them.  I didn’t promise I would teach them but I told her I would be talking about abortion because it would be an injustice not to.  It was easy to not take her criticism too personally because she was being critical of the theology department, the parishes in Sioux Falls, and the entire Catholic Church.  Telling her frustrations to a first year teacher wasn’t going to accomplish anything, especially when I don’t agree with her completely and most of the people in charge would be on my side.

I have realized over the past few months teaching that I have a deep love for the Church.  While it wasn’t as though I thought I didn’t before, a few instances have come up when I realize my love.  When my students are being extremely critical of her and pointing out all of her flaws, it hurts me.  I try to explain it all in ways they will understand but to a certain degree, they will never understand until they experience this same love that I have.  Pope Benedict’s resignation came as a surprise but I came away with gratitude for his humility and his love for the Church.  He never wanted to be in the spotlight but he did so for the good of the Church.  Now he is resigning for the good of the Church.  Not because of scandal or mistakes but because he loves his bride so much that he wants nothing bad to happen to her, he wants someone to adequately defend her.  He is being like Jesus on the cross, surrendering his mother to the hands of the young disciple.  What a gift his papacy has been for the Church.  The media will never admit this but I don’t expect them to.  I do, however, expect Catholics everywhere to stand up and the proclaim this truth and to not simply become one of the crowd, believing everything that the secular media writes or says.

Pray for Pope Benedict XVI!  Pray for the new pope!  Pray for our Church!  Pray for the youth!  Church Militant–let’s get fighting, marching, proclaiming, and defending!  Viva Cristo Rey!