Letting Him work

So much of the spiritual life of grace I have viewed as me grasping, trying, planning, leading, controlling. What can I do to make myself a saint?

Perhaps I've never been farther off the mark.

"He did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant."

This is about peaceful acceptance, knowing I am forever in the hand of an all-knowing, all-loving God Who is leading the dance. All I have to do is rest in His arms and allow Him to carry me. Not passively or slothfully, but trustingly. There is no need for me to "figure it out." What He chooses to reveal to me, how, and when is up to Him entirely. I am His instrument to play upon. I am not the Divine Musician.

The less I struggle in His arms like an impatient child, the more quickly He can teach and stretch me and the more deeply I will sink into His mercy and love.

O my Jesus, I accept everything You have given me because I know it comes from Your perfect love and because I desire to love You in return.

Living it out

For the past few years, I've found myself haunted by Matthew's Gospel story regarding the day of judgment, in which Jesus will separate the sheep from the goats according to how they lived on earth, as measured by the corporal works of mercy.

I've heard priests say that it should be so easy for us to get into heaven -- we already know all the questions on the final exam!  All we have to do is live them out.

And so I began to wonder, to contemplate…what if it's true? What if, when I die and stand before Jesus at the gate of heaven, He says to me:

"I was hungry and you gave Me no food, thirsty and you gave Me no drink."

"But I did, Jesus. I sent monthly checks to charities. I even gave up several years of my life for full-time mission work."

"How many times did you see a homeless man on the street and ignore him? You could have handed him food, or a little money, or even just a smile if you truly had nothing else to give. But you looked the other way.  That was Me.  Every time, it was Me."

………………………

What if, in the end, it's not just about the Ten Commandments?  What if it's not enough to have attended Sunday Masses and avoided stealing on a regular basis?  This week's Gospels have been the "Woe to you's" directed at the Pharisees.  How often am I a Pharisee, following the letter of the law, hung up on the intricacies of right vs. wrong but failing to love Jesus in every person I meet?

This is a chilling reality and a wake-up call for those of us who have grown too comfortable with our superficially Christian lives.

O my God, have mercy on me, a poor sinner!  My Jesus, teach me to love as You love.

What is reality?

I'm becoming increasingly more and more aware that it's not what we think it is. This reality here on earth, material, is so easily separated from the true reality of our homeland of heaven.

And that's what this summer has been -- a search for reality. What is truth? I've seen it, tasted it, felt it…but then after all of this I returned to a place and a life which I once knew, and now I know not.  I can't be this Severna Park girl, or even this Tilyou girl.  I belong not to this world.  I can't grasp the concept of identity found in money and status and success and achievements.  My identity is in Christ alone.  Seeking happiness among these worldly things confuses me. How?? Why??

At the pastoral council meeting last night, all were discussing how to make our parish more welcoming and evangelistic.  A beautiful desire.  But it hit me that we were missing the root, the foundation of it all. Unless each person involved is himself growing interiorly in a personal relationship with Jesus, the exterior works are meaningless. Are we falling more in love with Jesus Christ each day? Our apostolate of love will only reach the rest of the world if it is flowing out of our relationship with Him.

And why do we have excuses for not praying or not attending daily Mass? Recently I, too, have been tempted towards this. Can getting more sleep possibly be more important than receiving Him in the Eucharist?  If I am sleep-deprived, it is a lack of discipline on my part; my priorities are not yet properly ordered. Do we truly believe that we need Him - Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity - and nothing else on this earth?

And on a final note, my world is again being shaken, in a good way, by the words of Fr. Dubay. We, as individuals and as a society, have no real understanding of Christ's directives on poverty.  I can't quote the whole book or even a chapter, but Fr. speaks truth and, in so doing, convicts me in the very depths of my heart.

Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself." And He meant it in the most literal sense.  What gives me the right to eat a single meal and ignore the man who goes without?  St. Thomas More brought the poor into his home to eat at his table.  Why am I not doing the same every day?????

John the Baptist's words: "He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none."  How can I read that and still allow myself to own more than one coat, when I know full well there are people without clothing????????

