" One by one, I got in the face of each child, saying, 'You can do it! You don't have time for fear. You don't want to regret that you didn't do this!' And one by one, they took their journey across the gorge.
And then, they were all gone. And I was by myself.
Crap on a spatula.
I realized I had to do it."
From The End of Molasses Classes by Ron Clark.
Crap on a spatula. I'm going to start saying that.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Come to the Feast of Heaven and Earth
Do you know the song "Table of Plenty?" If so, the title of this post probably has you singing it in your head.
This was the communion song at the mass I attended yesterday. You know what I realized?
Sometimes the Table of Plenty looks a lot like a tomb, with a stone blocking the entrance, and guards standing just outside.
When I think of the cross, I think of Jesus suffering there. In my mind and prayers, He is always dying - not dead. In my prayer, when I meditate on His dying, He is dead on the cross for only an instant. Then His side is pierced, and He is taken down into His mother's arms.
Don't you think that in the moment when Christ died, for those who loved Him standing there, the world stopped? Don't you think that moment was frozen in their hearts in a way that seemed beyond the normal rhythm of time?
And as Mary held him dearly in her arms, I'd imagine it was one of those tunnel moments - a moment when all of the surrounding life and movement goes unseen.
Jesus Christ died.
He was laid to rest in a tomb. A stone was rolled in front. Guards stood in the eerie silence and finality of the moment.
And the people walked away.
Have you ever noticed that the Bible doesn't tell us stories of His followers holding vigil as they waited outside the tomb for the Resurrection? Rather, they allowed His death to reign in their hearts. They accepted. Any hint of anticipation of His rising was not outwardly expressed in the actions taken in their lives.
Maybe it was alive - somewhere - in the depths of their hearts.
Regardless, for 3 days the Table of Plenty - the altar of our Lord, the life-giving eternal flow of mercy, grace, and love- manifested itself on earth as the still and silent tomb of death.
So often, I rush to the Resurrection. He died, yes. But He rose. And so we have been given the great gift of living as an Easter people. We can live and move and delight daily in the glory and power of Christ's rising.
But perhaps we should remember the tomb. Because it is in that tomb that God works undetected by us. It is in that tomb that He descends into hell, defeating death once and for all, claiming the victory that has been and always will be eternally His.
Sometimes in our lives, our relationship with God looks a lot like it probably did for His apostles during those three days. He is working in ways we cannot see. And somewhere perhaps, in the depths of our hearts, we know, somehow, that even if we do choose to sit, hidden from the guards, in the stillness of the garden where we see that stone, that the death matters.
And somehow, in the stillness and heartache of those days, we find peace. We know - and commit our lives to everything that this belief means - that the table of the Lord is always a Table of Plenty, even before the stone is rolled away.
This was the communion song at the mass I attended yesterday. You know what I realized?
Sometimes the Table of Plenty looks a lot like a tomb, with a stone blocking the entrance, and guards standing just outside.
When I think of the cross, I think of Jesus suffering there. In my mind and prayers, He is always dying - not dead. In my prayer, when I meditate on His dying, He is dead on the cross for only an instant. Then His side is pierced, and He is taken down into His mother's arms.
Don't you think that in the moment when Christ died, for those who loved Him standing there, the world stopped? Don't you think that moment was frozen in their hearts in a way that seemed beyond the normal rhythm of time?
And as Mary held him dearly in her arms, I'd imagine it was one of those tunnel moments - a moment when all of the surrounding life and movement goes unseen.
Jesus Christ died.
He was laid to rest in a tomb. A stone was rolled in front. Guards stood in the eerie silence and finality of the moment.
And the people walked away.
Have you ever noticed that the Bible doesn't tell us stories of His followers holding vigil as they waited outside the tomb for the Resurrection? Rather, they allowed His death to reign in their hearts. They accepted. Any hint of anticipation of His rising was not outwardly expressed in the actions taken in their lives.
Maybe it was alive - somewhere - in the depths of their hearts.
Regardless, for 3 days the Table of Plenty - the altar of our Lord, the life-giving eternal flow of mercy, grace, and love- manifested itself on earth as the still and silent tomb of death.
