Saturday, June 25, 2011
An Open Letter
I made a few videos this morning as a series of open letters to my friends about the NY legislature's passage of the same-sex marriage bill. I've seen a lot of people be civil to each other over this issue, but I've seen so many more people be argumentative, rude, unkind, and downright cruel. I don't blame anyone for this, because I've seen it on both sides. I made these videos because I want to be able to tell people how I feel, but Facebook statuses don't really cut it, and I didn't really want to type it anyway, because words on a screen are too easy to misinterpret, even by accident. The videos are rough, as they were meant to be rough drafts, but after reviewing them, I don't know if I could say it any better, even with all the gaffes they include. So without further ado, here they are:
Blogger won't upload the last one, so I'll upload it separately.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
God's Tests
I don't like to study. At all. In my whole life, I can never remember liking to study, even the subjects I liked. This has resulted in more than one failed test, and unfortunately, many more passes than fails. It may come as a surprise to some that I consider having a photographic memory and high retention rate for facts "unfortunate", but I do. When other kids were off in their rooms studying feverishly for tests and quizzes, I was most likely reading a book or amusing myself in some other way. I was a smart kid, and for most of my academic life I have not really needed to study, though I have been hit in the face with that need more than once since entering college, and even a few times in high school.
Many times over the past year or so, I have labored in my spiritual life under the delusion that unlike many of the tests I have taken in academia, the tests God gives are surprises. No announcement a week ahead of time, no study guide, and no notes (though I admit He is much better at preventing the people He tests from cheating!). However, this is not true. Okay, so maybe I don't take spiritual notes on anything, but if I cared to look hard enough, I would certainly see it coming, and I read enough online and in books for them to serve as study guides. God is even nice enough to throw me lifelines in the middle of my tests in the form of my friends and anyone else who might have the answers to my questions.
But this doesn't mean I don't wish I'd learned to study. I was hit in the face with this fact this morning, reading one of my school's chaplain's blog posts. He mentioned how when people face difficulty in their lives, he asks them if they're praying. Not just "Do you say your prayers before bed?", but if they're saying heartfelt prayers and entering into meaningful conversation with God. Many people, he says, sheepishly admit that they're not doing so, and more often than not, neither am I. It kind of hurt me to admit that to myself, since I know I should be doing a better job in my prayer life, but I suppose that even as much as it hurts me, it must hurt God even more.
You see, as much as I try to be faithful, and oftentimes fail, I think of myself as the sheep from the Gospel of Luke. Except that I must be the most schizophrenic sheep in the entire world, because I will stray, allow God to find me, let Him take me at least part of the way back, and then start to fight Him. Or if I do get all the way back, I start peeking through the holes in the pasture fence to see what's outside, as if I hadn't just been there and discovered firsthand how bad it is. Saying this makes me realize just how silly this habit is, and how, if I had such a sheep, I would probably keep it under an extra lock and key to protect it from its own sheer stupidity. But no, this dumb little sheep is allowed her free will to go waltzing back out into her sin outside the pasture, and is promptly responded to when she bleats for the Shepherd to come find her and take her back home.
I find this is true now more than ever, as coming back home has provided ample opportunities for me to stray, and I knew it would. I was warned more than once that being at home would be hard, and I should build up a solid, regular prayer life where it was the norm while I could, so it would be habit when the school year was over. And I kinda, sorta listened to those warnings, but not nearly enough. I did pray every day, and I still do, but it's harder having to go almost from the ground up now that I'm no longer in a spiritual vacuum. In other words, I knew the test was coming, I got multiple warnings about it, and I decided not to study. I decided that I could make it through the test on what little effort I had to put in during class. Now, as with any academic test, I'm not quite halfway through, and already pulling about a C (if that).