We call friends and strangers alike our brothers and sisters in Christ.  If my blood sister found herself sick, hungry, or without a home, would I not do everything in my power to meet her every need? What a hypocrite I am for not treating every other human being the same!

I can't justify it anymore, this frivolous living.  Consider, we are told to give from our very need.  Let me be frank.  I have NEVER given out of my need, because I've NEVER had a need.  This is the end of my old life and the beginning of a new one.  I am ECSTATIC to begin truly striving to live as Christ has called us all to live.

My Jesus, have mercy on me, a poor sinner.  My Jesus, I trust in You!

Let me say it again...

I realize that the majority of my blog posts revolve around a single topic, which is evident even just by skimming through the titles.  So I began to ask myself why? Why does the subject of love seem to take top priority in my mind, second only to God Himself?

Because God is love.

Because it is this for which we were made, to love and be loved.  Or, to quote the Catechism: God made me to know Him, to love Him, to serve Him, and to be happy with Him in heaven.  It's as simple as that.

Why do men and women marry? Why are babies born? Why can a smile change the mood of your day? Why do people of all ages desire to give themselves away through service projects and mission trips and volunteer work?

Every answer is love.

Why have divorces, suicides, abortions, poverty, and countless other tragedies become a sad but common reality in our modern society?

Because of a real or perceived absence of love.

My head hurts, trying to wrap my mind around the universality and timelessness of it all.  My heart hurts, trying to grasp the notion that I can do so little, and yet everything I do is magnified and will echo throughout eternity if it is in union with the infinite love of Jesus Christ.  My hands and feet become restless with a holy impatience. Now is the time. We are called to serve.

Missionaries: we serve the world because we love. But let us always remember our place. We are never creators of love, but rather receivers who have now become reservoirs of love.

"We love, because He first loved us." -1 John 4:19

And over all things, love.

This summer, I forgot that God loved me.

Can't say exactly how it happened. Somewhere in uprooting from my mission home to prepare for a new mission field, in the moment when I was most vulnerable, I found myself lost in a whirlpool of fear. What if I'm an unforgiven sinner? What if I'm not good enough for this life or for heaven? What if, without the constant busyness of service, I have no worth and no purpose? 

And underneath it all, the deepest, cruelest lie that was hiding within the recesses of my heart: 

What if God didn't really love me?

What if?

The haunting emptiness, the darkness that I experienced was like nothing I'd ever known. A loneliness that surpassed all human expression.  I searched unremittingly for answers, for comfort, for reassurance and consolation, but I found none.

And then, the light of the sun shone forth as at the break of dawn: my Jesus had mercy on me. I am weak, I am broken, and because of this, He loves me. He loves me! HE LOVES ME!! I have no need of success, of personal merit -- I claim as my own the merits of His Cross.

The miracle of it all is that Jesus did not allow me to experience such great suffering merely to teach me a lesson for the summer of 2013.  No, He makes all things work together for my good. Memories flood back to me from my childhood, adolescence, and now young adult years -- me being unable to accept His love. Feeling unworthy, unclean. Trying to earn His love through my attempts at perfection. And it was never enough.

And how could it be?? Jesus chose not to shed just one drop of His most Precious Blood, but to spill it ALL, washing over the entirety of the earth, over my sins, over my soul, over all space and all time. It is HIS Blood that saves me, that purifies me, that catches me and draws me up to His Father and my Father in heaven.

I can't say what tomorrow will bring. If this summer has taught me anything, it's that God's ways are inscrutable and not my ways. But I do know that today, and tomorrow, and every day for the rest of eternity, I will be held in His love. And He will never let me go. And that is enough for me.

HE is enough for me.

Why did David dance?

"David and all the house of Israel danced before the Lord with all their might, with singing, and with lyres, harps, tambourines, sistrums, and cymbals." - 2 Sam. 6:5

We are a people of praise. This is not a title to be taken lightly.  Praise is firstly a duty out of justice, something owed to God because He is our Maker.  To give glory to His Name is one of the greatest gifts we can give Him!  But we, too, are blessed when we praise.  Our bodies and our very selves crave this type of worship because it reminds us on some deeper level of who we are -- our identity as children of the Father -- and our place in His creation.