So often, I rush to the Resurrection. He died, yes. But He rose. And so we have been given the great gift of living as an Easter people. We can live and move and delight daily in the glory and power of Christ's rising.
But perhaps we should remember the tomb. Because it is in that tomb that God works undetected by us. It is in that tomb that He descends into hell, defeating death once and for all, claiming the victory that has been and always will be eternally His.
Sometimes in our lives, our relationship with God looks a lot like it probably did for His apostles during those three days. He is working in ways we cannot see. And somewhere perhaps, in the depths of our hearts, we know, somehow, that even if we do choose to sit, hidden from the guards, in the stillness of the garden where we see that stone, that the death matters.
And somehow, in the stillness and heartache of those days, we find peace. We know - and commit our lives to everything that this belief means - that the table of the Lord is always a Table of Plenty, even before the stone is rolled away.
Monday, August 29, 2011
A List
Here are some things I haven't blogged about for good reason (some of them) but that I don't feel right blogging more without mentioning.
- I dated. For awhile. That ended. The biggest thing I learned is that most of my "dealing with break up tips" come from Gilmore Girls, which paints a fairly decent picture of the reality of things. (Note: that is not actually the biggest thing I've learned, but it is true and funny...and definitely far less painful to write about than the other big stuff.)
- My heart lies in ministry. I absolutely love it. Teaching doesn't really seem to be the realization of my hopes for ministry. I'm using this year for some hardcore discernment in this area. I want to go where God calls, not because I feel comfortable there, but because He asks me to go.
- Suffering is very real. And The Velveteen Rabbit describes it well.
-I'm going to learn how to sew. My sewing books come tomorrow. The machine comes on Wednesday. The fabric will come sometime after that. I want to own an apron that I made all by myself. That means I must learn to sew.
-I watched Anchorman for the first time. Well...I graded papers during Anchorman. Why, you may be wondering, would I watch a movie such as that? I'm not exactly sure. However, a question I've had since High School graduation was answered. The Valedictorian ended her speech by saying, "Stay classy class of 2006." I always wondered what that was a reference to. I should have known it came from one of the most quoted movies of all time (Title of Honor given by me - so it's legit.).
- I've been talking to people on catholicmatch.com. Why? Honestly, most of the time I'm not sure myself. However, two of them seem like nice guys. One of the two has a family farm...with no chickens. Really? What's the point of a farm if you leave out the chickens? The other has this listed in his favorite actors section on his profile: "...Mel Gibson, Kirk Cameron, Robert Duvall..." Okay, I have a problem with Kirk Cameron making list. I mean sure, he does wholesome Christian films now, but to call him a favorite actor? Have you seen Fireproof? BUT, under normal circumstances I would let that slide. HOWEVER, to put him in between the likes of Mel Gibson and Robert Duvall...Really? Those are AWARD WINNING actors who ...you know...have talent... (Wow, I'm not usually that mean on this blog.) Anyway. As I said, they seem like nice guys.
- I'm reading Augustine's Confessions. Finally. It's really enjoyable, and not a difficult read at all. If you're my Facebook friend, you probably could have guessed that I've been reading it - lots of good quotes there!
- I've really missed writing here. My heart is rather heavy right now. I'm making some big changes, and (in the right mood) I can paint a fairly dismal picture of my life. I just need time. And prayers. Soon, I will write about joy.
- I dated. For awhile. That ended. The biggest thing I learned is that most of my "dealing with break up tips" come from Gilmore Girls, which paints a fairly decent picture of the reality of things. (Note: that is not actually the biggest thing I've learned, but it is true and funny...and definitely far less painful to write about than the other big stuff.)
- My heart lies in ministry. I absolutely love it. Teaching doesn't really seem to be the realization of my hopes for ministry. I'm using this year for some hardcore discernment in this area. I want to go where God calls, not because I feel comfortable there, but because He asks me to go.
- Suffering is very real. And The Velveteen Rabbit describes it well.
