This is an imperfect post.

As part of my Lenten promise this year, I decided to spend time each day in prayer. Yeah, that's not so original, nor special (though I could do with a little more consistency in my prayer life...). Last year, I spent Lent getting comfortable with silence. Our world is a noisy one and being alone with my thoughts can be, well... scary. This year I wanted to be more aware of God in my everyday stuff, more accutely intuned to the whispers of God in my heart. I can't even really explain what it is that I'm hoping will be the result, but I spend time each day in prayer with my sketchbook. I really love art and I'd like to be better at it. There's something tremendously attractive to me about art as prayer -- I've even bought books on it. But I hesitate to actually do it. And I hesitated to share this part of my Lenten practice.

Because I'm afraid I don't "do it right." I'm get so caught up in my lack of ability that I paralyze myself from even trying it.

A few years ago, I got a book called "Wreck This Journal" for Christmas. The whole concept is "To create is to destroy." Basically, the creative process is messy. (Check out Keri Smith's other books and fun ideas at www.kerismith.com) Conceptually, I loved it. I asked for the book and I was so excited to get it. But I've never done anything with it, because I was afraid it wouldn't be good enough.

I WAS AFRAID I WOULDN'T DESTROY SOMETHING CORRECTLY!

Who thinks that?!

Obviously, however I wreck the journal will be fine. I was so caught up in my own expectations that I failed to enjoy the process. I failed to even start the process. (The truly ironic part? I've spent years telling people to just start writing. Don't get caught up composing the perfect text; put something on the paper, so you can figure out what needs improved and work with it.Physician, heal thyself...)

I recognize, though, that there is a lesson in all of this. I can't quite articulate it just yet. "God doesn't ask us to be successful, just faithful"works here, but I think there's more to it than that. Something along the lines of how my own expectations can prevent me from seeing God or cooperating with God's grace. It sparks in my heart a longing for a deeper meaning, a better understanding, a greater turning of my imperfect art-prayer-self to my God who creates everything anew, even as I delight in the process of creating.

Only a few days into Lent, the process has already brought about some surprising results, including the previous post. (And who knew you could get drawing lessons by iMessage?) I'm not sure where this will take me, but I'm looking forward to the process.

Lent is a season of purification and enlightenment. Sometimes, that isn't perfect and it gets messy. And that's ok.

(As always, the views expressed here are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer.)

Drawing Lessons.

drawing lesson by iMessage + Lenten commitment to prayer = seeing the Light better

Times they are a-changin'... and changin' and changin'

I'm a millennial. Technically, by my birth year, I'd be the tail end of the Gen Xers, but, characteristically, I'm thoroughly, sometimes painfully, a Millennial. I've read a lot about millennials recently, especially about the emerging adults. It is simulateously disturbing and relieving to be so... typical? In the past ten years, I:

• dreamed of living in Ireland for a year, only to never go


• graduated from college


• got married, divorced (and annulled, for anyone who's keeping track) and married again


• lived at twelve different addresses in four different states


• had six different jobs. Just counting the post-college jobs, not including short-term, contracted or consulting positions


• started grad school. Twice. (And will finish. Once. This year.)


• drove thousands of miles on spur of the moment road trips, wrote hundreds of thousands words, drank too much coffee to even imagine

But I've had the same phone number.

Change is constant. In general, it doesn't bother me. It's not always easy, but I generally can roll with the punches. In fact, I'm so used to change that I've come to expect it.

What I've come to realize this Lent is that I get bored easily. Very easily. I barely begin new adventures before I start to wonder, "What's next?" Hell, I write blog posts and before they're edited, I've moved on to the next one, the next idea, the next...

My brain floods with ideas at times, faster than I can even comprehend them. I get excited, the ideas rush out of my brain faster than my mouth or fingers can move to communicate them to someone else... and I've completely overwhelmed people, just trying to get enough out of my head that I can focus! I'm naturally curious, I like learning new things and experiencing new places, and I'm highly inclined to flights of fancy... but there's something to be said about discipline. It's tremendously difficult for me to just. be. still. And it's not just because I need to switch to decaf... This is the new adventure. To be still. To slow down long enough to look around. To be patient, with myself and others. To be satisfied. So far, it's not been easy. Next? The views expressed in this blog are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employer.

45 Days.

Well...more or less, depending on how you count the days.

In 45 days, I'll turn 30. It doesn't bother me.

In fact, I'm more bothered by a) the fact that my birthday falls on a Friday NOT during Lent and I can't think of any special way I'd like to celebrate it and b) people asking me if I'm freaked out by turning 30.