Fortunately, God's tests, provided they're long enough, are the ones you can kind of study for while you're taking them. So all is not lost for the crazy sheep, though she will have to start really saying her prayers, and try not to stand so close to the gate. :)
Many times over the past year or so, I have labored in my spiritual life under the delusion that unlike many of the tests I have taken in academia, the tests God gives are surprises. No announcement a week ahead of time, no study guide, and no notes (though I admit He is much better at preventing the people He tests from cheating!). However, this is not true. Okay, so maybe I don't take spiritual notes on anything, but if I cared to look hard enough, I would certainly see it coming, and I read enough online and in books for them to serve as study guides. God is even nice enough to throw me lifelines in the middle of my tests in the form of my friends and anyone else who might have the answers to my questions.
But this doesn't mean I don't wish I'd learned to study. I was hit in the face with this fact this morning, reading one of my school's chaplain's blog posts. He mentioned how when people face difficulty in their lives, he asks them if they're praying. Not just "Do you say your prayers before bed?", but if they're saying heartfelt prayers and entering into meaningful conversation with God. Many people, he says, sheepishly admit that they're not doing so, and more often than not, neither am I. It kind of hurt me to admit that to myself, since I know I should be doing a better job in my prayer life, but I suppose that even as much as it hurts me, it must hurt God even more.
You see, as much as I try to be faithful, and oftentimes fail, I think of myself as the sheep from the Gospel of Luke. Except that I must be the most schizophrenic sheep in the entire world, because I will stray, allow God to find me, let Him take me at least part of the way back, and then start to fight Him. Or if I do get all the way back, I start peeking through the holes in the pasture fence to see what's outside, as if I hadn't just been there and discovered firsthand how bad it is. Saying this makes me realize just how silly this habit is, and how, if I had such a sheep, I would probably keep it under an extra lock and key to protect it from its own sheer stupidity. But no, this dumb little sheep is allowed her free will to go waltzing back out into her sin outside the pasture, and is promptly responded to when she bleats for the Shepherd to come find her and take her back home.
I find this is true now more than ever, as coming back home has provided ample opportunities for me to stray, and I knew it would. I was warned more than once that being at home would be hard, and I should build up a solid, regular prayer life where it was the norm while I could, so it would be habit when the school year was over. And I kinda, sorta listened to those warnings, but not nearly enough. I did pray every day, and I still do, but it's harder having to go almost from the ground up now that I'm no longer in a spiritual vacuum. In other words, I knew the test was coming, I got multiple warnings about it, and I decided not to study. I decided that I could make it through the test on what little effort I had to put in during class. Now, as with any academic test, I'm not quite halfway through, and already pulling about a C (if that).
Fortunately, God's tests, provided they're long enough, are the ones you can kind of study for while you're taking them. So all is not lost for the crazy sheep, though she will have to start really saying her prayers, and try not to stand so close to the gate. :)
Women of Grace
For the last few weeks, I've been watching the show Women of Grace on EWTN in between looking for jobs (and finally finding one!), and although I find it a little cheesy sometimes, I do enjoy it very much. It's an easy way to keep connected with my faith without my parents having to see, and it's on all week at the same time. The show's host, Johnette Benkovic, covers all sorts of different topics in her short half hour each day, and any viewer can tell that she earnestly desires for those who watch the show to know the God of love. She ends each episode by saying "Until next time, may the abundant life of Jesus Christ be yours", which I think is a sweet phrase, but also a sort of blessing on her viewers, though I doubt many of them are not actively seeking that life, such is the crowd that watches EWTN.
WoG is a lovely little respite for me each day, and often the highlight, except for yesterday. Three weeks ago, I was (FINALLY) able to make it to daily Mass and Adoration in a little church two towns over, and it was magnificent! I was the only person even remotely close to my age in the church (not counting the altar boys), but I didn't care. I sat and listened to the readings and the homily, and almost could have cried, I was so happy to finally make it back to God on a day that wasn't Sunday. Immediately after Mass ended, the altar boys and the priest started setting up for a holy hour, and I was psyched. I could barely concentrate on praying because I was genuinely that excited, and I wasn't disappointed. Almost nobody from Mass left, and they started Adoration with Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours (something I try to do every morning). After all that, I settled in to say the Rosary, and by the time I was done, I had a few minutes of quiet, personal prayer before Benediction. It was fabulous, and I loved every minute. :)
A couple of the women in the church approached me after Adoration had ended, since it's not often that teenagers run into church of their own volition at 7:30 a.m., and they probably wondered what had brought me out so early for no apparent reason. The answer, of course, was Jesus Christ, and we talked about our faith, and my future (as is inevitable, my being a college student and all). They told me they would pray for me, and for my school's Newman Center, since it has instilled in me a deep love of God and a solid, orthodox faith. I talked to one of them in the parking lot, and she took great joy in the fact that I was running after Christ, even though I was not in the place where my experience of Him was the strongest.
