When God Wills the Ordinary

When God Wills the Ordinary

It is incredibly easy for me to think that everyone else has a far better job than I do.  Over the past few years, I seem to have perfected the skill of viewing the neat ways that everyone else can live out their job as an apostolate for Jesus.  Yet I seem to miss the ways in which I can do the same thing…in a Catholic school…teaching Theology.

Parked outside the Cathedral the other day, I thought of how neat it would be to show up to such a place for work.  Wouldn’t it be neat to work for the Diocese?  Or I’ll go to a restaurant and think about how wonderful it could be to subtly evangelize while serving people their food.  Just a few weeks ago I had my students make lists of different secular jobs and then brainstorm ways to live the Gospel in the midst of such work.  And I can give you a decent list for most jobs that are not immoral.  I miss, however, the ability to live it out in the midst of a job that is so clearly evangelistic.

Because, so often, I want something else.  Something easy.  Something challenging.  Just something different than the lot I have been given. Continue reading “When God Wills the Ordinary” →

To Affirm is to be Vulnerable

To Affirm is to be Vulnerable

I dislike feeling vulnerable.  This doesn’t mean that I never share my thoughts or feelings with others because I definitely do.  Rather, I need it to be in a safe place.  My students, generally speaking, are not that safe place.  Some classes have been exceptionally open and I’ve found it easy to share my heart with them, but that is not the norm.

As far as I can remember, those classes have always been my sophomore classes.  Sometimes I force myself to be vulnerable with them, though.  It is difficult because: they are teenagers, they don’t understand the significance, and I feel like it places me in the position to get hurt.  And I, human that I am, don’t like to be hurt. Continue reading “To Affirm is to be Vulnerable” →

Not Burdensome

Not Burdensome

During 8th period yesterday, I found myself embroiled in an unexpected debate on modesty.  It was interesting, albeit slightly frustrating, to hear the girls present the woes of being asked to dress modestly.  And, to a degree, I would agree with them that the rules of dress tend to be more strictly enforced for women.  They argued about short shorts and the horror of needing to cover their shoulders.  Even in their discussions, they admitted that modesty was enforced differently by different teachers and that one rule didn’t always work the same for everyone.  The true problem, however, is one of feeling burdened. Continue reading “Not Burdensome” →

Surrendering

Surrendering

One of my friends and I were looking at a listing of the different “definitions of Hell” based on a person’s Myers-Briggs personality type.  There were a few that seemed to fit well with me, but the one that stood out was for the INTJ personality.  “Every time you open your mouth to say something intelligent, something entirely idiotic comes out instead.”

We agreed that the scenario would be pretty awful.  Then I remembered when I had my four wisdom teeth removed.  I was awake for the procedure, but my mouth was injected and numbed so that I couldn’t feel pain.  Afterwards, my mom came in to see me.  For some reason, it was incredibly important for me to convey to my mom that I was still perfectly logical, even with all of the pain meds. Continue reading “Surrendering” →

Graced

Graced

Anger is like a dead weight.

The fool thinks that anger will invade only one area of his life.  He thinks that anger can be compartmentalized from the rest of one’s feelings and actions.  That fool thinks that the heart can be subdivided, anger for some and happiness for the rest.  He is wrong.  

Or she.  

Or me.

After days of being angry, I decided to not be.  I will not, of course, downplay the workings of grace.  Grace was imperative for me to see what I was choosing to do to my own heart.  In the beautiful mystery that is God, the Holy Spirit prepared my heart to receive the graces needed to take a step away from the anger and frustration. Continue reading “Graced” →

Journals

Journals

Would I want my great-grandchildren to read my journals?

This was something I pondered this past week with a couple friends.  My initial response is one of mild horror.  Someone reading my journals?  Learning about the deep secrets I have attempted to lay bare for the sake of my sanity?  I was not in favor of it.  Not unless I could self-edit some of the more ridiculous parts, leaving the entries that would make me look holy and intelligent.

Though I have slowed down in the past year, I have written fairly extensively about the inner-workings of my heart and mind.  They aren’t literary masterpieces, but I like to write honestly and in detail.  The journals are primarily prayer journals.  Yet I strive to speak to Jesus as I would to a closest friend which means that they are riddled with exaggeration, frustration, and melancholy as well as excitement, joy, and great fervor.

Yet the only consolation I can conjure when thinking about my great-grandchildren reading my journals is that I would be dead if that happened.  And if I would be dead, then I would hardly be concerned with what they were reading.  But as it so happens, right now I am very much alive and the hypothetical situation alarms me.  I cannot help but wonder what they or anyone else would think should they stumble upon my journals.

Currently, I am on my tenth (or so) journal and I began shortly before college started.  They are of different shapes and styles but I lean toward the elegant ones with built in bookmarks because they make me feel as though I am writing a real book.  A couple are travel journals, speaking of excursions during my semester abroad as well as the Camino.