*shrug*

The other thing that is bothering me is The List. On my 25th birthday, I started The List: 25 Things I Think I Know. It was a wild year for me and it was a feeble attempt to take stock of what I had to show for my 25 years of taking up space and using oxygen. When I turned 27, I actually shared the list -- that's the only one I've ever shared. At age 29, I quit at 17 things and never finished. (The list, by the way, is new each year. I don't just smack another item onto the end. Those are the rules.)

I thought about just letting it go, but... I actually kind of like it.

After 30 years, what do I know? Stay tuned...

Here's the list from year 27, if you missed it the first time.
27 Things I Think I Know

1. For better or for worse, life goes on.
2. Even when I can think there is no end in sight, God sees the big picture.
3. There’s nothing quite like the ocean for reminding me that this world is much bigger than me.
4. Amazing moments of ministry can happen over chocolate martinis. (Strawberry hookah is optional. )
5. The more you love, the more you hurt.
6. There is no such thing as a simple trip to the BMV.
7. Some friends are in your life for a moment; others for a lifetime. All of them are there for a reason. It’s not about who you have known the longest.
8. I don’t have all the answers. Even though that terrifies me sometimes, it’s okay.
9. The greatest gift that can be given is time and attention.
10. Having compassion is better than having the right thing to say or the solution to the problem. Compassion will overcome most shortcomings.
11. I am my worst enemy.
12. Time spent in prayer is never time wasted.
13. God loves me more than I can comprehend. Trying to name it would be putting God in a box. 14. No one deserves to be treated like a door mat.
15. God is patient, but not pushy. He has already chosen me. I have to keep choosing Him.
16. To quote Robert Fulghum, “Life is lumpy. And a lump in the oatmeal, a lump in the throat, and a lump in the breast are not the same lump…learn to separate the inconveniences from the problems.”
17. A sense of humor doesn’t necessarily make life easier, but it makes it more enjoyable.
18. Good books, good coffee, good company, and good conversation are always worth it.
19. Miracles happen.
20. There is a part of me that will always be an English teacher.
21. Life doesn’t come with a rewind button. Live, learn, move on.
22. To share in another’s journey of life and faith is an amazing privilege and blessing.
23. Sometimes family helps us bear our crosses, and sometimes family is the cross we bear.
24. I can’t save anyone or make anyone change.
25. I never want to stop learning.
26. I need people in my life who challenge me to grow. Even if they annoy me.
27. I’m not where I thought I would be in my life, but I wouldn’t change it.

(The views expressed in this blog are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of my employer.)

Resolutions

• Blog at least once a week.
• Deal with the "Room To Be Dealt With" aka -- The room that makes us look like we should be on Hoarders (starting with getting 100 items out of the apartment by January 31. Thanks for the idea, Turn Right at Lake Michigan.)
• Spend at least one hour each week doing something creative: writing, drawing, photography... something.
• Finish my Master's degree.
• Get a library card.
• ...and all the normal "eat better, exercise more, quit my vices" crap... well, except the vices I like...

Here's to an exciting (but only in the good way), joyful 2011.

All opinions reflected here are my own and do not necessarily represent the views of my employer.

Building Bridges...

Nothing fancy here, friends. Just tossing the stuff in my head out into the blogosphere to see what may develop...

As you may have guessed from my previous post, I'm reading much these days about young adults, God, Church and technology. This is the kind of stuff that intrigues me, irritates me, rolls around in my head, comes gushing out of my mouth as non-sequiturs, and returns to my own ears newly conceived to go through the whole process again. Current reads? Hamlet's BlackBerry and Handing on the Faith in an Age of Disbelief. A modern philosophy meets Pope Benedict XVI. Awesome.

A true confession: (Is there such thing as an untrue confession? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?) Between the web-based work I do for my job (which, by the way, I'm super excited about) and the web-related thinking I do for my homework, I just. want. it. to. STOP. Seriously. (The irony, of course, is not lost on me that I'm professing my desire to break from the techno-world in the techno-sphere.) I seriously just want to paint something. I need a creative outlet that does not involve a screen. Interestingly enough, that's what Hamlet's Blackberry is about -- finding the "gap" between interfaces so we can accomplish something that is not do-able in 140 characters or less: Depth. And that sounds blissful... but maybe that's just because I have more than 140 characters worth of stuff to say. and ask. and think about. Does technology help me figure out who I am? You know, when I do things like this and type-out-loud? Or does it distract me and keep me from the quiet, alone place where I can explore the deeper questions of what it means to be human? To another level, how do I identify God in this noise and light?

Another thing bouncing in my brain: knowledge of the faith. For my purposes, I'm most concerned with Catholics, but really, studies have shown that people in the United States just have a poor understanding of religious traditions in general. In the biz, we talk about knowledge of the faith as one of the six tasks of catechesis, and it's through the other five tasks that knowledge of the faith is contextualized. SO, if people don't have an experience of God, or community, or relationship, how can we expect that they will know and understand the faith?

