Not being a hermit is hard.

I am struggling.

I do not want to be negative when people ask me how I feel.  I try to choose joy and appreciate my blessings even if I do not feel particularly happy.  Yet, much of what has happened to us over the past year and a half has been kind of awful or just maddeningly difficult.

As I ever so cautiously poke my head out of my hermit crab shell, I see many smiling and slightly concerned faces.  “Hey!  Where have you been?  What’s new?  I haven’t seen you in, like, more than a year.  How are you?”  

Here, I am transported to Robert Frost’s yellow wood.  I can choose one of several responses:

-       - Brief summary of time since last visit, glossing over the more gory details

-       - Longer version wherein I tell them how these events made me feel

-       - Full scale conversation that includes the bumper sticker incident

-       - I’m great!  What’s new with you?

Naturally, my relationship with the inquirer influences my decision.  However, after telling the story over and over, I feel tired.  Like maybe I just want to move on and not talk about it all the time.  Yet, there have been many occasions in which this conversation has benefitted one or both of us.  A friend gives welcome advice.  Compassion blooms.  Pain is shared. 

God has blessed me immensely through my trials.  He has led me to the most tender and compassionate souls who soothe my angry heart.  He has drawn me to Himself and scooted me closer to my sweet husband.  He has poured His peace into me and invited me to rest. 

In Sunday's Gospel, Jesus informs us that we must pick up our crosses and follow Him in order to reach Heaven.  He firmly reminds us that our ways are not God’s ways and that we should not expect God to adhere to our plans.  Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus tells us, “I will be with you until the end of the age.”  Nothing can make Him leave us.  We cannot fully understand how deeply He loves each of us.

 Yet, nowhere does Jesus say, “Glad you’ve joined the team!  The rest should be easy from here.”  Remember that cross we are called to pick up?  It’s heavy and full of splinters, and people we pass laugh and sneer at us.  Many times, pain is still pain even amid splendid blessings.  Sometimes, thankfully, it fades.  Yet, I often find that the wonderful in life does not simply replace the awful.  We feel them both at once, and that can be confusing.

Here I am feeling peaceful, but not excited.  Joyful, but wounded and angry.  Do I really have to tell my whole story to everyone just in case they are suffering too?  Is it really my job to teach the world compassion through sharing my pain?  I certainly do not mean this sarcastically.  These are real questions.  I would hate to selfishly hide my experience from someone who is feeling alone in a similar circumstance.  Yet, I also do not wish to awkwardly burden everyone I meet with my bizarre and complicated tales or have them think I am some kind of longsuffering saint.  Sometimes, I am just tired of retelling the same sad tale.  It gets exhausting having to revisit the pain when I would really prefer to discuss anything else.  I try to let the other person lead the conversation, which has proven helpful.  But, even then, some people ask questions they just don’t want to hear me answer honestly.  For example, when people ask why we have not adopted, it is very difficult for me not to say, “Because all the babies are dead.”

I told you.  I am awkward.  And kinda angry.  We haven’t even started on how I feel about our upcoming mission. 

The first full day of orientation, our mission director informed us that the husband and I will not be going to our originally scheduled destination.  The volunteer accommodations are simply not ready and will not be for another six months or so.  The only other site open was the husband’s original first choice and my absolute last.  At our discernment weekend, I said, “I would like to go anywhere except… That site has challenges I am simply not prepared to handle.”  And then God chuckled because He thinks He’s hilarious.

Why the …, you ask?  Our new site is located in a country whose religious climate is complicated.  We are embarking on a mission in which we will not be allowed to talk about our faith.  We will still be working with young people and hopefully inspiring them to seek the truth in their lives.  However, we, along with the local priests and brothers, must carry out this mission simply by living as good Christians as we perform our daily tasks. 

I was hesitant to accept this placement for several reasons.  First, my sister has long been working diligently to be able to move to this area of the world and live her own dreams.  How could I waltz in and do her thing?  Second, I am intimidated by the isolation this site could impose.  We cannot even mention spiritual matters in emails or over the phone.  I will not be able to keep up this blog while we are there.  Yikes. 

