Walking in the Dark

Holding onto patience wearing thin,
I can't force these eyes to see the end...
This time we're not giving up,
Let's make it last forever.
--Paramore, "Hallelujah"

I've come to an understanding that this summer is meant to be a period of stretching for me.

My grandmother, with whom I am very close, had a major health setback early in June that made me wonder how long she'll be with us. She's semi-recovered and back home now, but the two weeks cumulatively she's spent in the hospital has changed her somewhat, and put incredible strain on my family, especially my mother.

I've lost touch with my confessor since he left us, and for reasons I'd rather not get into here, I can't go see him. When things are as crazy as they have been lately, it's incredibly difficult knowing I can't just visit and talk things out.

And, of course, I'm leaving home in just over a month. I find that my emotions are oscillating wildly through this, and it's getting worse as August 30th comes closer. Sometimes I'm giddy with excitement at the new things I'll experience, people I'll meet, and how busy I'll be. Other days, my mom in the kitchen or my dad coming home after work makes me incredibly sad. It's a feeling of "I'm not going to hear this all the time now." Sure, I'm going to be home on the weekend more often than not, but it doesn't change that I'll soon be turning the only life I know upside down yet again--the first time being the day I came back to the Church. ;)

The certainty I once had about my life, my career, my vocation, and God's will has been taken away from me. I no longer know where I belong, or what to do next.

At first, I rebelled at this revelation with anger. Why now, when I'm about to make such a big change? Why now, when I've been so happy for the past three years? Why now, when I crave certainty and confidence more than ever before?

Perhaps I've answered my own question. "For power is made perfect in weakness," St. Paul says.

"You are my strength when I am weak."

"When we are weak, that is when He best shows His strength in us."

Perhaps God is using this transition to get under my skin, to shake me out of my comfortable complacency and reach instead my heart that so often has its own ideas how things should go. By taking away all of my grand possibilities, He has forced me to take my eyes off the splitting roads ahead of me and instead, focus them on Him.

So far, I've failed pretty miserably at that, but there is always time to try again. I may have no idea where I'm headed anymore, but He does. The trick now is to live by Scripture which says "Even when I walk through the dark valley, I will fear no evil."

My pastor asked me to focus on seeking the next step, rather than trying to plan out the entire course of my life today. That next step is perhaps the only thing I know is going right: my education. I need to set myself up for a career with which I can support myself, and if I can help it, use for God.

Right now, I really am walking through the dark. All I can do is take His hand and trust that He'll lead me wherever I'm supposed to be.

I'm Listening

Leaving this here, as one of my adopted priests asked me to reflect on it. If he ever reads this, thanks, Father B.!

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening. And if you will not speak, I will continue to listen.

Simple and Clean

"If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?'

. . . But seek first the kingdom (of God) and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil."

--St. Matthew 6:30-34 (NAB)

Today is the feast day of Maria Goretti, and so, in taking her as my patroness six years ago, it became my feast day, too. I'm not going to tell her story again, considering I did so last year. This year, I have something different to think about.

Lately, my central goal has been obedience. I still feel directionless in a lot of ways, and am struggling with a great deal of anxiety in trying to discern God's will for my life, especially where my vocation is concerned. I always thought that, when the time was right, God would give me a sign to let me know that I was going in the right direction and making the right choices. God has done that before, loudly, and I still feel that He'll do so again, if He wants to. Somehow, though, I don't think I'm going to be so lucky this time. As my pastor once said, it isn't free will if God is forcing us into doing things His way. I just wish I knew what His way was! My future is uncertain; I have desires, sure, at times very powerful ones, but I have no idea if following them is what I'm supposed to do. (Please, if you're reading this, take a second to pray for my clarity!)

A while back, I was considering where my life is headed, and where I'd like to see it go, when Maria came to mind. Everyone tends to look at her as the epitome of purity and chastity, and it seems that at times, Catholics value her more for the way that she died than the way that she lived.

St. Maria was a simple girl. (Yet another sign that she and I were meant to be partners.) She never concerned herself with worldly affairs, but rather spent her days praying, watching her siblings, and helping her family on the farm. That was her life, and really, you could see what it did for her faith. She, like many other young saints, begged to receive the Eucharist before she was considered old enough, and the day she did for the first time was the happiest in her life. There was nothing else going on to trouble her before Alessandro began his advances, and even if there was, it wouldn't have brought her down. Her focus was on Christ, not on this world. In every sense, she lived by what God told St. Paul as he begged for the Lord to take from him the thorn in his flesh: "My grace is suffiecient for you."

His grace was enough for Maria. She had need for nothing else. With that innocence and perfect embodiment of the childlike faith we're called to--and indeed, she was only a child--her life was for the most part a peaceful one.