“Wouldn’t you want to read your Great-grandmother’s journals if you could?” my friend asks me as we discuss the situation.  Perhaps.  Of course it would be interesting and give a glimpse into the life of someone I never knew.  But I just assume my Great-grandmother wasn’t half as ridiculous as I am.  At least, I hope for her sake she wasn’t.

Perhaps, I pondered, I could simply request that they burn my journals after I die.  Yet there is little to stop them from not following my wishes and there have been several times in history where such requests were not followed.  In fact, such a request would probably heighten curiosity.  Yet the thought of me burning my journals is too difficult at this point.  They are friends.  They reveal previous versions of Trish that are all still very much present in my life today.  Today I re-read part of a journal from about five years ago and was a bit peeved to discover I am still very much as I was then.  The progress of this heart is slow and tedious.

Only the Lord knows when I will die so I won’t spend too much time worrying about people reading the secrets of my heart etched on paper.  These journals would certainly curtail any canonization process, that is for certain!  If my great-grandchildren read them, they would be more convinced of my utter humanity and how foolishness pervades every generation.  But, I suppose, the writings could also encourage them and reveal parts of my necessary conversions.

I don’t have plans for now to start editing my journals or changing the way I write.  But if I happen to die soon, I caution anyone with the desire to crack open those journals and read them.  And as for those hypothetical great-grandchildren reading them, as I told my friends, at the rate I’m going, I don’t have to even think about meeting them unless we start living well into our hundreds.

Praying for Them

Praying for Them

Maybe the reason God arranged it so that I would be “randomly” selected to chaperone the dance was because He knew my response.  If my internal dialogue could have been heard by my fellow chaperones, I’m certain I would have been given all kinds of weird looks.  As I was being filled in on the less-than-admirable extra-curricular activities of the students, I was praying for them.  I was looking out at the dance floor, vaguely picking up on the words of music I don’t listen to, and praying that the Blood of Jesus would cover them.

I watched them.  And I wished I could force-feed them some of my experiences, some of my certain knowledge.  They are fervently racing after fulfillment, happiness, and satisfaction.  Yet they are running in the wrong directions.  I almost felt like I was in a burning building with them as they ran around, looking for the exit.  Meanwhile, I am standing near the exit, holding an emergency manual, but they are convinced that there must be some other way.  It made my heart ache for them in a new way.

Taking in the scene make me grateful, though.  In a fairly affluent school, I could see a definite materialism within them.  Success seems to be clearly defined as making money or making a name for yourself.  And I was grateful that I was not raised with such expectations.  I’ve wanted to be a teacher since third grade and my parents supported me: proof that making money wasn’t a part of their philosophy of success.  I don’t blame the students for seeking money and success if they are what are taught as the most important things in life.  But I know that isn’t where true fulfillment is found.  I know I have great freedom because I don’t place tons of value in money, expensive things, or positions of authority and power.

Despite the times they make me want to pull my hair out or roll my eyes or end the day early, I have an affection for my students that is abiding.  A student who is struggling stopped by my classroom and although we aren’t particularly close, my heart was moved by them.  I smiled at the student and briefly reviewed the recent class work.  But when the student had walked out of my room, I realized the great look of vulnerability in their eyes.  Even though I was talking about videos and projects, I wanted to convey a sincerity and kindness toward them.  The only other thing I wanted to say but didn’t think of until later was simply, “It is good to see you.”  I’m glad you exist.

Because I am.  Frustrations and disappointments aside, I am glad my students exist.  I am glad I have them in my room and that I get to spend time with them.  And, because they are what they are and I am what I am, I will continue to pray for them, even if my prayers would cause people to look at me askance if they heard them.

Precious Blood of Jesus, pour over my students.  Sanctify, purify, and save them.

Nothing Wasted

Nothing Wasted

“Gather the fragments left over,
so that nothing will be wasted.”

At Mass yesterday, this verse from John’s Gospel struck me.  I heard it that morning when a group of students and faculty gathered in the chapel to open the day with prayer. Once again, it stood out to me during Mass.

Nothing will be wasted.

What a beautiful promise the Lord makes to us in that one verse.  He was speaking of the bread that had been multiplied to feed the hungry who had come together to hear Him preach.  If He says this about bread, how much more would He say it about my life? Continue reading “Nothing Wasted” →

To Be Known

To Be Known

After a long hiatus, I was out for a run, breathing in the distinct aroma of campfires in the cool spring evening.  The sun was setting and the sidewalks were essentially empty as I plodded along.  My mind sifted through different thoughts and different prayers.  For a while, it focused on my experience of the gaze of Jesus.

During my recent silent retreat, I was struck by the intensity and the depth of Jesus gazing at me.  I had entered into the story of the woman using her precious ointment for Jesus, but I felt I needed to go into her past more.  What made her go to Jesus and give Him her most precious possession?  To, in the eyes of the world, waste her fortune and her future?  I was drawn back to woman about to be stoned after being found in the act of adultery.  And I became her. Continue reading “To Be Known” →