- Speaking of suffering, have I ever shared with you my all-time favorite quote on the topic? Peter Kreeft said, "Perhaps the reason we are sharing in a suffering we do not understand is because we are the objects of a love we do not understand." God's love is FAR beyond our understanding. The "real" that He wants us to become is not a "real" we can comprehend. Suffering makes us real.
'Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.’‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand’
-I'm going to learn how to sew. My sewing books come tomorrow. The machine comes on Wednesday. The fabric will come sometime after that. I want to own an apron that I made all by myself. That means I must learn to sew.
-I watched Anchorman for the first time. Well...I graded papers during Anchorman. Why, you may be wondering, would I watch a movie such as that? I'm not exactly sure. However, a question I've had since High School graduation was answered. The Valedictorian ended her speech by saying, "Stay classy class of 2006." I always wondered what that was a reference to. I should have known it came from one of the most quoted movies of all time (Title of Honor given by me - so it's legit.).
- I've been talking to people on catholicmatch.com. Why? Honestly, most of the time I'm not sure myself. However, two of them seem like nice guys. One of the two has a family farm...with no chickens. Really? What's the point of a farm if you leave out the chickens? The other has this listed in his favorite actors section on his profile: "...Mel Gibson, Kirk Cameron, Robert Duvall..." Okay, I have a problem with Kirk Cameron making list. I mean sure, he does wholesome Christian films now, but to call him a favorite actor? Have you seen Fireproof? BUT, under normal circumstances I would let that slide. HOWEVER, to put him in between the likes of Mel Gibson and Robert Duvall...Really? Those are AWARD WINNING actors who ...you know...have talent... (Wow, I'm not usually that mean on this blog.) Anyway. As I said, they seem like nice guys.
- I'm reading Augustine's Confessions. Finally. It's really enjoyable, and not a difficult read at all. If you're my Facebook friend, you probably could have guessed that I've been reading it - lots of good quotes there!
- I've really missed writing here. My heart is rather heavy right now. I'm making some big changes, and (in the right mood) I can paint a fairly dismal picture of my life. I just need time. And prayers. Soon, I will write about joy.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Eucharist Question
Today in religion class we were talking about receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. After some curiosity about how it all tastes, one student asked, "Is it a dry wine?" Gotta love 2nd graders!
Friday, August 19, 2011
Not Now
There is a blog post coming. I just know there is.
But it isn't here. Yet. Not now.
I kind of hate not updating here. I'm approaching a point where I think I'll be able to begin to express some of the work God has been/is doing.
It will come.
Just not now...
So sorry!
But it isn't here. Yet. Not now.
I kind of hate not updating here. I'm approaching a point where I think I'll be able to begin to express some of the work God has been/is doing.
It will come.
Just not now...
So sorry!
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sts. Joachim and Anne
This past weekend I volunteered at the Steubenville St. Louis Mid-America conference. I attended the conference the previous weekend with teens from the youth group.
Saturday was the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. In talking with others who attended the conference, Mary's presence seemed almost tangible. There were moments when it seemed like I couldn't get the Hail Marys out quickly enough. Her intercession was felt in many ways.
Today we are a novena away from the Feast of Sts. Joachim and Anne. Mary's parents. While what we know about Joachim and Anne comes to us from small "t" tradition and legend, many Catholics have a strong devotion.
This article does a good job summing up the truth of the matter. I also spent some time reading about both Saints on newadvent.org.
I'm excited to start a time of prayer asking for the intercession of these saints. I've never been devoted to them before, but there has always been a hint of vague curiosity within me regarding the parents of the Blessed Virgin. There has always been a sweetness that comes with the sound of their names. So this year, I plan to embrace their intercession on my behalf.
I recommend that you visit Elizabeth's blog for a story or two of personal devotion. She includes a downloadable file of St. Anne prayers. I'm planning on using the "Prayer to Obtain Some Special Favor" as a novena-type prayer until the feast day.
Please consider whether this devotion will be an asset to your personal prayers over the next 9 days.
Saturday was the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. In talking with others who attended the conference, Mary's presence seemed almost tangible. There were moments when it seemed like I couldn't get the Hail Marys out quickly enough. Her intercession was felt in many ways.