Why did David dance before the Ark of the Covenant? Perhaps because a simple prayer spoken with head bowed and hands folded could not suffice to express the tidal wave of love that was bursting through the walls of his heart at that very moment!  Because the Spirit of the Lord was likely shaking his arms and legs, compelling him to stand and give glory to God with his whole body and soul!  I certainly am not criticizing fervent, contemplative, silent prayer - it, too, is a necessary part of worship - but I would gently question anyone who practices this type of prayer to the exclusion of the other, claiming that it better fits their personality or preferred style of worship. Are we embarrassed to raise our hands to our Father in Heaven because we wonder what others will think of us? Are we too prideful to sing out to our Lord Jesus Christ because our voices are not melodious or pleasing to the human ear?

We can only reach the crux of worship when we stop concentrating on what is "acceptable" according to our own personal and societal norms and instead fix our gaze solidly on the King of Heaven.  When prayer becomes an intimate conversation with Him, when we can gaze upon Him in the midst of the tumult that surrounds us and see only His beauty, feel only His presence, and hear only His words of love, then can we praise Him in true freedom of heart.

"It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praise to Your Name, Most High!" - Ps. 92:2

You ARE called (missionary memories, unpublished 12/2012)

Praise Him for converted hearts and souls made new!  Today I met up with a sophomore girl to help her begin fundraising for SEEK 2013, our FOCUS National Conference.  I first met Lindsey last year at one of our women's nights here at our apartment -- a just-for-fun fellowship event with crafts, snacks, and anything else that would appeal to our girly interests.  Lindsey was truly struggling through her first year of college and in need of real friends.  I offered a listening ear for a short time that evening but quickly forgot all about it.  Months later, after a choir concert, she tapped me on the shoulder and asked if we could get together sometime -- she had a few questions to ask me.  Well, I was quite embarrassed because I couldn't even remember who she was!  But like every skilled missionary, I played it off throughout our short conversation, afterwards hissing at my teammate, "Who WAS that girl??"

I invited Lindsey to lunch at my apartment and she spilled out her story -- growing up in a Catholic home, rebelling against the Faith because she felt "forced" into it, ultimately rediscovering God at a retreat which she attended begrudgingly at the insistence of her loving little brother.  Now she desired only to grow and learn more about Catholicism and this God she had so long denied.

Fast forward to this fall semester: a senior girl I disciple invited Lindsey to be a FOCUS student missionary, and so for the past month or so they have been meeting weekly in discipleship to discuss prayer, evangelization, and the challenges of living as a dynamic Catholic on a college campus.  Today Lindsey admitted to me that she's never been as happy as she is now; touching her hand to her heart, she explained that this is a lasting happiness, not just a fleeting feeling.  Beginning a daily prayer life has been somewhat difficult, but she bashfully explained to me that in a recent prayer period, after silencing her mind, she unexpectedly heard a voice telling her to love and not to condemn others.  She seemed almost shocked at this: was it God speaking to her, or merely her own voice in her head?  I assured her that the Lord does indeed speak with a still small voice, even a whisper.  She was surprised that she could have such an experience so early in her spiritual development, after only praying for a short while.  But I know better -- God works quickly when He is presented with a willing and humble heart.

Lindsey was also proud to tell me about her experience of barehanding "unintentionally."  She had a 45-minute conversation that began simply with her telling a fellow student about her father's large family...which led to the big family=Catholic connection...which, after finding out that he used to be Catholic as well, led her to ask him why he was no longer practicing the Faith.  So often we are turned off by the concept of evangelization, blaming either our own timidity, ignorance of theology, or distaste for the prospect of forcing our beliefs on others.  But true evangelization is nothing more than a conversation which, when spoken in truth and love, inevitably leads back to our God and our hope in Him.