That's what I should be doing this summer, as difficult as it may be for me: learning to be humbler, simpler, and more trusting that God is with me and will not abandon me. I need to believe with more confidence that as long as I try to seek His will with my whole heart, He'll lead me to it, whatever it is. Like Maria, I shouldn't worry about tomorrow, because it will take care of itself. I'm going to talk to my priests in the coming months--all three of them (my confessor can't even get rid of me by being reassigned, poor guy)--and I'm going to let go.

Fearful as I am, I'm going to surrender. I can't keep stumbling in the dark hoping to come out the right door. He needs to lead me. I can only hope that in following Maria's example, and relying on her prayers, I'll make the right decision, and have peace in my life as well.

St. Maria Goretti, my friend and ally, pray for me, that your innocence might be mine!

Happy feast day. :)

Promises from Scripture

"Why are you terrified? Have you no faith in Me?"
"Do not be afraid. Just have faith."

~*~*~

Why are you cast down, o my soul?
Why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God.
For I shall again praise Him, my salvation.

~*~*~

They cried to the LORD in their distress;
from their straits he rescued them,
He hushed the storm to a gentle breeze,
and the billows of the sea were stilled.

They rejoiced that they were calmed,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his kindness
and his wondrous deeds to the children of men.

More Thoughts on Change

This past week was Pentecost, and with its arrival came the end of the Easter season. It feels like the Vigil was only yesterday, but at the same time, the last fifty days have been a period of stretching for me.

Change is inevitable.

Last weekend, I curled up in my usual chair in my confessor's confessional, and after the usual teasing, said, "You're leaving, and I'm staying here. I don't know how to deal with that."

There was no confession involved in our very frank, semi-emotional conversation. All in all, I know it's not about him, that it never was to begin with. He said that he knew when I first came back two years ago that I was different, and needed to have my butt kicked in order to grow. Now, he said, I would learn to grow in other ways.

I must admit, though, that having an open invitation to visit whenever I need to has helped me immensely. I was also reminded that soon, I'll have two new priests in my life--our new deacon-turned-parochial vicar that will assume his position tomorrow morning, and my chaplain when I move to my university at the end of August.

On top of this optimistic thought, I've introduced myself on Facebook to the Newman club there, and have been pleasantly surprised by several friend requests, as well as an invitation to a women's retreat with them in late August. I'm not sure yet if I will be allowed to go, but knowing that I'm going to be getting to know other Catholics my age is such a huge boost for me. As one of my friends said recently, it's been a very lonely walk. Having people to fellowship with is so important. I'm hoping that I won't be disappointed. I don't think I will be.

Change is difficult. It's far from comfortable, and I know that all of this is going to be a test, both on my faith and on my maturity. If it's any consolation, it will serve as a fantastic opportunity to bring me closer to God, and learn to rely on Him more.

Maybe change can be a good thing.

You Will Never Leave Me

This is perfect. I remembered this prayer tonight as I thought of two friends of mine who have used it throughout their courtship. It fits so well with the uncertainly I find myself facing; I think I'll start praying this regularly.

Thomas Merton's Prayer

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think that I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this
you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always,
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Regime Change

My 100th post here comes in the middle of changes, some of them expected, and some of them that came by surprise.

My regular confessor and unofficial spiritual director is leaving my parish next month. It will be an extremely difficult adjustment for me to make, as this priest is both the one who heard my first confession upon reversion, and the first I allowed myself to be vulnerable before. The thought of losing that relationship and trust when I am still trying to reform myself is a bit frightening, honestly. I'm left to try to cultivate that relationship with someone else.

My pastor is a good man, and very wise, but in some ways I'm not sure if he and I are on the same page. He is very different from my confessor in both the way he advises me and what he sees as crucial issues in my formation. It will take some time to get used to, but I'm not going to close my mind and heart to him. I can't. We are also going to have the addition of a newly ordained priest who served his year in the diaconate at my parish here as parochial vicar beginning in two weeks. This all comes in the midst of a merger with a nearby parish that will be completed within the next two years or so, which will shake up not only who attends Mass, but who celebrates, and who gives the Sacraments.

~*~*~

In three months, I'm leaving home for the first time. After graduating with my Associate's Degree this past Thursday, I'm continuing on to a 4-year university to finish up my Bachelor's. I'm going to be living on campus, and as ready as I thought I was, I now find myself full of anxiousness and doubts. I won't have my family to come home to at night, and will have to make a new name for myself in a sea of 10,000 people.

That's weird.

It doesn't help that while I'm going through this upheaval, my church, always consistent and dependable, is changing, too.

The verse in the alleluia, and echoed in my current confessor's homily tonight was an almost prophetic reassurance for me:

I will not leave you as orphans.