Today we are a novena away from the Feast of Sts. Joachim and Anne. Mary's parents. While what we know about Joachim and Anne comes to us from small "t" tradition and legend, many Catholics have a strong devotion.
This article does a good job summing up the truth of the matter. I also spent some time reading about both Saints on newadvent.org.
I'm excited to start a time of prayer asking for the intercession of these saints. I've never been devoted to them before, but there has always been a hint of vague curiosity within me regarding the parents of the Blessed Virgin. There has always been a sweetness that comes with the sound of their names. So this year, I plan to embrace their intercession on my behalf.
I recommend that you visit Elizabeth's blog for a story or two of personal devotion. She includes a downloadable file of St. Anne prayers. I'm planning on using the "Prayer to Obtain Some Special Favor" as a novena-type prayer until the feast day.
Please consider whether this devotion will be an asset to your personal prayers over the next 9 days.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
These are the Times
I have not blogged in a very, very long time. I didn't blog at all in the month of June. I'm not sure I've ever skipped an entire month before; I'll have to check the archives.
It is hard to blog confusion. And my life has been largely dominated by confusion.
Here are some things I've learned:
1.) Sometimes even the best commitments to prayer don't bring forth clear answers. These are the times when we have to learn to trust God more. These are the times when we have to learn to accept that grace is a constant that is working even when it is mostly undetectable to us.
2.) Sometimes God asks us to do things (or keep doing things) that in many ways we'd rather not do. These are the times when we have to seriously ask ourselves whether this life is about us or Him. These are the times when we have to hold on and give more - even when our hearts (and minds and emotions) have had enough.
3.) Sometimes God doesn't give us relief from our suffering. These are the times when we have to find a way to accept and understand that His ways are perfect. Faultless. And no matter how obvious it may be to us that something else would be simpler - would be better, these are the times when we cannot listen to that lie. His ways are best.
4.) Sometimes our heads hurt to the point of explosion trying to makes sense of things. Sometimes our hearts break, crumble to tiny pieces, and fall trying to figure out how best to love. These are the times when we have to realize that God loves us. His love is enough. His love is constant. His love great. His love is powerful. These are the times when -despite all the struggle, fear, pain, desire for more ... despite the endless journey - we have to know, in the depths of our hearts, with all of who we are, that God's love is so. much. bigger.
Lessons in trust and patience do not come easily. However, these are the times when we must pray for the virtue of hope. We have to hope that joy and peace are coming.
In God's time.
It is hard to blog confusion. And my life has been largely dominated by confusion.
Here are some things I've learned:
1.) Sometimes even the best commitments to prayer don't bring forth clear answers. These are the times when we have to learn to trust God more. These are the times when we have to learn to accept that grace is a constant that is working even when it is mostly undetectable to us.
2.) Sometimes God asks us to do things (or keep doing things) that in many ways we'd rather not do. These are the times when we have to seriously ask ourselves whether this life is about us or Him. These are the times when we have to hold on and give more - even when our hearts (and minds and emotions) have had enough.
3.) Sometimes God doesn't give us relief from our suffering. These are the times when we have to find a way to accept and understand that His ways are perfect. Faultless. And no matter how obvious it may be to us that something else would be simpler - would be better, these are the times when we cannot listen to that lie. His ways are best.
4.) Sometimes our heads hurt to the point of explosion trying to makes sense of things. Sometimes our hearts break, crumble to tiny pieces, and fall trying to figure out how best to love. These are the times when we have to realize that God loves us. His love is enough. His love is constant. His love great. His love is powerful. These are the times when -despite all the struggle, fear, pain, desire for more ... despite the endless journey - we have to know, in the depths of our hearts, with all of who we are, that God's love is so. much. bigger.
Lessons in trust and patience do not come easily. However, these are the times when we must pray for the virtue of hope. We have to hope that joy and peace are coming.
In God's time.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Hard Parts
I once saw (okay, I think I actually trice saw...but that isn't important) a Rob Bell video called "Shells." I only have vague memories of how it specifically went, but I remember the jist (okay, a friend reminded me of the jist earlier today...but that isn't important either). It went something like this...