You could say that Lindsey has no particular talent or charisma that would mark her as a student or a teacher of the Faith, and yet she is just one more proof that this duty to evangelize falls on the shoulders of each one of us, whether or not we consider missions our "day job." But first we must sit with Jesus in the classroom of silence, allowing Him to work in our own hearts and shape us into something new.  We must pray for many, many more to hear and answer the call to holiness and to live the life for which we were created.

Come, Lord Jesus, send us Your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth!

All my love

Counting down the days to the bitter end...or as my team director says, it's all over but the weeping.  Finals week is upon us, final coffee dates and lunches have been penciled in, departing conversations and letters and hugs and memories to be made.

Questions arise in my mind - did I do enough? did I say what needed to be said? did I love as I should have loved?  Names of girls I wanted to invest in and never had the chance to do so.  Seemingly "failed" relationships or attempts to spark a conversion.  The dreams of a missionary.

Daydreaming about the past two years, where I've been and how I've grown.  Dreams for the future, looking ahead at the long road in front of me.

Desires arise in my heart, not to be stifled but to bring to the foot of the cross. This too, my Jesus, I offer up to You.  Everything is Yours.

True love on Christmas Day

Throughout our spiritual lives, it seems there are moments when a little of the veil is lifted from our eyes and we suddenly see more clearly.  Sometimes I call them epiphanies, sometimes they come when I'm deep in prayer, but at other times they are more of an evolution, a slow unraveling of my own mistaken ideas and simultaneous materializing of God's truth.

What I have noticed over the years is that I can always go deeper -- that even when I believe I have finally reached a full understanding of love, or faith, or trust in God's promise, I have in fact only scratched the surface.  And thus you will find me months or years later once again proclaiming to have experienced an epiphany on this same subject.

In high school, I thought I knew how to "save myself" for marriage.  I understood only a physical sense of chastity, while my mind and emotions ran wild with diaphanous dreams of my perfect mate.

In college, I abandoned all feminine dignity and discretion (at least in the presence of my journal) and penned heartsick letters to the object(s) of my affections -- a case study in unrequited love.

Then I learned for the first time of emotional chastity, and my life was forever changed.  But 5+ years of damage to my heart and mind had yet to be undone.  I still pined after young men, and then pined over my poor heart which was no longer permitted to dwell on such matters.  The year of my dating fast, I tried desperately to embrace my temporary vocation to the single life of a missionary and to chase away all romantic daydreams and overly friendly thoughts of the opposite sex.  And it worked...to an extent.

Coming off the dating fast was another story.  The first few months were a torment for me.  I realized I had never had a "healthy relationship" with my feminine desires regarding my need to be loved, cared for, and understood.  During my fast, I learned the light switch approach -- when thoughts arise, turn them off immediately, no questions asked.  This was a temporary fix, but one that was no longer effective once my fast had ended and I had discerned my call to marriage.  If God desired for me to one day enter into holy matrimony, casting out all romantic notions of marriage would surely hinder any potential for a relationship that He had planned for me.

And somehow, in the midst of my confusion and distress, God revealed to me His love.  That which is greater than any poet could express or any songwriter could put to music.  That we even exist is proof of His love, but the truth of the Incarnation greatly surpasses all other gifts we have been given.  For God so loved the world...

If I have been so loved, if God has from the first moment of creation chosen me to be His daughter, His littlest missionary, how can I refuse?  And it is in this spirit that I no longer complain about my singlehood, sigh over lost loves and forgotten hearts, or glance with jealous eyes at the "perfect" lives of my young married friends.  I have been given the perfect life -- a life in Christ.  I have joy because I am following His will.  I have found fulfillment in Him alone.

I am honored that He has selected me from among many to serve Him in this capacity, to give of my life and my very self in order that others might come to know and love Him.  He has granted me the desires of my heart -- to be loved, cared for, understood.

How beautiful that the Church has chosen Isaiah 62 for the Christmas Eve reading:

"You shall be called by a new name which the mouth of the Lord will give.  You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called My delight is in her, and your land Married; for the Lord delights in you."