In the days since this Mass, I have tried to get to that church for Mass as often as I can, though often I don't make it because my father doesn't leave early enough for work for me to make the trip in time. I've considered leaving right after he does to try to catch what part of the Mass I can, or simply getting there in time for the Holy Hour they have every morning, but I don't know if I should. Part of that may be my neuroses about wanting to be on time for the whole thing, but I know that another part is that I feel there's a particular grace in going to Mass when I can now that it's rather less often than it is at school. I also know that there are graces in having the women I interact with at Mass and Johnette's wonderful (if occasionally campy) show as good examples for how to live during my remaining time at home.
WoG is a lovely little respite for me each day, and often the highlight, except for yesterday. Three weeks ago, I was (FINALLY) able to make it to daily Mass and Adoration in a little church two towns over, and it was magnificent! I was the only person even remotely close to my age in the church (not counting the altar boys), but I didn't care. I sat and listened to the readings and the homily, and almost could have cried, I was so happy to finally make it back to God on a day that wasn't Sunday. Immediately after Mass ended, the altar boys and the priest started setting up for a holy hour, and I was psyched. I could barely concentrate on praying because I was genuinely that excited, and I wasn't disappointed. Almost nobody from Mass left, and they started Adoration with Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours (something I try to do every morning). After all that, I settled in to say the Rosary, and by the time I was done, I had a few minutes of quiet, personal prayer before Benediction. It was fabulous, and I loved every minute. :)
A couple of the women in the church approached me after Adoration had ended, since it's not often that teenagers run into church of their own volition at 7:30 a.m., and they probably wondered what had brought me out so early for no apparent reason. The answer, of course, was Jesus Christ, and we talked about our faith, and my future (as is inevitable, my being a college student and all). They told me they would pray for me, and for my school's Newman Center, since it has instilled in me a deep love of God and a solid, orthodox faith. I talked to one of them in the parking lot, and she took great joy in the fact that I was running after Christ, even though I was not in the place where my experience of Him was the strongest.
In the days since this Mass, I have tried to get to that church for Mass as often as I can, though often I don't make it because my father doesn't leave early enough for work for me to make the trip in time. I've considered leaving right after he does to try to catch what part of the Mass I can, or simply getting there in time for the Holy Hour they have every morning, but I don't know if I should. Part of that may be my neuroses about wanting to be on time for the whole thing, but I know that another part is that I feel there's a particular grace in going to Mass when I can now that it's rather less often than it is at school. I also know that there are graces in having the women I interact with at Mass and Johnette's wonderful (if occasionally campy) show as good examples for how to live during my remaining time at home.
Monday, May 23, 2011
And In His Word Is My Trust
Wow, so summer break is getting off to a weird/turbulent/less than optimal start. No job yet, I'm missing Mass/Adoration/Confession/my friends, and today one of my best friends from high school got married. I've talked about this friend before, how she got back together with her abusive marine ex-boyfriend (now husband) when she found out she was pregnant with their child. Well, today they tied the knot in a little civil ceremony which I and our little group of high school friends attended.....