A boy is walking along the beach collecting shells. He is happy and enjoys what he has found, but they are nothing magnificent. None of the shells are big and many are merely broken fragments. Suddenly, he sees it. A full and beautiful shell floating out in the ocean. His father encourages him to go get it. He tries to get out to it, but keeps stopping short and returning to the shore. With more encouragement, he makes it out to the shell, but he doesn't grab it. He comes back to the shore and his father who asks what happened. The boy explained that he couldn't get the full and beautiful shell. The father asked why, and the boy responded, "My hands are full of shells."
How often is this us? We cling so tightly to the things around us that we can't grasp the better things God has for us. We are unwilling to let go of the comfort of the life we've created and grown accustomed to.
I've realized in the past few days I don't really and truly surrender. When I trust and hope in a future that God has planned for me, I always focus on some possible way that it will work out. I surrender to a possibility - one that might make me slightly uncomfortable, but with which I am ultimately okay.
I don't surrender to an unknown. I don't surrender to a future full of hope and happiness that I cannot imagine for myself. I surrender only insofar as I can understand.
That isn't real surrender.
Real surrender embraces the darkness. Real surrender trusts the God whose plans I cannot see and desires those plans in my life. No. Matter. What.
That's the hard part: joyful surrender to what appears to be a dark abyss, while trusting and hoping and delighting in God's promise.
After all, if my hands are full of my own comforting visions, how will ever grasp what is actually better?
A boy is walking along the beach collecting shells. He is happy and enjoys what he has found, but they are nothing magnificent. None of the shells are big and many are merely broken fragments. Suddenly, he sees it. A full and beautiful shell floating out in the ocean. His father encourages him to go get it. He tries to get out to it, but keeps stopping short and returning to the shore. With more encouragement, he makes it out to the shell, but he doesn't grab it. He comes back to the shore and his father who asks what happened. The boy explained that he couldn't get the full and beautiful shell. The father asked why, and the boy responded, "My hands are full of shells."
How often is this us? We cling so tightly to the things around us that we can't grasp the better things God has for us. We are unwilling to let go of the comfort of the life we've created and grown accustomed to.
I've realized in the past few days I don't really and truly surrender. When I trust and hope in a future that God has planned for me, I always focus on some possible way that it will work out. I surrender to a possibility - one that might make me slightly uncomfortable, but with which I am ultimately okay.
I don't surrender to an unknown. I don't surrender to a future full of hope and happiness that I cannot imagine for myself. I surrender only insofar as I can understand.
That isn't real surrender.
Real surrender embraces the darkness. Real surrender trusts the God whose plans I cannot see and desires those plans in my life. No. Matter. What.
That's the hard part: joyful surrender to what appears to be a dark abyss, while trusting and hoping and delighting in God's promise.
After all, if my hands are full of my own comforting visions, how will ever grasp what is actually better?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Daybook: Quite an Interesting Day
FOR TODAY
(May 16, 2011)
Outside my window... After a week of very warm weather (notice I refrained from calling it "hot.") the past few days have been quite chilly. I'm laying in bed, but it is not fully dark yet. I'm hoping for a restful night's sleep.
I am thinking... that the movement of time is a blessing in that it is constant. If it slowed down for all of the things I wanted it to I'd probably never learn to be grateful for time well spend. If it sped up through everything I wanted it to, I'd probably never learn to understand - even when it's hard to understand.
I am thankful for... a wonderful friend who is home for LONGER THAN JUST THE SUMMER!!!
I am wearing... PJs! I'm already in bed, remember?
I am creating... a brand new place for God in my heart.
I am going... to trust when it's hard, love when I don't want to, and fully surrender no matter what...for the rest of my life. Really.
I am reading... I'm not actually reading anything. Although I have still been somewhat consistently praying through In Conversation with God. (which I highly recommend)
I am hoping... that I love God more tomorrow than I do today.
I am hearing... the fan blowing and my fingers typing
Around the classroom... less than 2 weeks left. Wow.
One of my favorite things... moving water.
Visit Peggy for more daybook entries!