"What if the good God wants me?  I am His and His only.  The rest has no hold on me.  I can do without all the rest if I have Him."  ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

Surviving, Not Thriving: Part 1

It's hard to be an adult.  True, I'd take this life any day over that of a child.  I love the feeling of having grown, overcome obstacles, learned lessons.  But how dearly I long to be taken care of, cared for by another.

One of my mentees expressed it well when she said, "I just want to dependent again."  Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, she longs for the comfort of home, parents to care for her and siblings who know and love her for who she is, not what she can do.

I broke down this week.  There.  I said it.  Rebecca, the missionary girl who has all her ducks in a row, who needs Jesus and nothing else in this life, lost it completely on Tuesday at approximately 11:54am.  A month straight of work with no real weekend to speak of, failing to take care of myself physically and emotionally, and what do I have to show for it but a nasty cold compounded by sleep deprivation and a decaying tooth in need of a crown.  Nice one.  It's clear I can't even hold it together.

And it shows in my ministry, too.  Students asking me repeatedly if I'm okay, telling me I look awful, tired, or awfully tired.  Conversations no longer seem as fruitful as they once were.  I can tell interiorly because girls will be in the midst of telling me a story and I realize I've completely tuned them out, continuing to nod with that knowing expression that I can fake so well.  It scares me how proficient I am at this and how ignorant they are of what is or isn't going on inside my head.  My prayer life, too, has suffered on and off.  It's hard to pinpoint because on one hand I'm having to trust more in the Lord as I can feel my life hurtling downward, but at the same time I'm struggling to listen for His voice when I can't even keep my eyes open.

The moral of the story?  I'm still in the middle of it, trying to figure it all out, but I think it comes down to the fact that I am not God.  I. Am. Not. God.  I can save neither myself nor anyone else.  Praise Jesus for being my Savior, because I'm doing a lousy job of it on my own.

Well this turned out to be a more depressing post than I anticipated.  It sounds like volume one of a two- (or three, or four) part series.  I have so much left to work through, but not alone.  I've learned that at least, that I am powerless without Him.  So let it rain, Lord.  Open the floodgates of heaven!  Come into my heart today.  Pour Your Spirit into me, that I may LIVE.

Restless spirit

I'm missing a dear friend.  He's closer than a brother, he's hundreds of miles away, and I don't know when I'll next see him.  In fact, given his current vocational discernment, it's likely that he'll join a religious order in the next few years and move out of the country, postponing our next meeting until we get to heaven.

That's a terribly sad truth that I'm trying to grapple with as I simultaneously attempt to figure out my foggy future.  I believe this next year will be my last as a FOCUS missionary.  I love the apostolate and greatly appreciate all it has done for me, and hats off to all those "lifers" who intend to continue this as their permanent vocation.  It is not mine.  I am made for relationship, firstly with my Lord but also within the context of a family.  I can feel God preparing my heart for marriage and having children.  It is nearly impossible for me to be patient in this moment, when all I want to do is dive into that messy and beautiful life.

I struggle with trusting Him, but isn't our God wise?  He gives me no other option but to sink or swim.  I can either melt into a pit of anxiety, trying to control everything in my grasp, or I can allow Him to be the Master Architect of my future.

For the past few weeks, I've chosen the former, and I've been slowly but steadily sinking.  O Lord, give me the strength to choose to trust You.  Because I need to.  Because You have asked me to.

Jesus, I trust in YOU!!!

Back in Champaign

And it feels so good!

I've been experiencing a bout of desolation during these first few days of summer training (read: doubting EVERYTHING about my mission work, competency, and calling; feeling NO joy for this ministry).  I kept asking God why?  Why was He making me *suffer* through these months of service?  Why was I alone?  Why was I distressed and so far from everything I loved when everyone else seemed only too happy at the thought of beginning a second year on campus?

In an epic 2.5 hour stretch of prayer, I poured it all out to God, and He accepted it all without a word.  He was quiet, patient with me, letting me complain and cry and feel sorry for myself.  And then He explained why...

I am not a missionary for my own joy or personal gain, at least not in a literal sense.  I've had high points, low points, and everything in between.  But I'm not here for the job description as written.  Rather, it's what He writes between the lines that matters.

