To Write

I’ve wanted to write a book for years. When I was in first grade, I wrote a short story for a contest and I won. Several years ago, I went back and read the story, expecting it to be mildly phenomenal. Instead, I was surprised that it wasn’t that good at all. I basically wrote a story about a typical day in my life, some of it was true and some of it was embellished. In eighth grade, my English teacher really complimented my writing and encouraged me to start submitting articles for the town paper. Apparently, there was space to fill, since the next couple editors of the paper allowed me to submit articles periodically for the next few years.

Over the years, I have wondered what the Lord desired to do with this desire of mine to write. This blog started mostly as a way for me to process the new world of teaching high school students. Now it is a place where I reflect and share on a number of different thoughts and feelings that come up. Yet, still, I find a longing to write a book.

When I was younger, I assumed it would be a fictional novel. Since I lived on a steady diet of novels, I figured my love for them would bring about writing one of them. As time has passed, I’ve found myself wanting to write something nonfiction, but unable to quite put my finger on what it is I want to write.

This indecision is something that is familiar in my life. I need only glance around my room to see partially finished books, half-made plans, and a to-do list that goes back months. My desire to leap forward is tempered by a desire to not fail, to do the right thing at the right moment always. Yet I read the books or blogs that other people have written and while I enjoy them, I cannot help but think, I could write something like that. Continue reading “To Write” →

Seeking the Face of God, Even in Tragedy

“We live in a crazy world,” I told my class near the beginning of a class period.

“One of you asked if I had heard of the truck bombing and I thought I had, but I wasn’t sure if it was from last week or this week. Then I looked it up. Two hundred and seventy people died and it just sounded an awful lot like several other events. We live in a world where it is possible to be uncertain if a tragedy like this is news or something from a couple of weeks ago.”

This particular class period, we were reflecting on the Ignatian theme of finding God in all things. It is easy to find God in bits of beauty–in the sunset, the splendor of fall foliage, or the smile of a newborn. The difficulty is found in seeing the face of God in tragedy–the shooting in Las Vegas, the 9/11 attacks, or the truck bombing in Somalia.

Practice makes perfect, though, right? Or, at least, better?

So our class time was spent in small groups brainstorming a few tragedies and then considering how we can see God in the midst of these situations. I challenged them to go beyond the cliché lines they hear or the standard Theology class answers. Instead, I wanted them to delve into these painful situations and to truly seek the face of God.

This class period had the most somber tone of all my classes and I found myself telling them that I viewed this exercise in a hopeful way. Yes, we were talking about a loved one being diagnosed with cancer, terrorist attacks, natural disasters, and struggles in relationships, but we were doing so because we believe God can be found even there. Perhaps, especially there.

After a group presented how they found God in a particular situation, I opened it up to the entire class. Time after time, I asked, “Anything else? Any other ways you can see God in that situation?” There wasn’t a particular answer I wanted from them, I just wanted them to deeply reflect on all the possible ways God could be found in difficulty. My hope was that if they did this while a bit removed from some situations, they will be able to try to do it in the midst of suffering. I want them to remember that God can be found in all suffering. And I want them to know it in a visceral, heart-wrenching way and not simply a pat answer on a Theology exam. Continue reading “Seeking the Face of God, Even in Tragedy” →

Falling

The splendor of the leaves and their far-too-fast descent remind me of a beautiful poem by the German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke. I’ll let him do the work this time, not complicating the simple beauty he presents with my added words.

Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as from far off,
as though far gardens withered in the skies;
they are falling with denying gestures.

And in the nights the heavy earth is falling
from all the stars down into loneliness.

We are all falling. This hand falls.
And look at others; it is in them all.

And yet there is One who holds this falling
endlessly gently in his hands.

A Beauty Filled Life

As I walked the Camino, I found within myself a longing for beauty. Mile after mile passed beneath my feet and I made commitments to myself about how I would like to live my post-Camino life.

Read poetry every day.
Look at new artwork.
Listen to classical music.

All of those commitments and ideas didn’t translate as neatly into my reality as I had hoped. In the rush of the daily grind, it is difficult to intentionally set aside time to experience beauty. Most days, my taste of beauty happens when I remind myself to take in the fall foliage before winter sets in. But an intentional pursuit of beauty? Generally, that is non-existent.

Last night, I flipped through a book of poems entitled Poems You Ought to Know. My English degree (with a concentration in British and American Literature) meant that I recognized most of the names in the table of contents. Some of the poem names even sounded familiar, but few were ones I could stop and say, “Oh, I love this one!”

