I know. I need to blog more.
Here are two quick stories about encountering Christ at play in our world.
One story starts, more or less, on Facebook. My friend Erik, whose life overlapped mine for both undergraduate and masters work, found me on Facebook a couple months ago. He lives less than an hour away from me now, and we talked about getting together sometime, but he had this interesting suggestion: he was going to be going on a retreat on Cape Cod the first weekend of February. Why didn't I come along? So I did, and I reconnected with Erik and some other old friends, and met some new ones. The theme of the retreat? "Christ in Ten Thousand Places." Very nice. Restored my desire to try to look for and write about all the places Christ is playing in my life. And the Cape was beautiful!
So this weekend, I was back at home in my own parish, and undertaking my second time serving as a eucharistic minister. (I've done so before, but it's been years!) I was struck by the sensation of repeating the phrase "The Body of Christ" as I looked at face after face. "...for Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his / To the Father through the features of men’s faces." Not hard to see Christ there!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Virtual Reunions
I've been found by and been finding lots of old friends on Facebook lately. It's wonderful, and a more than a little strange. It's viral how it happens. This latest round, best I can tell, went like this.
My church youth group in high school did a camping/adventure trip every summer. I honestly don't quite remember exactly how many years I went, but I think I went, first as a kid and then as a leader, probably every summer but one from the time I was a junior in high school to the time I was a junior in college.
Anyway, so a guy I hadn't seen in at least 15 years puts up a group photo of about 15 of us taken just before we went white water rafting. He tags a couple of folks he's still in touch with, and then they tag a couple more, and then they start looking for the ones they don't know yet. One of them found me, friended me, and tagged me. Then all of a sudden we're all "Facebook friends," and I'm part of the group looking for some others who are missing. We find them. More connections. And suddenly, I'm reunited with this entire group of people that really significantly shaped who I am, how I see myself, and the world, and especially God and church, things that have become very important to me.
I spent more than 6 hours on the phone this weekend with three people that I haven't seen in years. One of them, I spoke to about 5 years ago. The other two, I don't think I've seen or spoken to in more than fifteen years. But these 3 people probably knew me better than anyone in the world from the time I was about 16 to 21 years old.
Strange how such a random set of connections can open a door into the past, into memories and feelings and thoughts, into a sense of self lost and found. My head is still spinning a bit with the wonder of God's providence in the whole thing. We come into each other's lives for a time and we give and receive what we have to give and need to receive. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would not be who I am had these friends not crossed my path 20 years ago. How does one say thank you for such profound gifts?
For now, it is enough to cherish the memories, to embrace the invitation to relish a bit what we meant to one another, how we helped one another to give and to grow. And whither then? I cannot say....
My church youth group in high school did a camping/adventure trip every summer. I honestly don't quite remember exactly how many years I went, but I think I went, first as a kid and then as a leader, probably every summer but one from the time I was a junior in high school to the time I was a junior in college.
Anyway, so a guy I hadn't seen in at least 15 years puts up a group photo of about 15 of us taken just before we went white water rafting. He tags a couple of folks he's still in touch with, and then they tag a couple more, and then they start looking for the ones they don't know yet. One of them found me, friended me, and tagged me. Then all of a sudden we're all "Facebook friends," and I'm part of the group looking for some others who are missing. We find them. More connections. And suddenly, I'm reunited with this entire group of people that really significantly shaped who I am, how I see myself, and the world, and especially God and church, things that have become very important to me.
I spent more than 6 hours on the phone this weekend with three people that I haven't seen in years. One of them, I spoke to about 5 years ago. The other two, I don't think I've seen or spoken to in more than fifteen years. But these 3 people probably knew me better than anyone in the world from the time I was about 16 to 21 years old.
Strange how such a random set of connections can open a door into the past, into memories and feelings and thoughts, into a sense of self lost and found. My head is still spinning a bit with the wonder of God's providence in the whole thing. We come into each other's lives for a time and we give and receive what we have to give and need to receive. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would not be who I am had these friends not crossed my path 20 years ago. How does one say thank you for such profound gifts?
For now, it is enough to cherish the memories, to embrace the invitation to relish a bit what we meant to one another, how we helped one another to give and to grow. And whither then? I cannot say....