Being engaged in social media is all about presence, relationship and community. Prayer is about relationship, communication, presence. The mystical Body of Christ is about community and presence and relationship. All related. How are they connected? What's the bridge? How can we use technology to form a culture that understands what it means to be human, rather than have a culture chasing after the latest and greatest in technology? What do we need to disconnect from technology long enough to be in the quiet, alone place, so we can contemplate -- in depth! -- what it means to be human, created in the image and likeness of God? How can we see and hear Christ in the blinking and beeping of a 4G world?

Any one?

The views expressed in this blog are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employer.

Something about 20-Somethings

I have a request, as a young adult: If you are not a young adult, please quit writing about young adults.

Much has been written lately about the 20-somethings (See the August New York Times magazine piece What Is It About the 20-Somethings?) Some of it is undeniably true. Much of it is a matter of perspective. (Do the Boomers who are writing this stuff really understand my generation?) Most of it is not flattering. As one blogger recently noted, "After all, based on all available evidence, Millennials are the most obnoxious, self-entitled, lazy, and willfully ignorant generation to ever pollute the surface of the earth." (You can read the rest here.) And more discussion here. Even the article Why Bashing Millennials is Wrong, which shows the positive side to characteristics otherwise considered negative, identifies Millennials as entitled -- the "poodles of humanity."

While there seem to be a few rational voices out there (20-somethings, by the way) such as this one, who point to the "delayed adolescence" as being more about the economy than maturity, the whole concept of not being an adult because we don't settle into a "real job," get married, buy a house and have a family is asinine. I know plenty of immature Boomers who own houses and have spouses (and former spouses!) who get to keep their adult card, despite being more "adolescent" than most of my friends who are 20-something.

The "religious" responses haven't been tremendously kind either. As I read the title of this blog post about Evangelizing Young Adults , I found myself holding my breath. It seems most of what is being written about Young Adults in the Church either bemoans them as the Missing Generation or, when presenting a legitimate issue separating young adults from the Church, garners comments inciting Millennials to "grow up" and quit being dissenters.

A couple of considerations:
First, the National Study of Youth and Religion and follow up research claims that the best indicator of the faith of an adolescent is the faith of the parents. If adolescents (who have moved into "emerging adulthood" are ascribing to a belief system characterized by researchers as Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, guess what the parents likely believe? Also, this NCR article notes that nearly half of Catholics who are now unaffiliated left the Church prior to age 18. So, really, who do you think made that decision? Exactly how does a "gradual drifting away" work for someone who hasn't been alive long enough to accomplish what used to be considered reaching adulthood? I wasn't raised Catholic, but I seem to recall the words, "As long as you're living under this roof..." being expressed more than once.

I'm not placing the blame on entirely on the parents. As young adults, we certainly have to make a choice to own the faith; however, bemoaning all the faults of the Millennial generation certainly does not bring us to Mass on Sunday, nor does writing off our legitimate issues with Church teaching as mere immaturity. In fact, the broad strokes used to describe my generation as lazy, distracted, uncommitted and lacking faith creates bigger problems than it solves. It is frustrating to those, like me, who are engaged in the Church, and it makes me feel like there is no place for me here. When I'm struggling to have my own voice heard, to have my own spiritual needs met, to feel that I belong...to what would I be inviting my peers? The decline in Mass attendance is caused by an absence greater than my generation. The lack of knowledge and understanding of Church teachings began before we were born. It's not a young adult problem; it's a Church problem. Maybe we can be part of the solution, if there's room for us at the table.

The truth is we have many gifts. We are innovative. We are creative. We understand how to build community and what it means to be "universal." We are committed to service, the "delay" of a "real job" often caused by committing a year or more to service to the poor, vulnerable, or under-resourced. We're intelligent, and we're making a difference. Yeah, we've got our issues, but who doesn't?

You want to know why young adults aren't in the pews? Try asking us, when you're ready to listen. Let us be part of the conversation and we might find a solution. And stop talking about us like we're not here.

The views expressed in this blog are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employer.

First Day Fumble

Today was my first day at my new job. And I was really nervous. Excited, but nervous. This is the position I knew I eventually wanted to end up in, so getting to this position now is all kinds of awesome. But, did I mention I was nervous?

I did all of the "I'm-nervous-and-excited-about-my-first-day-of-(fill in the blank)" routines: I practiced getting up earlier for a week before the job started (since I now have a 40 mile commute...). I set my alarm clock and the alarm on my phone so I wouldn't over sleep. I made sure I would be ready to leave about 20 minutes earlier than necessary, just to account for traffic. I picked out not one, but two outfits last night, just in case one turned out to be a fashion malfunction. (It did.) I set the delay brew on the coffee pot. I made my lunch. I went to be early (although, I was so nervousexcitedanxious that I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, and I checked my alarm clock twelve times to make sure I hadn't mistakenly set it for pm...)