And to think this post could have gotten any more negative, dear me. That was originally going to be the beginning of what would no doubt have been a supremely depressing blog entry, but after waking up this morning in an unusually good mood (except for all the cat hair on my laptop :) I decided to scrap it, but keep the title. I'm realizing lately that I complain an awful lot, and for about as much as I tell people to offer it up when they're having problems, I so rarely take my own sage advice. Now don't go thinking I've got a swollen head, because I know from when I have offered up my problems what a good remedy it is. It doesn't solve the problems, certainly, but I find that I bear them much more patiently when I do than when I just complain to people about them, and to be sure, I have had a few problems recently. However, as brilliantly as always, I'm ignoring myself and others giving that same good advice to offer my problems up to God, and throwing myself a pity party. Well today I'm not. Today I resolve to offer up whatever ails me in any way.
One of my friends is a fantastic reminder of this, if only because he tells me to offer it up to get back at me for all the times I snottily told him to do so. Oftentimes, if I complain to him, I get told in his best imitation of me to offer it up. This same friend also has an admirable and sometimes amusing love of the Psalms, which has prodded me to flip through them occasionally to see what it is that he loves so much about them. Though his favorite is Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd..."), it is here that our tastes diverge, because my favorite is Psalm 130 ("Out of the depths I call to you, Lord..."). It is a piece in John Rutter's Requiem which I sang in high school, and since taking a look at it through the eyes of faith this past year, my appreciation of the Scripture and the piece has increased manifold.
Through reading and rereading the psalm, I've noticed not only John Rutter's fantastic sensibilities as a composer, but how he uses the music to emphasize the most important parts of the message. He starts the piece with an eerie cello solo, which stretches for six bars and leads into "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice". Then follows a strangely foreboding "O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint" crescendoing through "If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss: O Lord, who may abide it?" as the men pull back to a soft echo of "O Lord, who may abide it?". Suddenly there is a marked increase in volume for "For there is mercy with thee, therefore shalt thou be feared" which again crescendos through "I look for the Lord, my soul doth wait for Him". At that point is a most glorious crescendo into the crux of the entire piece, and indeed, the 130th Psalm. Starting somewhere between mezzo forte and forte and moving to fortissimo in one phrase, we hear "And in His word is my trust". Next is a quiet "My soul fleeeth (flee-eth) unto the Lord, before the morning watch, I say, before the morning watch" which again crescendos to a (marginally) less glorious "O Israel trust in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy. And with Him is plenteous redemption, and He shall redeem Israel from all his sins". Finally, a very soft "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice" is sung, before the voices quietly fade and the eerie cello starts its solo again.
Though there is much I would like to say about the piece, for now I only want to concentrate on the parts I've called "glorious", because I feel they are most important to this post. There is a reason that Mr. Rutter causes the choir to swell into "And in His word is my trust" and "And with Him is plenteous redemption, and He shall redeem Israel from all his sins", and that is that they are the most important phrases in the psalm. It's not that the other parts are necessarily unimportant, but that those are the most important parts of the psalm's message, i.e., trust in God and His redemption of men. And, getting more to the point today, that is why offering it up (for me, at least) is so crucial to do.
Most of the time, I find myself complaining rather than offering up my problems because complaining is easy, and offering it up means trusting God to take care of the problems in His own time and His own way. Trust is something most people have trouble with, but something we ought to be doing much more of than we do now, especially trusting in God. The redemption bit fits in here because people often don't trust that God will or even can redeem them, but in the psalm, the author does not mean "Israel" as we know it when he says "Israel". It's a metaphor for God's people. At the time, perhaps it meant the Chosen People, the Jews, but through Christ's Passion the pool of chosen people has extended to everyone. Ever.