My time on the mission field is a spiritual journey of healing and growth.  As a flawed human, there are many virtues I fail to live out and wounds from my past that still haunt me.  He is God, of course, and could bring me to a state of perfection in a moment.  But He chooses instead to walk beside me, to allow me to grow slowly and painfully at times, to share in every joy and carry me through every trial.

In just one year of mission work, I have been healed in profound ways and have found my identity in Christ.  This is no small matter.  He has made ALL things work together for my good.

As with the paralytic, Jesus is more concerned with matters of the soul than with my physical, external self.  He healed the paralyzed man but only after forgiving his sins.  Our Lord wants to make me whole  in spirit, that I might know Him more fully, love Him and serve Him.  He is leading me on the path to sainthood, and any sufferings I may encounter along the way I now count as joys, for they are nothing compared to the goodness of heaven that is to come.

And so He asks me, "Are you willing to continue on this journey, to pick up your cross once again and follow Me?"  Yes, Lord, I will follow You.  Always.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever!

Divine appointments

I am certain He does this on purpose.  You can't convince me otherwise.  You can't tell me it was just coincidental that a secular Carmelite who prays for religious and young people's vocations just happened to be passing through Nashville, to attend morning Mass at St. Joseph's (at the advice of hotel staff), to see me after Mass and feel that she had to come over and ask how she could pray for me.

Or that the same morning, I would be falling more in love with Jesus, noting the Dominican sisters attending Mass with their students, and having anxiety about my discernment to pursue marriage rather than religious life.

The best part is, this is #2 in a series.  Two years ago, when I was more deeply enmeshed in vocational anxiety (and believed that the only way to pursue holiness and have a truly profound relationship with Jesus was to be a religious sister), I had my first encounter with a secular Carmelite.  Doors began opening before me.  I had no idea you could be married with a family and still be so radically alive in your Faith.

He has filled me with joy in every possible way.  I am in awe of His presence and His plan as it unfolds before me.  I am incomparably and undeservedly blessed.

Count it all as joy

It's hard to believe it was just over a year ago that I graduated from college and set off to Champaign to begin training as a new missionary.  I was scared.  Excited.  Tentative.  Eager to learn all that I could, to soak up knowledge and wisdom from the older, experienced missionaries.  I recall at my interview weekend being told that your first year will transform you.  No, all FOCUS missionaries are not saints, apologists, or evangelists from the cradle.  It's during that year of hardship, trials, and suffering that you learn trust and dependence on Jesus.  "Praise the Lord" isn't necessarily a catchphrase for all of us, at least not from the moment we step onto campus.  But in time you realize that all praise truly is due to Him and that nothing in this life would be possible without Him.

It's glorious to think about returning to Champaign this summer.  Everything about me has changed.  It will be so, so good to see friends again and to share stories of this past year -- how God has worked in our lives; how we have grown in His image.

The funny thing is how quickly the time goes.  Many potential missionaries worry about the two-year commitment.  My advice for them is simple: don't even consider it.  Yes, there were days that seemed to drag on forever, weeks when I felt like it was all I could do to keep pushing forward.  But all of a sudden, it is over, and I wouldn't take it back.  Not for a six-digit salary.  Not for a year of romance.  Not for anything.

"I am His and His only.  The rest has no hold on me.  I can do without all the rest if I have Him." ~Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Thirty pieces

Holy Week, the most anticipated week of the Church year, never disappoints.

I was cast out of my typical mediocre attitude by an understanding of our calling to the cross.  Jesus is asking us to join Him, to lift just a splinter of the wood that He carries for us.  In accepting this suffering, we are truly children of the Father, for God allowed His very Son to bear the suffering of us all.  I cannot conform myself to this age but rather must be transformed by the renewal of my mind.  As Fr. Andrew reminded us in his Holy Thursday homily, our society is about nonconformity, yet we are called to conform ourselves to Christ.  It is then that we become most truly ourselves.  And as St. Irenaeus declared, "The glory of God is man fully alive."