Monday, December 08, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Confessions of a bad blogger
I have no excuses, really. At least no really compelling ones. I could tell you about the sporadic nature of the internet at my house, and how it is most reliable on the porch and how it's a bit too cold out to comfortably type on the porch. Or how my google-identity has become a little confused, so sometimes I'm logged into another account and not authorized to publish here.
But mostly I'm finding it hard to walk the line between saying enough to make it worth my while and yours and saying far too much than I have time for. And so, silence.
Tonight, I'm breaking the silence from the warmth of my office. Much nicer.
I find, however, that I don't have much to say. It is, yet again, that strange time of year where the feeling of fall and of the passing away of the things of this world comes upon me. My father died 6 years ago this October--hard to believe it's been so long. My mom's birthday was last week; she would have been 67. And now, the holidays begin to come upon us, more than a little bittersweet.
I think, though, that it will be good for my soul to try to blog again; I keep being reminded that people do in fact read these musings. So, stay tuned, and I'll see what I can do.
But mostly I'm finding it hard to walk the line between saying enough to make it worth my while and yours and saying far too much than I have time for. And so, silence.
Tonight, I'm breaking the silence from the warmth of my office. Much nicer.
I find, however, that I don't have much to say. It is, yet again, that strange time of year where the feeling of fall and of the passing away of the things of this world comes upon me. My father died 6 years ago this October--hard to believe it's been so long. My mom's birthday was last week; she would have been 67. And now, the holidays begin to come upon us, more than a little bittersweet.
I think, though, that it will be good for my soul to try to blog again; I keep being reminded that people do in fact read these musings. So, stay tuned, and I'll see what I can do.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Strange and Wonderful Gift
(Thanks to Jim for the support and encouragement to write. I think you'll like this one.)
One of the promises I made to myself in grad school was that if I ever finished, I would find a way to get involved with an organization called NAMI when I did. NAMI is the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Readers of this blog know that mental illness shapes my life in some significant ways, largely through my brother Paul who has a severe persistent case of schizo-affective disorder.
I have vague memories of my parents talking about NAMI, but what I remember more than anything is all the NAMI folks showing up to their funerals, and, even more so, after my dad died folks from NAMI would email and call to let me know that they'd seen Paul somewhere and he was doing okay. NAMI folks in North Carolina helped me find care and housing for Paul when I had to move him there, and NAMI-RI gave me support and information when I came here with Paul. And now, finally, I'm giving back--in two ways. And you can help with one of them.
First, I want to tell you about NAMI Family-to-Family. This is a program taught by family memebers of folks with mental illness for family members of mental illness. It used to be called Journey of Hope, and my mom took the class. I had the opportunity a couple of weeks ago to take the training session, and now I'm helping to teach the class. It's funny, because although there is a lot of helpful information to present, it seems like the real gift of the class is connecting people with others who have similar stories. Imagine sitting in a room of about 20 people and watching a couple of youngish folks who are there because their spouses have been diagnosed with bipolar listening to a couple married almost 50 years talk about having lived through the onset of the wife's bipolar disorder 30 years before; they are coming to class now out of a shared concern for another family member. Think of watching tears in a young wife's eyes as she looks at this older couple and says (very quietly) "Maybe there is hope for my marriage." NAMI connects people like this. My co-teachers and I mostly show up and watch it happen, and they thank us for it like we did something. It's a gift and a blessing.
The second way I'm getting involved in NAMI is that I am captaining a team for their main fundraiser, NAMI Walks. The team is called Paul's Pals, in honor of my brother. We'll have about 15 people walking with us this Saturday. Most of our walkers are colleagues of mine at work, though the Coolpeople (my friends from grad school and former housemates!) will be joining us, and a few of my new NAMI Family to Family friends as well. If you can spare a little cash in these hard times, head over the the Paul's Pals team site and give a little something. And if you have friends looking for a great cause to support with their charitable giving, or if you know someone who would benefit from knowing about NAMI and some of its programs and services, please send this post along.
It's strange and wonderful to be getting involved in these ways. Since August of 2003, when I moved Paul to North Carolina, that relationship really has defined me in some significant ways. Often, that felt like a burden and a distraction from what I needed to be doing. It is, of course, also a gift. It is strange and wonderful to find myself in roles and relationships where I really do remember what a gift it is to be Paul's sister. Not an easy gift, but gift indeed.