So, today (and hopefully the rest of this summer) is about offering it up, because that means I'm trusting God, and by trusting God I'm letting Him take care of things the way He intended for them to be taken care of. And no relationship can exist without trust, and if there's no relationship with God, how can He redeem the person who rejects Him? In short, Not complaining---> Offering it up---> Trusting God---> Relationship with God---> Redemption---> Happy Christina. More or less. :)
And to think this post could have gotten any more negative, dear me. That was originally going to be the beginning of what would no doubt have been a supremely depressing blog entry, but after waking up this morning in an unusually good mood (except for all the cat hair on my laptop :) I decided to scrap it, but keep the title. I'm realizing lately that I complain an awful lot, and for about as much as I tell people to offer it up when they're having problems, I so rarely take my own sage advice. Now don't go thinking I've got a swollen head, because I know from when I have offered up my problems what a good remedy it is. It doesn't solve the problems, certainly, but I find that I bear them much more patiently when I do than when I just complain to people about them, and to be sure, I have had a few problems recently. However, as brilliantly as always, I'm ignoring myself and others giving that same good advice to offer my problems up to God, and throwing myself a pity party. Well today I'm not. Today I resolve to offer up whatever ails me in any way.
One of my friends is a fantastic reminder of this, if only because he tells me to offer it up to get back at me for all the times I snottily told him to do so. Oftentimes, if I complain to him, I get told in his best imitation of me to offer it up. This same friend also has an admirable and sometimes amusing love of the Psalms, which has prodded me to flip through them occasionally to see what it is that he loves so much about them. Though his favorite is Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd..."), it is here that our tastes diverge, because my favorite is Psalm 130 ("Out of the depths I call to you, Lord..."). It is a piece in John Rutter's Requiem which I sang in high school, and since taking a look at it through the eyes of faith this past year, my appreciation of the Scripture and the piece has increased manifold.
Through reading and rereading the psalm, I've noticed not only John Rutter's fantastic sensibilities as a composer, but how he uses the music to emphasize the most important parts of the message. He starts the piece with an eerie cello solo, which stretches for six bars and leads into "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice". Then follows a strangely foreboding "O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint" crescendoing through "If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss: O Lord, who may abide it?" as the men pull back to a soft echo of "O Lord, who may abide it?". Suddenly there is a marked increase in volume for "For there is mercy with thee, therefore shalt thou be feared" which again crescendos through "I look for the Lord, my soul doth wait for Him". At that point is a most glorious crescendo into the crux of the entire piece, and indeed, the 130th Psalm. Starting somewhere between mezzo forte and forte and moving to fortissimo in one phrase, we hear "And in His word is my trust". Next is a quiet "My soul fleeeth (flee-eth) unto the Lord, before the morning watch, I say, before the morning watch" which again crescendos to a (marginally) less glorious "O Israel trust in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy. And with Him is plenteous redemption, and He shall redeem Israel from all his sins". Finally, a very soft "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice" is sung, before the voices quietly fade and the eerie cello starts its solo again.
Though there is much I would like to say about the piece, for now I only want to concentrate on the parts I've called "glorious", because I feel they are most important to this post. There is a reason that Mr. Rutter causes the choir to swell into "And in His word is my trust" and "And with Him is plenteous redemption, and He shall redeem Israel from all his sins", and that is that they are the most important phrases in the psalm. It's not that the other parts are necessarily unimportant, but that those are the most important parts of the psalm's message, i.e., trust in God and His redemption of men. And, getting more to the point today, that is why offering it up (for me, at least) is so crucial to do.
Most of the time, I find myself complaining rather than offering up my problems because complaining is easy, and offering it up means trusting God to take care of the problems in His own time and His own way. Trust is something most people have trouble with, but something we ought to be doing much more of than we do now, especially trusting in God. The redemption bit fits in here because people often don't trust that God will or even can redeem them, but in the psalm, the author does not mean "Israel" as we know it when he says "Israel". It's a metaphor for God's people. At the time, perhaps it meant the Chosen People, the Jews, but through Christ's Passion the pool of chosen people has extended to everyone. Ever.
So, today (and hopefully the rest of this summer) is about offering it up, because that means I'm trusting God, and by trusting God I'm letting Him take care of things the way He intended for them to be taken care of. And no relationship can exist without trust, and if there's no relationship with God, how can He redeem the person who rejects Him? In short, Not complaining---> Offering it up---> Trusting God---> Relationship with God---> Redemption---> Happy Christina. More or less. :)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Fight the Good Fight (But Not Only of Faith)
For the past year or so, my parents and I have been engaged in what you might call a battle of wills over me going out and finding a job during the summer. Last summer, it didn't happen, and this upset them a great deal. It ended up upsetting me as well, because I then had to take a job that often felt more like scraping a cheese grater against my head than a task for which I was earning a better wage than most people with actual hourly jobs. Well this year has been significantly different, since school ended almost a month earlier, which freed me up to go job hunting at a time when many places near me need to hire people. I still consider the job search tedious, but today I discovered another added benefit of this search: greater spiritual strength.
