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.