My alarm clock went off at the appropriate time. I showered, dressed, did my hair, changed clothes, put on some make up...I was making great time! Since I had a few extra minutes, I decided to log on to Facebook for a few minutes, thinking I'd just change my status and log off.... but that's just not how Facebook works...

I closed the browser two minutes before I should have been leaving.

No problem, I thought. I just have to put some milk in my coffee and grab my lunch, and I'll be out the door.

I walked to the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator door... and the shelf in the door clattered to the floor AND EVERYTHING STORED IN THE DOOR CAME CRASHING DOWN! As I quickly manuevered in an attempt to save what I could from hitting the floor, a beer fell to the floor, landing on its top...

...Spraying like a fire hydrant ALL OVER THE KITCHEN. One minute before I should be walking out the door.

Shoving everything onto the bottom shelf of the fridge, I tossed the shelf onto the counter, and grabbed the bottle opener. (Yes, the beer was still spewing all over the kitchen, pooling on the floor and running under the pantry door...) I held the beer over the sink, popped it open and dumped the rest of it, then mopped up the floor (and cabinets... and walls... and fridge... and stove... and dishwasher...) Tossing the rags into the sink to be dealt with when I got home, I grabbed my lunch and coffee, and dashed out the door, smelling slightly like beer.

As I started my car, the Tom Waits CD started blaring:

The piano has been drinking... not me. Not me. Not me...

(For good measure: the views expressed on this blog are mine alone and do not necessarily represent the views of my employer.)

Goodbyes and Hellos

There's better blogging in the making -- I just need some more time to sort it all out in my head. The process of purging and packing for the upcoming move has proven to be an interesting adventure in taking stock of the past to move to the future.

I just reduced the physical evidence of my undergraduate college career and my English teaching career from 5 plastic storage bins and 9 boxes of books to ONE (1!) plastic storage bin and ONE (1!) box of books. This requires a moment of silence...

*****

In some ways, it's like taking a cheese grater to my heart. It's almost physically painful to realize that I won't likely teach English again, or create new memories with a new batch of "freshbabies." But mostly, it's fun. I've laughed at notes I've found. I've been struck with awe at how intelligent I sound in papers I wrote. I've remembered with a sort of proud, wistful, bittersweet nostalgia that I was a good student and a good teacher. It's those experiences that have thrust me into the place where I stand now.

Get ready. New apartment, new job, new marriage are all on the horizon. Here comes life at full speed.

Wisdom from a Past Life

Next month, I will be making my 9th move in 7 years. (Yes, you read that correctly, and yes, that works out to moving more than once a year. Trust me, I know it's insanity.) Since this move also includes the anticipation of blending households as a result of the upcoming nuptials (and because I kinda made a big deal over Love of My Life unloading some of his... well... stuff... before moving in), I busted out the boxes that I've moved four times without as much as peeking inside of them. It's time to let go of some things.

It's been an oddly amusing trek down memory lane. I've found textbooks that I should've sold back when I could still get some money for them (Why did I ever think I should hold on to the History of Education text?!), articles that I used for research during my undergrad (Anything you want to know about Gifted Education, IDEA '97, or the value of homework, circa 2003, I've got you covered.), notes from class (complete with funny side conversations... And I'm finding these terribly difficult to unload!), papers I wrote (Dang! I was smart once upon a time!), and tons and tons and tons of lesson plans, unit plans, and teaching resources (for which I would like to find a good home.)

I've also found my journals, poetry, and writing folders. From about 1995 forward. If you do the math, you'll realize that's snippets of what was going on in my brain for more than half of my life. I've always been a writer, and I've always written with a very irregular ebb and flow. There are journal entries that are once (and sometimes, twice) a day for weeks on end and then nothing for months. There are pieces of stories, lines of poetry, words I liked, descriptions, and scribbled notes about how frustrated I was with the process of writing.

Tucked in a folder with some character sketches and plot outlines, I found this. It's not dated, but everything else in the folder is from about my junior/senior years of high school. I know I didn't write it, originally, -- it doesn't sound like me. A quick Google search revealed that it is, in fact, very popular, though I didn't nail down a source. Reading it now -- 10ish years later -- knowing what I know, being where I've been, seeing what I've seen -- it makes me smile. The manifesto of a generation? Perhaps. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote it down.

Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there, to serve some sort of purpose, to teach you a lesson or to help you figure out who you are or who you want to become. You never know who these people may be, possibly your roommate, neighbor, coworker, long lost friend, lover or even a complete stranger, but when you lock eyes with them, you know at that very moment that they will affect your life in some profound way.