Edgar Allan Poe’s “Annabel Lee” was there and I recalled that in college I taught a lesson on this to a classroom of high schoolers during an education class. It is a beautiful poem, I think, even with the natural morbidity found in Poe’s works. The poetic devices that I had reviewed with the class came to mind dimly.

It makes me wonder why I don’t read poetry like my heart desires. Why do I not sit down and read a Shakespearean sonnet in the evening? Why don’t I learn about the famous classical composers? Why don’t I use the gift of the internet to virtually explore art museums and learn about the different periods in art history? I desire it. Why don’t I do it?

Because it is easier to not. Continue reading “A Beauty Filled Life” →

A Transforming Perspective

If you think I am a perfect person, this must be the first blog post you have ever read. That concept, that idea of perfection will be quickly shattered. And it should be, because it isn’t true.

Not long ago, I found myself in a situation where I would need to work at something with someone I didn’t know well. A few minutes into the encounter, prideful me thought, “I think this person can really learn a lot from me.” God is probably amused and a bit horrified by my internal dialogue. I didn’t mean it in a bad way and I didn’t think I was their savior by any means. In the moment, I simply thought this person could learn something from me.

However, an hour or so later, I came to the realization that actually that person might have a lot to teach me. In light of that awakening, I found my initial perception incredibly smug and prideful. It was a lesson in humility, one where I was able to see some of my flaws and shortcomings without there being a great embarrassing display.

The Lord is generous to me. He is quite generous in showing me the areas of my life that aren’t what they should be. He is also gracious, because He often makes these revelations in small, simple ways. A few words, a brief encounter, or a fleeting thought garners deeper insight upon later reflection.

He crushes me slowly, in a beautiful way. Continue reading “A Transforming Perspective” →

Sorrow and Joy

Yesterday, I stood on a busy street holding a sign.

It was Respect Life Sunday and my town has an annual Life Chain that stretches alongside the busiest road in the state. While I don’t participate absolutely every year, I try to go when I am able. Nothing about the situation was new.

Except my response.

In college, I spent many hours in front of an abortion clinic an hour from my school. The experiences there shaped my heart and the way I approach being pro-life. Some of the most difficult moments, the ones of heart-wrenching, soul-crushing sorrow, were on Highland Avenue. An intersection in town where it always felt a bit chillier than anywhere else. When I think about hardcore pro-life activism, I place myself back on the frontlines, where life and death literally hung in the balance.

On that busy street yesterday, it was not like my experiences in college. The sun came out and warmed my face. As a whole, the reactions from motorists were favorable. Many people waved, honked their horns, gave us a thumbs up, or even yelled a kind greeting to us. Children’s faces were pressed against windows as they watched the long line of people hold signs on the sidewalk. Overall, the experience was pleasant.

Two things stand out in my mind. Interestingly, the emotions are interwoven, although they seem to be contradictory. One is the image of a couple of police cars driving past our lines. An officer in one vehicle waved at us and the other gave us a thumbs up. For some reason, this moved my heart. Men in uniform, charged with protecting citizens and enforcing laws, were giving us a gesture of support. My heart filled with gratitude. In addition to the officers, the predominantly positive response from the passers-by was a cause for rejoicing.

Yet intermingled with this thankfulness was the realization that abortion still happens. Lives are still taken, hearts are still wounded, and skills of healing are still misused for destruction. Surrounded by young and old alike, I was grateful for the pro-life movement. Years ago I would have mourned for the children only. Yesterday, I was mourning for mothers and fathers, friends and family, doctors and nurses, everyone impacted by abortion in any way.

A woman drove by and yelled at us that everyone has the right to choose.

Everyone? Continue reading “Sorrow and Joy” →

Making a Mountain Out of a Molehill and Back Again

Sometimes, I do stupid things. Sometimes, I make small, insignificant situations into large problems. That seems foolish, but then sometimes I turn around and make a big deal of the little thing I made a big deal of.

Because: logic isn’t always my strong suit when it comes to feelings.

A situation at school that I could, and should, have handled better, snowballed into something more than it ever should have been. Yet when it reached its conclusion, I found myself quickly sliding into annoyance with myself over the entire situation.

“Trish, really? You let a little thing become so much bigger than it logically should have been. This is your sixth year and you are in charge of the department. Shouldn’t you know better?”

Maybe, I should have. But that isn’t what happened.