Yes, things are changing, and I'm obviously being called to a greater sense of independence...but that doesn't mean that God is going to lead me out into the desert and then leave me there to fend for myself. "I will be with you always," we're told.

But what if I stumble?

That, too, is part of the learning process...I hope that I can accept this change in direction gracefully, and with humility. I can hope, and I can trust. That's what the Divine Mercy is all about, after all, being able to say "Jesus, I trust in You!" and believe it.

I do.

iPray!

I found these two videos tonight with help from The American Papist. What neat evangelism tools!

Run Back to You

This song by Run Kid Run, "My Sweet Escape", always reminds me of my reversion. Plus, it's pretty catchy!

So here we are, a video and lyrics.

This is it, confidence is all I need
This is how You're going to save me from myself
From all that fails
I see You and me and everything in between
And I know I'm wrong but You long to
Fuel the fire beneath these tired bones

As I dance this road back to run back to You
A place of sweet escape I fell into
My everything will always sing Your glory

Progress, I confess is way overdue
I get caught up in the things that I've held onto
For too long I've been alone
I'm stronger ever step I take

Back to You
Run back to You
A place of sweet escape I fell into

A familiar taste that You have made inside this refuge I can't create
All back to You
A place of sweet escape I fell into Your glory, Your glory
Sing Hallelujah, I'll forever sing to lift You up
Sing Hallelujah, I'll forever sing to lift You up
You are my King
You are my King

Two Years

It didn't escape me this last Tuesday that it's been two years already since my reversion. Liturgically it's the Third Sunday of Easter, but I like noting it on the day of. :) I was just too busy that day to blog, unfortunately. The last weeks of the semester do that to you.

In a lot of ways, it feels like yesterday, but in others, I feel like it's been forever. The memories of the weeks leading up to my return are still so fresh in my mind--I had literally become Job grappling with Israel. Having been a cradle Catholic, the hardest things to accept weren't the doctrines and dogmas of the Faith, as is the case most often with converts. Those things were what I had been catechized in, no matter how weakly. What turned me upside down was the morality that I would submit myself to following my Confession. Not only was I a sinner, but I liked it that way. As cheap as the highs I got from my favorite vices may have been, I had come to define myself by them over the years. To give them up would be like giving up my identity. I didn't know how to be holy. I knew that when I crossed the Tiber I would immediately be knocked on my face with the weight of my failures. The most vivid memory of all was on the night before my reversion, as I sat in the wee hours of the morning doing my examination of conscience. I wept bitterly all through it, not just for shame, but for pride and selfishness as well. The Church was uncompromisingly right, and I knew that, but it didn't change the fact that cleaving to her was going to hurt like hell.

I'm not going to lie; it really did. The weeks immediately following my reversion were at times as turbulent as even leaving the occult had been. I had removed myself from things that I really loved, and was thrust into this "new" place with its foreign morals. I felt utterly isolated. There was no one to guide me at that point, and no one with whom I could share my struggles. My other half was not yet Catholic then, but I knew he was searching, and it was for that reason that I often felt reluctant to confide in him. It would have been easier if I had reverted at another time, sure, but I hold firm to the belief that if you wait for when you're "ready", you'll never make the the move. I truly did enter into it completely broken.

Today, my parents have more or less come to grips with my decision, and my friends and I have adopted a fairly successful live and let live attitude. Every so often, I find myself at the center of some name calling, criticism, and even downright ad hominem attacks in the classroom just recently. Do I appreciate it? Definitely not. To say I've handled my trials with complete grace and peace of mind would be foolish. Still, I hang in there when it really matters, and let my guard down in the company of those that I love.

I didn't ask for any of this, but I remember that the same holds true for Christ. We're going to have to navigate some hurdles once and a while, and some of us are burdened with more than others. I'm still trying to figure out where I fit in that scale.

Above all, He is my peace, and the Church my home. Now that I'm here, no matter what consequences it brings me, what I've found here is priceless. Regardless of what comes my way, I now have the tools to deal with hard times...particularly the blessing of being able to meet Him face-to-face in the Eucharist, to pour myself out in weakness in order to be filled again with strength.

It's been a wild ride, but one that I wouldn't trade for anything. I knew it when I knelt to pray right after my reversion, when the weight of my sins was lifted off my shoulders and suddenly, my mind stopped reeling. For four years I had searched for peace in so many things, many of them sinful and shallow. It was only when I followed Christ to Calvary in complete and not just partial obedience that I was fulfilled. Someone told me once on the journey that "The Truth isn't going to be easy to swallow. It's not about what makes you feel good."

I understand what she meant now. It's difficult at first, but given time and effort, things do settle. And when they do, you'll never be left wanting.