I've never liked having to drive all over town to every store and walk in and ask the same question with the same, saccharine smile and tone: "Hi, are you currently accepting applications?" And for three days in a row, it's bored me to tears as it did last year and the year before, and the year before that. However, as I was in between horrendously long (no, seriously) internet applications because so few people do paper, I encountered a huge spiritual problem: I bumped into a forum on modesty where the moderator and her commenters were arguing about pornography.
Don't get me wrong here, I believe that porn is 100% wrong in all its forms, but in my past life (as recently as nine months ago) this was a big problem for me, and its specter continued to haunt me throughout this school year. I know that the main reason it even became a problem was that I've had my own laptop since middle school, and I've spent increasing amounts of time home alone with my usage completely unmonitored. And I know that even just for half an hour today, being home alone with my school computer provided an enormous temptation to which it would have been only too easy to give in. Coupled with the fact that I've been trying to keep up a regular prayer life in lieu of being able to go to Mass each day and Adoration and Confession each week, I've been getting a little bit despondent though I refuse to give in to temptation and start sinning the same way I was less than a year ago.
And this is why I need a job. Or rather, why I need to keep searching for a job. Yes, I really do detest driving around all day and asking the same tedious question to which an increasing number of answers are beginning to resemble "No, sorry, we're not interested in hiring anyone right now", but if I don't, sin creeps in and gets to work. The saying goes that an idle mind is the devil's playground, and having only to work fifteen hours a week for the last two summers, I know from experience just how much the devil likes to play and how little he likes to give up his old haunts. This is why I need a job. Not only do I like routine, but having a job will force me to establish one, and allow me to integrate as much prayer as I want into it, thus enabling me to fight the devil in his favorite form of temptation.
Saint Paul wrote in his first letter to Timothy in 6:12: "Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses" (NRSV). This verse is great for me, considering its direct application to this past school year. I did indeed confess to many witnesses in word and deed just how deeply I was immersed in my faith, and how much more deeply I wished to be immersed in it. I knew going into this summer that God was going to call me to be strong spiritually and emotionally, but I had no idea that He would use quotidian tedium to show me that I wouldn't just be trying to maintain momentum, I would be called to fight the good fight in a whole new way.
I'm hoping to finally be able to hit my first daily Mass in almost a week (le gasp!) tomorrow, as well as go in for my first job interview at a store that really, really seemed to need employees. I know that if I'm going to stay strong, pure, and out of trouble with my parents, I'm going to have to fight the good fight by getting up early, doing my hair, my make up, and driving across town for the fourth consecutive day. But at least now I know that when I hear the devil whisper five more minutes bright and early tomorrow morning, I'll get right up and dash for the shower and a quick shout out to St. Joseph for this job, so I can truly begin to fight the good fight and take hold of the eternal life to which I was called and for which I made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.
I've never liked having to drive all over town to every store and walk in and ask the same question with the same, saccharine smile and tone: "Hi, are you currently accepting applications?" And for three days in a row, it's bored me to tears as it did last year and the year before, and the year before that. However, as I was in between horrendously long (no, seriously) internet applications because so few people do paper, I encountered a huge spiritual problem: I bumped into a forum on modesty where the moderator and her commenters were arguing about pornography.