After much prayer, talking with the husband, and a few tears, we decided to accept this placement.  This is a great act of trust for me.  I am choosing to follow my husband’s lead and let God take us where He likes.  I keep thinking of Saint Joseph when the angel told him to pack up Mary and Jesus and take them to Egypt.  Joseph didn’t say, “Eehhh, it’s really hot there.  How about Asia Minor?”  He did not ask what prize was at the end for him.  He just listened to God.  Joseph did not even live to see Jesus’ marvelous triumph over death.  He died without seeing the fruits of his acts of faith.  Yet all was well with his soul.  And, now, because of his trust and obedience, we may say the same for ourselves.

Though I want to go on this mission, and am happy about it, I do not feel very excited.  We will face some obvious challenges, and who knows what unannounced trials we will face.  When pondering whether this was all a grand mistake, I revisited my own words.  In my job as a social worker, I met incredibly generous people who are ever ready to perform whatever task necessary to assist our suffering neighbors.  I also encountered people who wanted to help the poor, but only on their own terms.  It seemed to me that they preferred to help in ways that looked nice or had a certain “warm fuzzy” quality to them. 

“Caring for the poor doesn’t always look cute,”

I have been known to say.  It is often tedious, frustrating, and exhausting.  Yet, how refreshing is the deep peace I feel knowing I have faithfully answered God’s call.  On the surface, this mission makes but a little sense to me.  I must ask myself why.  Is it because any positive results of my work will be all but hidden from me?  Or maybe because this community is not materially poor, and I don’t see why they need us?  What’s so important about learning a few English words anyway?  Is this really worth leaving my family for so long?  I don’t see the point. 

And I have decided I am strangely okay with that.  I choose to trust God in this and see what ridiculous adventure He has in store for us.

But, again, explaining to the general population that I am not currently experiencing giddy emotions over this trip is a little weird for me.  I think I feel somewhat frightened that someone is going to say, “You’re not excited?  No mission for you!”

 Irrational?  Probably.  But have you read anything else about the inner workings of my brain?  Anyhoo…  This is yet another area of my life I am not sure how to express.  I do not enjoy feeling like I have to worry about people’s insensitive comments at every turn.  I dislike that those comments bother me at all.  I do not want to feel like I must constantly defend myself and the weirdness that is mine and the husband’s life.  I want to be joyful in the midst of all this.

Mary, Help of Christians, help me stay close to Jesus in my struggles.  Pray that my heart might be quiet and I learn to trust in Him and cease all this silly worrying.  Help me drown my anger in His peace.

Orientation: three weeks of AWESOME

Hello, friends!

We are back home from New York after three weeks of orientation.  We had an amazing time.  The first week, we learned about living in another culture and how to make our transitions to and from mission as smooth as possible.  We also got acquainted with our fellow missioners, who will be an important support system for us in this journey.  On our day off, we toured Manhattan.  Wesley and I walked about 10 miles and saw Central Park, Midtown, Times Square, and ate dinner in China town.  We also attended Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral with our whole group.

Central Park

our room for most of orientation

Divine Compassion Center, where we stayed for weeks 1 and 2

The second week, we served at a Salesian Parish in Port Chester.  We assisted at their summer camp and at the Don Bosco Center (soup kitchen, clothes closet, day laborer advocate program, etc.).  Our days began at 6:30 AM with morning prayer and ended between 8:00 and 10:00 PM.  The hospitality shown by the brothers and parishioners was astounding.  Different groups of parishioners took turns cooking dinner for us, and we were hardly allowed to leave if we did not eat seconds. 

soccer.  lots of soccer

taking a cantaloupe break after our hard work

sun too hot while you paint?  No worries when you have your handy box shade.

Week three was more relaxing.  We spent these days on retreat with the Salesian brothers and priests.  We learned about Salesian spirituality and educational methods.  One of the priests led us on a hike of Bear Mountain, which is part of the Appalachian Trail.  We were commissioned in a Mass celebrated by the Provincial.  He reminded us that Jesus has called us by name for this mission, and we do not go alone.  Our group enjoyed getting to know the brothers and hear their stories of how they came to the Salesian family.  On our last day, we were privileged to attend a profession Mass for two brothers.  One made his first profession, and the other, his perpetual vows. 