(May 16, 2011)
Outside my window... After a week of very warm weather (notice I refrained from calling it "hot.") the past few days have been quite chilly. I'm laying in bed, but it is not fully dark yet. I'm hoping for a restful night's sleep.
I am thinking... that the movement of time is a blessing in that it is constant. If it slowed down for all of the things I wanted it to I'd probably never learn to be grateful for time well spend. If it sped up through everything I wanted it to, I'd probably never learn to understand - even when it's hard to understand.
I am thankful for... a wonderful friend who is home for LONGER THAN JUST THE SUMMER!!!
I am wearing... PJs! I'm already in bed, remember?
I am creating... a brand new place for God in my heart.
I am going... to trust when it's hard, love when I don't want to, and fully surrender no matter what...for the rest of my life. Really.
I am reading... I'm not actually reading anything. Although I have still been somewhat consistently praying through In Conversation with God. (which I highly recommend)
I am hoping... that I love God more tomorrow than I do today.
I am hearing... the fan blowing and my fingers typing
Around the classroom... less than 2 weeks left. Wow.
One of my favorite things... moving water.
Visit Peggy for more daybook entries!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The 4th Joyful Mystery: The Presentation
I have said many times (and still claim it as true) that the 2nd Joyful Mystery - The Visitation - is my favorite of all the Rosary's mysteries. However, today it was the 4th that brought the most fruitful meditation.
There is a lot going on this mystery. There are many characters: Joseph, Mary, the infant Jesus, Simeon, and Anna.
Simeon has been waiting to meet the Messiah. He has been told that he will not die without meeting the Messiah. He bears with him the weight of that gift: constant searching, patient waiting, deep trust. As he and Anna are blessed to meet the Son of their Lord, Simeon's words call to attention the suffering that Mary will endure.
There is a lot of weight in this moment.
What Mary and Joseph have to present is the Christ Child. Jesus Himself: recently born of Mary. He is God, and He is a real and tangible symbol of what Mary and Joseph have chosen to make of their lives. He is (among many things) the fruit of their surrender.
There is a lot of weight in what they present.
What they are presenting is worthy of the moment. What they brought to God in the temple that day was something worth a joyful presentation. It was a great and powerful fulfillment of Simeon's long waiting. It was something so clearly right and good that it could withstand the sorrow of Simeon's words to Mary - that her own heart would be pierced.
This is what we need in our lives. Something worthy to present to God. Notice how the surrender of Mary and Joseph led to the gift of a worthy presentation.
When we surrender our lives, when we work to let God build our offering to Him with His own hands, that's when we can present to Him joyfully. That's when we become the instruments through which He fills the longing of man. That's when we are able to withstand the sorrowful message the world often brings.
Lord Jesus, create in me a worthy presentation for You.
There is a lot going on this mystery. There are many characters: Joseph, Mary, the infant Jesus, Simeon, and Anna.
Simeon has been waiting to meet the Messiah. He has been told that he will not die without meeting the Messiah. He bears with him the weight of that gift: constant searching, patient waiting, deep trust. As he and Anna are blessed to meet the Son of their Lord, Simeon's words call to attention the suffering that Mary will endure.
There is a lot of weight in this moment.
What Mary and Joseph have to present is the Christ Child. Jesus Himself: recently born of Mary. He is God, and He is a real and tangible symbol of what Mary and Joseph have chosen to make of their lives. He is (among many things) the fruit of their surrender.
There is a lot of weight in what they present.
What they are presenting is worthy of the moment. What they brought to God in the temple that day was something worth a joyful presentation. It was a great and powerful fulfillment of Simeon's long waiting. It was something so clearly right and good that it could withstand the sorrow of Simeon's words to Mary - that her own heart would be pierced.
This is what we need in our lives. Something worthy to present to God. Notice how the surrender of Mary and Joseph led to the gift of a worthy presentation.
When we surrender our lives, when we work to let God build our offering to Him with His own hands, that's when we can present to Him joyfully. That's when we become the instruments through which He fills the longing of man. That's when we are able to withstand the sorrowful message the world often brings.
Lord Jesus, create in me a worthy presentation for You.
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