Don't get me wrong here, I believe that porn is 100% wrong in all its forms, but in my past life (as recently as nine months ago) this was a big problem for me, and its specter continued to haunt me throughout this school year. I know that the main reason it even became a problem was that I've had my own laptop since middle school, and I've spent increasing amounts of time home alone with my usage completely unmonitored. And I know that even just for half an hour today, being home alone with my school computer provided an enormous temptation to which it would have been only too easy to give in. Coupled with the fact that I've been trying to keep up a regular prayer life in lieu of being able to go to Mass each day and Adoration and Confession each week, I've been getting a little bit despondent though I refuse to give in to temptation and start sinning the same way I was less than a year ago.
And this is why I need a job. Or rather, why I need to keep searching for a job. Yes, I really do detest driving around all day and asking the same tedious question to which an increasing number of answers are beginning to resemble "No, sorry, we're not interested in hiring anyone right now", but if I don't, sin creeps in and gets to work. The saying goes that an idle mind is the devil's playground, and having only to work fifteen hours a week for the last two summers, I know from experience just how much the devil likes to play and how little he likes to give up his old haunts. This is why I need a job. Not only do I like routine, but having a job will force me to establish one, and allow me to integrate as much prayer as I want into it, thus enabling me to fight the devil in his favorite form of temptation.
Saint Paul wrote in his first letter to Timothy in 6:12: "Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses" (NRSV). This verse is great for me, considering its direct application to this past school year. I did indeed confess to many witnesses in word and deed just how deeply I was immersed in my faith, and how much more deeply I wished to be immersed in it. I knew going into this summer that God was going to call me to be strong spiritually and emotionally, but I had no idea that He would use quotidian tedium to show me that I wouldn't just be trying to maintain momentum, I would be called to fight the good fight in a whole new way.
I'm hoping to finally be able to hit my first daily Mass in almost a week (le gasp!) tomorrow, as well as go in for my first job interview at a store that really, really seemed to need employees. I know that if I'm going to stay strong, pure, and out of trouble with my parents, I'm going to have to fight the good fight by getting up early, doing my hair, my make up, and driving across town for the fourth consecutive day. But at least now I know that when I hear the devil whisper five more minutes bright and early tomorrow morning, I'll get right up and dash for the shower and a quick shout out to St. Joseph for this job, so I can truly begin to fight the good fight and take hold of the eternal life to which I was called and for which I made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Homecoming 2011
Just yesterday I returned home from school for the summer after completing my first year of college. It has been an exciting, frightening and tremendous year for me, and I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe the chemistry grade, but I digress. I knew it was going to be difficult to come home after a year at school in a vastly more exciting place than the one I come from, but also because of what the transition would mean for my faith. I would be leaving a place where I was surrounded by dozens of faithful Catholics who encouraged me to grow in holiness to a place where very few people at all would understand or support what was happening in my faith life.
In particular, I knew that my home life would become very difficult because my parents have taken the transition the hardest. This probably sounds strange, given that I've mentioned having a couple of fallings-out with friends from home, but they didn't have to remain friends with me, which they didn't. My parents are annoyed by my new-found adherence to the Church that my faith has brought me, but they certainly weren't willing to kick me out over it, so they're going to live with it for the summer. This is in no way saying that I'm going to flaunt any of this faith, because I'm not. That would be extremely foolish and would only serve to make the existing issues worse.
It certainly didn't help matters that today was my little cousin's First Holy Communion. My mother and I have gotten into a few tense spots already, and it was not going to help matters any that our family was going to see my cousin's mother and grandmother, neither of whom any of them like remotely. It also didn't help matters that I was the first person to interact with his mother after the Mass was over, since as a little boy with only one cousin (who had been away for the past eight months), I was the first person he wanted to see. So I walked over to hug my cousin and congratulate him on what he had just accomplished, and the great blessing he had just received, and when I was done, I happened to turn toward his mother.
You may have guessed from the way I referred to her that my cousin's mother is divorced from my uncle, and as I have already said, my family does not like her at all. But as she greeted me, I could tell that she was nervous, although she was perfectly kind in inquiring how I was and how my first year of college had gone, and I was moved for her because I couldn't imagine what would cause a forty-six year old woman to be afraid or nervous around a nineteen year old girl. It was funny how at that moment, I could not feel any ill will toward her, and nor did I want to. I smiled at her and told I was fine, the year had gone well, and asked how she was. I could instantly feel her loosen up, and I felt bad for her, because even though I know what transpired between her and my uncle, I also know the cruelty and ridicule she has faced at the hands of my family trying to protect my uncle, the youngest member of that generation.