One of the promises I made to myself in grad school was that if I ever finished, I would find a way to get involved with an organization called NAMI when I did. NAMI is the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Readers of this blog know that mental illness shapes my life in some significant ways, largely through my brother Paul who has a severe persistent case of schizo-affective disorder.
I have vague memories of my parents talking about NAMI, but what I remember more than anything is all the NAMI folks showing up to their funerals, and, even more so, after my dad died folks from NAMI would email and call to let me know that they'd seen Paul somewhere and he was doing okay. NAMI folks in North Carolina helped me find care and housing for Paul when I had to move him there, and NAMI-RI gave me support and information when I came here with Paul. And now, finally, I'm giving back--in two ways. And you can help with one of them.
First, I want to tell you about NAMI Family-to-Family. This is a program taught by family memebers of folks with mental illness for family members of mental illness. It used to be called Journey of Hope, and my mom took the class. I had the opportunity a couple of weeks ago to take the training session, and now I'm helping to teach the class. It's funny, because although there is a lot of helpful information to present, it seems like the real gift of the class is connecting people with others who have similar stories. Imagine sitting in a room of about 20 people and watching a couple of youngish folks who are there because their spouses have been diagnosed with bipolar listening to a couple married almost 50 years talk about having lived through the onset of the wife's bipolar disorder 30 years before; they are coming to class now out of a shared concern for another family member. Think of watching tears in a young wife's eyes as she looks at this older couple and says (very quietly) "Maybe there is hope for my marriage." NAMI connects people like this. My co-teachers and I mostly show up and watch it happen, and they thank us for it like we did something. It's a gift and a blessing.
The second way I'm getting involved in NAMI is that I am captaining a team for their main fundraiser, NAMI Walks. The team is called Paul's Pals, in honor of my brother. We'll have about 15 people walking with us this Saturday. Most of our walkers are colleagues of mine at work, though the Coolpeople (my friends from grad school and former housemates!) will be joining us, and a few of my new NAMI Family to Family friends as well. If you can spare a little cash in these hard times, head over the the Paul's Pals team site and give a little something. And if you have friends looking for a great cause to support with their charitable giving, or if you know someone who would benefit from knowing about NAMI and some of its programs and services, please send this post along.
It's strange and wonderful to be getting involved in these ways. Since August of 2003, when I moved Paul to North Carolina, that relationship really has defined me in some significant ways. Often, that felt like a burden and a distraction from what I needed to be doing. It is, of course, also a gift. It is strange and wonderful to find myself in roles and relationships where I really do remember what a gift it is to be Paul's sister. Not an easy gift, but gift indeed.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
A step in the right direction
Well, the (alleged) pedophile who caused so much trouble in our parish, for the province, and, especially to a young man in Maryland and (I fear) several other young men and their families, has turned himself in. A warrant was issued for his arrest. Pray for justice and peace for all concerned. The local news report (Maryland/DC area) can be viewed here.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
10, 000 Saints
I realized tonight that, in the spirit of the name of my blog, it was time to blog about the places in my current life. I am teaching a summer class at St. John's University in Minnesota. And I have to say that I love the place names here. Most Catholic colleges and universities where I have been name a few buildings after saints and such, but most end up being named after donors or past presidents.
I'm living in Virgil Michel (a twentieth century Benedictine instrumental in the liturgical movement and quite influential upon Dorothy Day). My office is in St. Luke. My class meets in Emmaus, which means that I walk the road to Emmaus each morning. Along the way, I see St. Patrick Hall, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Benet, and St. Luke, as well as the Liturgical Press.
Anyway, this delights me. The land of 10, 000 lakes is also a land of many saints. I like that.
I'm living in Virgil Michel (a twentieth century Benedictine instrumental in the liturgical movement and quite influential upon Dorothy Day). My office is in St. Luke. My class meets in Emmaus, which means that I walk the road to Emmaus each morning. Along the way, I see St. Patrick Hall, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Benet, and St. Luke, as well as the Liturgical Press.
Anyway, this delights me. The land of 10, 000 lakes is also a land of many saints. I like that.
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