And sometimes things happen to you that may seem horrible, painful and unfair at first, but in reflection, you find that, without overcoming those obstacles, you would have never realized your potential, strength, willpower or heart. Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of good luck. Illness, injury, love lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limist of your soul. Without these small tests, whatever they may be, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight, flat road to nowhere. It would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless.

The people you meet who affect your life and the success and downfalls you experience, help to create woh you are and who you become. Even the bad experiences can be learned from. In fact, they are probably the most poignant and important ones. If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious when you open your heart.

If someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, not only because they love you, but because, in a way, they are teaching you to love and how to open your heart and eyes to things.

Make every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from those moments everything that you possibly can for you may never be able to experience it again.

Talk to people that you have never talked to before and actually listen. Let yourself fall in love, break free and set your sights high.

Hold your head up because you have every right to. Tell yourself you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don't believe in yourself, it will be hard for others to believe in you.

You can make your life anything you wish. Create your own life and then go out and live it with absolutely no regrets.

Most importantly, if you love someone, tell him or her, for you never know what tomorrow may have in store.

And learn a lesson in each day that you live.

(More journal adventures to come, I'm sure.)

When Professional Development gets Personal

I'm spending the week at Notre Dame, attending the Young Adult Ministry Symposium, "Stewards of the Treasures of our Faith." It's a gathering of campus ministers, vocation directors, and others who work in young adult ministry, discussing how to connect young adults to liturgy, prayer, vocation and service. I can't even remember how I first came to know about it -- it was sometime after LA Congress -- but I remember thinking, This is what Lalanne is about.

So why am I passionate about young adult ministry? Because I'm a young adult. Because it makes me sad that I worked so hard to come into the Catholic Church -- I'm Catholic and I love being Catholic -- yet sometimes I wonder if there is a place in this Church for me. I've been fortunate to, more or less, find ways to feed my soul. It's not perfect, and I often find myself hungering for more, but... I'm still being nourished. What if, though, I hadn't been so determined in my faith? Then what? I have certainly had the experience of feeling unwanted, unimportant, unwelcome...what if that had been my only experience?

Sometimes I wonder why I bothered to become Catholic. The scandal and the hurt within the Church is sometimes so overwhelming that I think, This? I went through all of that for this? Clearly, the Church is challenged and broken. It's a confusing, heartbreaking, unfathomable time. I struggle to make sense of the terrible, criminal things that have transpired, while still clinging to faith that God is in here somewhere. God must be. But where?

I came to Notre Dame thinking I'd learn a few things about bridging from campus ministry to parish ministry, and how to help other young adults make that transition. I thought I'd get some pointers on connecting to liturgy and prayer, which would help me in developing the faith sharing and prayer resources that I share with the teachers. I thought I'd be able to network with other people committed to working with young adults. What I didn't expect is to have my own journey, my own young adult faith, my own struggles with the Church, my own experience with the sacred challenged and affirmed, my questions asked and answered.

I hope to be able to share more as I reflect and process the images and challenges that have been shared, but something from tonight's "spiritual renewal" seems to summarily gather some of my thoughts.

There are cracks in everything. That's how the light gets through.

There are, indeed, cracks in everything. Even in the Church. Let the Light shine.

The Misadventures of Being Me

Coming to you live from the University of Notre Dame, where I am attending Stewards of the Faith, a young adult ministry symposium. There are about 250 people here from across the US and Canada, mostly campus ministers and Vocation directors. I'd only met a handful of these people prior to today.

At dinner, some women invited me to join them at their table -- a Maryknoll sister, two School Sisters of Notre Dame, and another, whose order I never did hear -- all Vocation Directors. (NO. None of them asked me if I ever considered becoming a sister. Women know to look for rings.) A few minutes into the conversation, one of the sisters told me I looked familiar, but she couldn't figure out where she would've met me.

"Actually, I get that a lot," I explain. "I think I must just have a familiar face."

"Nooo..." she responds. "I'm sure I've met you before."

We exchange the names of various conferences, workshops, parishes -- any place we might've both been. Unable to make the connection, the conversation moves to other topics.

Several minutes later, she exclaims, "I know! You were at NCYC!"

I had, indeed, been at NCYC, and I won a prize from the School Sisters of Notre Dame booth. From there, we realized that she lives with another SSND whom I know. But how on earth could she remember me out of 22,000 people?

"You were the one with the neck brace."

Awesome.

One Week Later...

One week after starting the "project," this is what I have learned: I am undisciplined.

Seriously. When I started, I thought, "How hard can it be to take ONE picture a day?" But, having been committed to this for a week, I've realized that I generally find myself thinking, "Crap! I need to take a picture!" at about 10 pm. And so the pictures are bad and boring, and I'm unimpressed, uninspired and kind of embarrassed.