I heard later all the things that were said about her, and I almost wanted to stand up and ask my relatives to give her a break because it's not as if her life is tremendously easier than my uncle's is. I know I can't say that to my family, but I couldn't and still can't help wanting to pray for her because I remember feeling so moved that she seemed so frightened of me, the only other child in the family (who could do her no harm).
This incident has proven to me that although my family and I still love each other very much, there is a widening gulf between us which I suppose it was naive of me not to expect. I want to see them experience conversion and an encounter with Christ so much, but I'm beginning to notice that I (unfortunately, but also somewhat fortunately I guess) am not the one called to be Christ to them. Somebody else will have that job, but I'm seeing that God is calling me to show Him to other people, people to whom I would not even expect God to show Himself, like my cousin's mother. So tonight I pray for my family and the people who show them Christ, but also for my cousin's mother in whom I saw Christ today.
If I thought it would mean anything at all, I would reach out and thank her as kindly as possible for showing me the face of God.
In particular, I knew that my home life would become very difficult because my parents have taken the transition the hardest. This probably sounds strange, given that I've mentioned having a couple of fallings-out with friends from home, but they didn't have to remain friends with me, which they didn't. My parents are annoyed by my new-found adherence to the Church that my faith has brought me, but they certainly weren't willing to kick me out over it, so they're going to live with it for the summer. This is in no way saying that I'm going to flaunt any of this faith, because I'm not. That would be extremely foolish and would only serve to make the existing issues worse.
It certainly didn't help matters that today was my little cousin's First Holy Communion. My mother and I have gotten into a few tense spots already, and it was not going to help matters any that our family was going to see my cousin's mother and grandmother, neither of whom any of them like remotely. It also didn't help matters that I was the first person to interact with his mother after the Mass was over, since as a little boy with only one cousin (who had been away for the past eight months), I was the first person he wanted to see. So I walked over to hug my cousin and congratulate him on what he had just accomplished, and the great blessing he had just received, and when I was done, I happened to turn toward his mother.
You may have guessed from the way I referred to her that my cousin's mother is divorced from my uncle, and as I have already said, my family does not like her at all. But as she greeted me, I could tell that she was nervous, although she was perfectly kind in inquiring how I was and how my first year of college had gone, and I was moved for her because I couldn't imagine what would cause a forty-six year old woman to be afraid or nervous around a nineteen year old girl. It was funny how at that moment, I could not feel any ill will toward her, and nor did I want to. I smiled at her and told I was fine, the year had gone well, and asked how she was. I could instantly feel her loosen up, and I felt bad for her, because even though I know what transpired between her and my uncle, I also know the cruelty and ridicule she has faced at the hands of my family trying to protect my uncle, the youngest member of that generation.
I heard later all the things that were said about her, and I almost wanted to stand up and ask my relatives to give her a break because it's not as if her life is tremendously easier than my uncle's is. I know I can't say that to my family, but I couldn't and still can't help wanting to pray for her because I remember feeling so moved that she seemed so frightened of me, the only other child in the family (who could do her no harm).
This incident has proven to me that although my family and I still love each other very much, there is a widening gulf between us which I suppose it was naive of me not to expect. I want to see them experience conversion and an encounter with Christ so much, but I'm beginning to notice that I (unfortunately, but also somewhat fortunately I guess) am not the one called to be Christ to them. Somebody else will have that job, but I'm seeing that God is calling me to show Him to other people, people to whom I would not even expect God to show Himself, like my cousin's mother. So tonight I pray for my family and the people who show them Christ, but also for my cousin's mother in whom I saw Christ today.
If I thought it would mean anything at all, I would reach out and thank her as kindly as possible for showing me the face of God.
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