One small blessing from this week: As of Thursday, I had yet to make my Lenten almsgiving.  I knew I could write out a check for any sum of money and give it to a charity or to the parish, but somehow it wasn't meaningful to me. I realized that a greater personal sacrifice would be to give all the loose change I had been collecting over the past year, of which I was very proud.  I dumped it all out and counted it...thirty dollars and some cents.  Judas' thirty pieces of silver!  I am he.  I have betrayed and denied Jesus.  I have failed to trust in His infinite mercy and love.  O Lord, forgive me, your servant.  Bring me back to you!

Settling in

It's taken me seven months to reach the point where it would seem strange to leave.  Prior to this I dreamt of going home, jumping ship, returning to my life of ease and familiarity.  But this weekend I finally felt that, when I am called away from here (as will probably happen in a year's time), it will be difficult to say goodbye.  I understand that this is premature, but I think it is important to note that I am at last putting down roots (or, as any respectable South Dakotan would say, ruts) in a land that I once found foreign and distasteful.

Oh, prairie people.  I love you even if you are three years behind the times.  I love your vast knowledge of farming equipment, livestock handling, and crop maintenance.  I love that you are patient with my ignorance in these areas.  I love your innocence and the fact that you have no real concept of rush hour traffic, pickpockets, airport security, or the ocean.  I love that you are comfortable in your own skin and that you don't think twice when jamming out to country twang or riding your four-wheeler down the street.  Mostly, though, I love that you are fiercely loyal to your family and that, once you have found the pearl of great price, you desire more than anything to share it with those you love the most.

With the end nearly in sight

It’s been a heck of a year.

I’ve learned a heck of a lot.

Life experiences aren’t easily explained through written words.  There’s just no substitute for actually being present in moments of grace, of awareness, of growth.

I never knew how little I trust God, how often I fail to recognize His love, how weak and yet how prideful I am.

I didn’t realize how much I depend on certain comforts – food, home, attention from others – to carry me through difficult times.

I had no idea how attached I was to my ideals and desires for romantic love and partnership, or how much it would hurt to have those attachments stripped away.

I knew that I despised failure, but I didn’t expect to encounter it so frequently or to learn so much from facing it head-on.

In my mind, it doesn’t really matter what else was accomplished this year – I’ll leave that up to God.  But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this short time has changed me.  I have grown so much closer to becoming the person I want to be.  And that alone makes it all worthwhile.

Dating Fast

They never said it would be easy.  But then, not much is easy in the life of a Christian.

3. more. months.

A little lonely

It occurs to me that it would be nice for a change to be living back at home, in a community with the young adults with whom I spent my childhood, high school, and college years.  One of the nearly-graduated seniors informed me that an old friend of hers is in town for the day, that he is perhaps her closest "guy-friend," and for some reason this made me wistful for those friendships that I left behind when I moved cross-country.  I know they say that, in our technological age, miles don't matter, but the truth is that life often gets in the way of friendships, and keeping regular contact is nearly impossible when you have a separate life and apostolate that is unknown to those who used to know you best.

I am a missionary, this I accept.  I have given my life to God in a more radical way for these two years, to allow Him to use me in His vineyard.  The comforts of the familiar are not for me.

Still, it saddens me to think that my long-lasting relationships are few and far-between.  Of all those whom I have met, most I talk to only rarely if at all.  Some of my dearest friends from college are all but memories now, though merely six months have passed since we graduated together.  I am building many meaningful friendships here in the midwest, but I am hesitant to put down roots because I know that in 16 months I will likely be moving away from this place.

A little nomadic.  A little lonely.

What I have learned (unpublished 11/11)

In 24 hours I will be on my way home.  Thanksgiving break came so quickly, and while I know I should be bursting with excitement to return to Maryland, there's something elusive that's holding me here.  I have settled into my new life: as a missionary, in South Dakota, among these crazy wonderful people who know more of sheep shearing than city living.

I have learned that love is not a "one size fits all."  That just as our Lord loves us particularly, we are also called to love others in a particular manner.

Proverbs 3:5-6 could not be more true.  Jesus will always take care of His littlest ones.