It's not that I haven't had opportunities to take pictures, either. On Day 3, where no picture exists, we had a great day -- We celebrated my birthday with the McEntees, visited the Schroeder familia, and dined at the Backstage. I could've taken pictures of nephews, new baby Schroeder or familia de Nacho. On Tuesday, I had birthday dinner with my sister. I fully intended to snap a picture to document the celebration of our 29th and 26th years. But I was too busy being present in the moment. And that's... not a bad thing. As a very wise woman would say, I'm taking pictures with my heart.

That's the new challenge: Balance. Balancing the discipline and commitment to pay attention to what is around me, to be disciplined enough to follow through, and to not be so concerned about capturing the moment that I miss the moment entirely. And that's not just a lesson in photography.

Project 365

1/365
Originally uploaded by ADelamer03

Today is my 29th birthday. I know several of my friends have expressed consternation at turning 29, but it doesn't bother me. I figure 29 is the age everyone wants to go back to, so there must be something pretty good about it. And I have a few things planned this year that should make it memorable, to say the least.

Enter my new project. Inspired by the creative and wonderful Nicole, who can be found at www.threebysea.com, I am starting Project 365 -- A picture a day for an entire year. I have many things that I hope will come out of this project -- I hope to be more aware of my surroundings, I hope to be more inspired to write, I hope to find the discipline to do both of those things and blah blah blah. More than anything I think it will be cool to look back and see how the year unfolds. Sometimes I'll blog about the picture. Sometimes I won't. Follow along. Yell at me if you don't see something new. Sit back and enjoy the ride. I intend to.

Oh, and go visit Nicole at Three By Sea. And buy something! She's trying to make a living so she can stay home with her kid, people!

Why, hello there, 29. I hope you're all that I've wished for...

Advent Fail; Lenten Hope

Yes, friends, I know that Advent (and Christmas!) are both over, and Lent has yet to begin. We are, as the liturgically-minded well know, pretty much smack in the middle of the first Ordinary Time. Actually, this post is most fitting during this season, as Ordinary Time is a season of growth and hope of life in Christ.

Advent Fail.
Advent is a time of preparation and joyful anticipation. It is the season when we, as a Church, remember Israel's waiting and longing for a Messiah, just as we wait in joyful anticipation of the coming of Christ at the end of time. We hear in the readings that we are to be ready for redemption is at hand. We light the candles on the Advent wreath as a reminder that the Light of the World has overcome the darkness.

I was ready for redemption. End of suffering? Bring it! Stepping out of the darkness and into the light? I've got my sunscreen ready!

But Christmas came. And Christmas went. While it was happy, certainly, it was not the joyful celebration I had hoped it would be. The baby Jesus had been placed in the manger, but the joy of the Lord was not placed in my heart. The pain, suffering and sadness remained.

It wasn't until after the Advent wreath was put away, and the Christmas tree and creche packed up for another year that I realized what had gone so terribly wrong.

Christ did not fail to come. I did.

I was not preparing for Christ to come. I was preparing for my suffering to end. I was not joyfully anticipating the arrival of my Savior. I was joyfully anticipating the arrival of relief from pain and sadness, and even that anticipation was not so joyful, but nearly demanded. I was so preoccupied with my own condition, so caught up in the hurt that I was feeling, so engulfed in my own self that I nearly missed it.

Christ did not fail to appear. Surely, Christ is present in the world, during Advent, Christmas, and now.

I failed to recognize Christ's presence.

I was so preoccupied with the love I wanted, but didn't have, that I failed to recognize the love being poured over me. Christ is present in that love.

I was so concerned with the lack of peace in my family that I failed to recognize the peacefulness of the snow-blanketed earth and sleeping babies. Christ is present in that peace.

I was so longing for joy on my terms that I failed to recognize the joy of dinner with old friends, and of a child's awe-filled wonder at Christmas. Christ is present in that joy.

Christ is present in the world. Like the Magi, we must seek Him.

Today I had coffee with two wonderful, faith-filled women. At one point our conversation turned to the suffering in the world, suffering far greater than my pain in the neck and unrest in my family: The earthquake in Haiti. The loss of a child. The death of a grandparent. The suicide of a college student. Our discussion did not linger on the senselessness or intensity of these sufferings. Rather, it was a proclamation of gratitude for the gift of faith during times of suffering.

Suffering is senseless, she said, until you connect it to the Cross. It is by our faith, she noted, that we have hope despite our suffering. Even when we are experiencing Good Friday, we are promised Easter Sunday.

In three weeks, we will fill our parishes, receive our ashes, and go out into the world with the words, "Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel" echoing in our ears. We will enter, with the Catechumenate, into the period of Purification and Englightenment. I'm actually looking forward to Lent this year. I hope to be purified and enlightened. I hope I can learn how to be graceful in suffering, because suffering is so often grace-filled, when we can see Christ present.

In the meantime, in Ordinary Time, I pray that I come to more fully recognize the love, peace, joy and hope of Christ present in the world.

When the Path is Deceptive...

You've all seen these road signs. The yellow ones with the curving arrow, accompanied by a speed limit to warn drivers to slow down before taking the exit ramp from the interstate. Perhaps you have had the experience, as I have, of thinking, "Enh. It doesn't look that bad. I can take this faster than 25 mph." And then, as you attempt the curve at 40 mph, you find yourself struggling for control. (Okay, maybe that's just my driving...)

That's kind of how life has been lately. I knew some things were coming, and it wasn't until I found myself careening into said circumstances that I realized just how difficult it was going to be. I'm still struggling to regain balance. As I read somewhere recently, I'm better than I was, but not quite so good as I was before I got worse.

It's been interesting to be in such a place during the season of Advent. Okay, really, it's been annoying at times... All this talk of waiting in anticipation, and redemption being at hand, and you suffer now, but the promise is coming. I really just want to say, "Enough already! Let's get on with the redemption!" But when the impatience subsides, it is good to be reminded that this is only temporary. We are promised Christ, the Messiah, and He has overcome the world! And this is what Advent is about... waiting, preparing, anticipating...

O Key of David and Scepter of the House of Israel; you open and no man closes; you close and no man opens. Come, and deliver from the chains of prison those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

Deep in the heart of Texas...

Oh, Texas. It's been a fast one. Quick overview to hit the highlights, with a more reflective blog in the process.

Monday -- Knowing I wouldn't have time at any other point in the week, I hit El Mercado for a specific purchase -- a gift that I'd been contemplating for awhile. Super excited about the gift. Spent the evening with the community. I love spending time with these amazing women.

Tuesday -- Three observations, a midterm and a little more community time.
I remembered how much middle school students make me laugh. Aware that I was there to observe their teacher, two of the seventh graders kept yelling "She's a really good teacher!" and "We learn a lot from her!" in the middle of class.

Two "tee-hee" stories from the Kindergarten. The letter of the day was B ("B says 'buh'!"), and the students were identifying words they know that begin with b. One student said barn. Their teacher asks the students if they could tell her what a barn is. One little guy, who was so excited he could hardly stay "criss-cross-applesauce," announced, "It's a place where animals live, and my mom bought the big barn on FarmVille last night!"

A little while later, during snack, a student who was seated at the table where I was working informed me that my "bracelet has brown beads. Buh-buh-buh!" The girl at the same table asked if she could see it. She then asked if I would take it off, so she could see it. I thought I was going to have to use force to get it out of her fingers. (I did not take it off.)

In Spanish class, I wondered when students in Texas were going to be able to use the phrase, "Hace frio," as it was in the nineties with high humidity each day this week. Today was particularly disgusting.

A few realizations from Wednesday. One, I think I like Texas because they have places named "Mamacita's" and "Bueno Taco!" We don't have that in Ohio. I also wondered if a place like Chipotle really does very well in Texas. Kind of seems like a sell out. Finally, I was rather disappointed by Austin. I don't know why I expected Austin to be different. Driving into Austin from 35 S is kind of like driving into Atlanta on 75 from the south. The hotels just get bigger and closer together, and then you're kind of like, "Oh, hey. I'm downtown. There's where the Longhorns play football." I expected Austin to be more like Cincinnati -- You come through the cut in the hill, and TA-DA! There's the city!

Wednesday was also the day that I stopped in New Braunfels to see Kristen, my friend from high school. We were nearly inseparable the last two years of high school, despite going to different schools. I'm not quite sure I know all of what came between us, but at this point, it's just best to say life took us in different directions. It was very cool to see her and spend some time catching up. What I thought would be a couple hours turned into like four, and I found myself driving back to San Antonio at one in the morning. Totally worth it.

Sooo... a word about rental cars. You really should figure out how to read the gas gauge before you get too close to empty. Because it's quite an adventure to find yourself on 35 in Texas, in the wee hours of the morning, and thinking, "Hmmm... I wonder why that is flashing. OH! That's the low gas indicator!... Crap. How long has that been flashing?" (Much to my relief, I found an open Exxon station, and I pretty much coasted up to the pump.)

The gas light fiasco was followed by turning on the car Thursday morning to find the Check Engine light on. It took Enterprise an hour to decide if I should just drive the car, or if they could find another compact car to bring me. (Apparently, even if the car they give you requires maintenance, they are not giving you a free upgrade for the day!) After an hour of calling back and forth, they told me to go ahead and drive, but provided me with a number "in case the car breaks down or stops running." Wow. That makes me feel spectacular.

Four volunteer fairs over two days -- with mixed results. I'm looking forward to following up with the potential Lalanners that I've met over the past few days. I'm especially loving the group of volunteer service program recruiters who are running the circuits. What a fabulous group of people! Super fun. I'm really looking forward to hanging out with them more next week.