Father Tom and me.  He's the sweetest.

at the top!  and soaked from the rain.

about half way up.  view of the Hudson River

Such good times!  We truly felt at home with the Salesians.  Their reverent, humble love for God and tender devotion to Mary lie at the heart of all they do.  They work tirelessly for the good of young people and are truly young at heart themselves.  In the spirit of Don Bosco, they serve as excellent role models and are always ready to school you in soccer or sing Jesus, you’re my superhero.  We are thrilled to have the opportunity to serve with them.

I feel a blog post coming on, really.

Hello, friends.  We are home from mission orientation.  It was lovely.  We met incredible people and gained valuable information to guide us on our mission.  I fully intend to write all about it.  Nothing has come out of my pen yet, though.  I just wanted you to know I have not forgotten about you.

Let us pray together for our persecuted brethren.

Our brothers and sisters in the middle east continue to endure immense suffering.  Please pray for them and spread the word about what is happening.  Read a letter from a Dominican nun in Iraq here.

Friday funny

My suitcase is just inhaling and exhaling my belongings these days.

Oh, my goodness.  We leave for orientation next week.  None of this feels quite real yet.  Roughly this time next week, I will probably turn to Wesley and say, “We seem to be aboard a plane.  How did this happen?” 

We will spend three weeks at orientation learning about life on mission and Salesian spirituality.  We will spend one of those weeks serving at the local Salesian mission.  My stomach gets all fluttery when I think about it.  I have dreamed of doing this kind of work for almost my whole life.  I can’t believe I actually get to do it – with really awesome people…and with a husband!  I know none of this will be easy.  Much of it will be uncomfortable and probably even unpleasant at times.  We will be far away from family, friends, pizza, and ice cubes.  Yet, God is faithful.  He will be with us all the way.  After all, this is His idea anyway.

I had a funny experience the other day.  Backstory: When I was fundraising for my trip to India, I held a silent auction.  Several local businesses donated various items and gift cards to my cause.  I wrote thank you notes to each of them…and apparently only delivered some of them. 

Somewhere in all our moving of the past year, I found a stack of these notes.  Somehow, I never seemed to have them with me when I drove past these businesses during working hours.  I also was not entirely sure how to deliver such a tardy note without creating extremely awkward situations.  On Tuesday, I finally seized my opportunity.  (Thank you, unemployment, for allowing me to stroll Bardstown Road during the workday) 

I felt a bit nervous about how the people working there might react (About time, who the heck are you, please leave…).  All my worry was for naught.  At each place we visited, the first person I spoke to turned out to be the business owner.  I told them how their donations helped me get to India and, in turn, how that trip inspired Wesley to want to go on mission.  They were overjoyed to receive my peculiar message.  They told me they felt honored to have played a small part in this amazing journey.  One of them even kissed my hand.

I want you to feel this joy too.  Go thank someone for something.  Anything will do, really, as long as you truly mean it.  You might not realize the power of your humble appreciation.  I was once moved to tears by the kind words from someone working a drive thru window.

Granted, I am a little girl who cries a lot, but still… It matters.  Let me know what you decide to thank someone for.  It doesn’t have to be grandiose.  Just take a moment to let someone know how much you appreciate him or her.

plums in an orange-filled world

Our souls differ little from our bodies in terms of healing.  Both require time, proper care, and retirement from certain strenuous activities.  We are often tempted to return to our regular activities before we are ready.  Many times, after recovering from a stomach illness, I must remind myself not to eat chili when I begin to feel hungry again.  I should not walk several miles at a time while recovering from bronchitis. 

Similarly, I should not attend large Catholic family events without plenty of time to rest before and after.  Holy bellies and babies, Batman.

I felt little apprehension about assisting at our local Catholic homeschool conference.  I knew that it might be difficult to browse all the awesome books and have no use for them, but such is my life now.  I forgot about All. The. Babies.  I think the most common number of kids per family at this gathering was nine.  Almost every mother carried a newborn in a sling or would clearly do so soon.  Luckily, the members of this group are joyful, loving people.  They pass around babies like bowls of popcorn at a party.  Everyone reacted enthusiastically to the news of our upcoming mission.  Still, I needed some time to recover afterward.