Instead, I experienced a situation where I didn’t do the best. It is even more self-defeating, though, to beat myself up over the situation. I would thereby perpetuate the problem. In the scheme of my day, this was a small matter and I shouldn’t give it more weight by focusing more time and energy on how I mismanaged the problem. Continue reading “Making a Mountain Out of a Molehill and Back Again” →

Joyless Pragmatism

“I just wanted you to know that I won’t offer to pray in class because I’m not Catholic. If you want, you can email my parents and ask them about it. But when you look around the room for volunteers to pray, that’s why I’m not offering.”

A student had approached me after class one day and started our brief conversation with that explanation.

“Oh? That is fine that you aren’t Catholic. I assume your parents are not either, so I wouldn’t email them about it. I still expect you to answer questions and participate in class, though”
“No, they are Catholic.”
“They are, but you aren’t?”
“Yes.”

I’ve often wondered why some people remain faithful to the religion of their parents and others don’t. Considering that this student brought this conversation up in the first place, I figured I could try to ask some questions to get some bearing on the situation.

“Are you Christian?”
“No. I believe in God, because I think it is silly not to. I just believe he created the world but isn’t really active in it. I’m not against Christians or anything. I just think you do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

This student seemed so…pragmatic.

I think the thing that struck me the most was how reasonable the student was striving to be. Granted, I am grateful when students are reasonable, but I couldn’t help but sense an absence of joy in this system of belief. In many ways, I was impressed with the responses I received to my questions. Yet I also wondered if this lack of belief stemmed more from a desire to be intelligent rather than closely examining the issues.

The popular notion of ‘you do you, I’ll do me’ continues to baffle me. If there is any honest pursuit of the truth, then clearly you doing your own thing and me doing my own separate thing cannot both lead to the correct answer. Continual diversity in beliefs cannot lead to unity in the end. Continue reading “Joyless Pragmatism” →

When the Exciting Journey Becomes Tiring, Carry On

Over three years ago, I filled a hiking backpack, flew to Europe, and walked El Camino de Santiago. The first day on the Camino, though difficult, was exhilarating. We walked from the beautiful little town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France, over the Pyrenees, and into Roncesvalles in Spain. The newness of the adventure combined with spectacular views made me excited nearly every step of the way.

The next morning, we were tired and sore, but eager to continue this 500-mile trek. So we set out again, walking for hours, taking in gorgeous scenery, and dining at little cafes or from our packed lunches.

Then we did that again. And again.

Sleep, rise, walk, eat, walk, Mass, eat, sleep. Repeat.

The tiredness soon was eclipsed by pain. My feet ached in a way they never had before. Blisters developed in tender places. The beginning of the day meant pressing my feet into my shoes and then starting the delicate process of walking. After a while, the pain dulled and seemed to fade into my subconscious. However, if we ever paused, my feet gave a fiery reminder to sit down or keep walking.

Yet even these blisters didn’t completely dampen my spirits. I knew they could happen and it was, in a way, part of the Camino adventure. Each day, I offered up my pain for different intentions and this made the journey a pilgrimage instead of a hiking trip.

One day, I no longer wanted to walk.

The intense desires to sleep in, be in the same place for more than 15 hours, or watch a movie were things I hadn’t anticipated when I started walking. There was a definite shift from “This is fun!” to “This is a pilgrimage.” Internally resistant to another day of plodding along, I realized that this adventure would require work and an embracing of the daily struggle.

And then I realized, this is a lot like life. Continue reading “When the Exciting Journey Becomes Tiring, Carry On” →

Cosmically Important

The other day, I was listening to a TED radio talk. Their topic was endurance and one man spoke about the endurance of the human species. He indicated that he would be surprised if there was no other intelligent life in the universe. However, he left the possibility open and said we might be the only ones out there. Then he, roughly, said the following, “If we are the only people to have ever existed, than what happens here is cosmically important.”

I don’t intend to dissect this from the context, but it means far more to me when I do. He was referencing the survival of humanity and the hope that we won’t be the cause of our own destruction.

What grabbed my attention, however, was the phrase cosmically important.

If what is happening here on Earth has never happened anywhere else, than what we do and how we live is important for the entire cosmos. I don’t think we should all freak out about every action, but it gives me a different perspective if I think about my actions impacting a cosmos.

How would we live is we viewed our lives on a cosmic scale? That doesn’t mean we become self-inflated or overly consumed with ourselves. Instead of giving myself pass after pass for living lower than I ought, seeing my actions as cosmically important might force me to shape up and live well. Continue reading “Cosmically Important” →

Seeking After His Heart

A Blog Following the Quest of A Human Heart

Tag: life