Tonight was a particularly slow fair, and I was privileged to spend about an hour and a half talking to Hector from ACE about the spirituality of art, theological reflection in sketches, visio divina, and sacred art. Amazing conversation. We also talked about prayer forms, prayer journals, stories of saints that we love, icons, cool churches, and Catholic identity at the university level. He's an artist, teaches art, and is teaching a college level course on Theological Reflection through Art.

So I'm pretty sure I'm going to like this recruiting thing...

On Writing and Wandering...

On writing...
I recently read an article about using electronic media to connect to people. It was actually a work thing -- more about "branding" than about really connecting, but a line caught my attention. Basically, if you're going to blog, you have to be committed to it....

Oops.

The crazy thing is I've been writing.

• A paper about God revealed in the Gospel of John (A-, with no comments. Annoying.)
• Three sentence summaries on Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine's Confessions, and Gregory of Nazianzus
• All the copy for the new program brochure
• The FAQs section for the new Lalanne website (Check it: Lalanne. Hopefully the links will be fixed soon.)
• A whole new application
• A lesson plan for teaching lesson planning...

I've done some personal writing, too. A reflection on the Gospel from a few weeks ago -- Who do you say that I am? An email that was an attempt to explain some of the wild pitches that came up in life recently -- it ended up being so confusing, even to me, that I never sent it. A blog about drawing lessons that is perhaps one of the most beautiful things I've ever composed, and at the same time, contains so much of my heart that I'm fearful to let others read it. And a half-finished reflection on today's (mmmkay... after midnight. Yesterday's) Gospel about divorce, and my struggle to reconcile the message of that Gospel with my own life experience.

But this comment on being committed has nagged at me for a few weeks now.

And on wandering...

I am about to embark on a whirlwind recruiting adventure. Between now and the end of the month, I will visit something like 13 different college campuses in five states, all in the hopes of recruiting fabulous teachers who want to serve in under-resourced Catholic schools. And I'm sure many a marvelous and hysterical thing will occur as I gallivant about.

So this is my commitment. At least two posts a week while I'm off on the recruiting extravaganza. Let the adventure begin!

Sound bites.

Things I've heard and chewed on in the past week or so:

"The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain." (The Book Thief by Markus Zusak)

"May we all be more Christ-like."

"I have often wished that all the people I love could all be in one place, but then I realized that the place I love may not be the place my loved ones love so I guess that wouldn't work." "Maybe that's your soul, longing for heaven. All of the people you love, in one place."

"And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields, for my name's sake, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life." (Mt. 19:29)

"God has been saying, 'I know you. I know what you need. And I've shown you in this way, and in this way, and in this way. Now I need you to trust me. Trust that I've put you where I want you, and be present in that.'" (Thanks, Em.)

"She's a trouble maker. That's her charism."

"As soon as I lie down, I fall peacefully asleep." (Ps. 4:9)

"There is a gigantic difference between earning a great deal of money and being rich." (Marlene Dietrich

"As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. Jesus then said to the Twelve, "Do you also want to leave?" Simon Peter answered him, "Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced you are the Holy One of God." (Jn. 6:66-69)

**To those who provided these sound bytes, thank you for inspiring me, challenging me, and loving me. You make my life richer, and I am grateful.

peace at last

Last night, I ran into someone from my past. My connection to this woman is actually through her son, with whom I spent a fair amount of time during my last two years of high school. It has probably been seven or eight years since I last saw her. It took a minute, but when she recognized me, I was greeted by a huge hug, followed by the barrage of six million questions in about thirty seconds: Howareyou?wherehaveyoubeen?whathaveyoubeendoing?

Six years ago, this week, I left Ohio newly married. Twenty seven months ago, this week, I returned, newly divorced. In between, I lived in two states, had three jobs, took 15 hours worth of graduate courses, was fully initiated into the Catholic Church, met new people, made new friends, lost track of others. With all the life changes, I changed. I grew up, matured, lived life, got hurt, healed, forgave, walked away, realized fears and dreams, let go of old beliefs...

I've spent the last twenty seven months trying to figure out how to be the "new" me on "old" turf. I struggled, at times, to navigate between people who knew me "before," and those who met me "after." I couldn't quite figure out how the pieces of my life, so different and so important, fit together now. As a result, my typical reaction to the bombarding questions was to be vague.

I'm fine. Yes, I'm back from Florida. No, I'm not teaching. It has been a long time.

But last night -- for the first time -- as the questions rained down upon me, I didn't feel the need to avoid them. In fact, if we hadn't been standing in the middle of 50+ toddlers, all clean and shiny for a baby beauty contest, I probably would have said, "Grab a drink, and pull up a chair. Have I got some tales to tell you."