Last weekend, my sister and I attended a beautiful wedding.  The new husband and wife beamed the entire time.  My date and I, however, battled strong feelings of cynicism.  I fully understand why the priest asks the couple if they are open to life.  Yet, is it necessary to mention children six times during the nuptial Mass?  Is it right to imply that babies are the couple’s purpose in life?  This is probably cranky brain talking, but I felt awfully left out, like I was somehow “less married” than the other couples present. 

Certainly, I find no fault in the couples who have been blessed with children.  I am thrilled and delighted that God has bestowed such adorable gifts upon them.  I do not wish this pain of barrenness on anyone.  I simply long for direction.  What is my purpose as a married woman?

My husband and I talked about this recently.  He expressed his desire to become involved in various ministries, since our marriage cannot bear its own fruit.  I had pondered the same course of action, but came to a different conclusion.  Originally, I thought we needed to get out and volunteer so we could prove that our marriage is fruitful.  I found little peace in this mental trajectory.  Finally, I uncovered the question that lay deep in my soul.

“Can I just be married and serve my husband selflessly and faithfully?  Is that enough?”

At length, and after much prayer, God answered me in the affirmative.  I told my husband that we do not have a fruitless marriage.  We were mistaken about what type of tree we are.  We tried for so long to make oranges like everyone else, only to find little purple plums on our branches.  What?!  Plums?!  I want oranges!!!  But, no.  Our marriage makes plums, and there is nothing we can do to change that.  Unfortunately, there are almost no recipes out there for plums. 

What I mean to say is that there is almost no pastoral advice readily available for those suffering through infertility.  I have scoured the Internet, books, and even real live people to little avail.  The blog-sphere has been the most helpful.  At long last, I found people who understood my experience.  These women offered me profound insights into finding peace on this rugged, dimly lit trail.  However, much of my comfort sprung from the fact that they were just as lost as I was.  I was not alone.  Their peace of mind and spirit was hard won.  They still need care and healing too.  Who will help them in this fight? 

When seeking truth, I like to go directly to the source.  In the case of spiritual trials, it seems most logical to ask the advice of Holy Mother Church.  I opened my Catechism to the section on married love and fruitfulness.  Unfortunately, I found footnotes in the tome longer than the section offered to guide the childless.  The section goes on for pages about the iconic nature of the love between spouses and their children.  It gives clear and concise wisdom to help us understand how to respect the dignity of these life-giving relationships.  At the end, there are about three sentences that basically say, ‘Couples who cannot have children matter too.’

That’s nice.  Pray, go on.

Books written for infertile Catholics are all penned by couples who eventually had children, either by birth or through adoption.  I need to know that my marriage still matters even though we may never have children at all.  I need examples of what fruitful love looks like without the visible manifestations of our love running around our house.  Even in other books written about marriage and family, those struggling with infertility are given a mere “P.S.” I am certainly glad the Church thinks my marriage is important, but what is it supposed to look like in daily life?  So many people tell me to stay busy, go to work, get a hobby.  I have no desire to be distracted.  I need real, lasting peace.  I need to know how to love my husband in the midst of this pain.  I need to know what to do with these dang plums. 

Then, when I do finally find a crumb of joy, I need to feel supported when I feel like the world is staring at me wondering why I am not killing myself trying to grow my family.  I need someone to respond to my worries that by being happy without children, we are living selfishly.  I need someone to listen to Don Bosco when he speaks about the importance of making our love visible.  It is imperative, he says, for people:

“…not only be loved, but feel that they are loved.”

If you have known me for more than five minutes, you know that I harbor no desire for cute placations.  I do not want pity.  I seek something real.  With this help, I want to love my husband better.  I long to serve my creator more joyfully.  I need to let go of the bitterness that clings to my heart.

My guess is that you are not a bishop or even a priest, and you are certainly not the Pope.  (I think.  That would be kind of amazing…but I digress.)  So, why am I spewing these needs of mine all over innocent lay people?  Because, I want you to maybe have a little understanding as to why I am floundering.  Why I don’t have many answers when people ask me questions about how I feel or what we are going to do.  Why I feel so angry and confused some times, and full of joy at others. 

God is so good, and He is carrying this weak little lamb.  Yet, He never intended us to do battle alone.  I want to be able to support others in my situation, but I may need someone to throw me a line first.  Pray with me that either I am completely missing what the Church already offers and can end my ramblings or that someone will break the silence and I no longer feel like this: