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....
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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 members 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 members 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.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Because I can
In the spirit of documenting places, especially places of unexpected grace, I thought I would document a small grace in an unexpected place. I opened up my laptop here in the Charlotte, NC, airport and found free internet access (Thanks, citizens of Charlotte!).
I'm on my way to a conference in Miami, where many of my most important friends and colleagues will be assembled. I'm looking forward to it. But for now, I need to get to work on my presentation!
I'm on my way to a conference in Miami, where many of my most important friends and colleagues will be assembled. I'm looking forward to it. But for now, I need to get to work on my presentation!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Superbad
Some friends and I watched the movie Superbad last night. Their husbands and some other guys had watched it last week, and we decided, despite warnings about its overly sexual language etc, that we wanted to watch it too.
Now, it wasn't the best movie I've ever seen, and it was saturated with all the worst aspects of an adolescent culture formed by pornography and soaked in alcohol. But, somehow in the midst of all that, friendship and love and even innocence shined through.
I found myself thinking of a storyline in one of my favorite movies, Love Actually. Two characters lighting stand-ins on a movie set. All of their early scenes find them naked in some sort of sex pose with one another. It's almost shocking enough to turn off the film. But their conversation begins with very awkward banter about traffic, moves into exchange of small stories and small kindnesses, and then, eventually, finds that strangely awkward moment where, naked in bed with her, he very haltingly stumbles through asking her to go for a drink after work. What is so intriguing about this storyline to me is that it shows pretty clearly how, in today's world, sex and nakedness do not necessarily mean intimacy and vulnerability. But, oddly enough, they don't mean that they can't develop, either.
In Superbad, something similar seems to be going on. It seemed to me that many of the characters were enacting cultural scripts that had to do with highly sexual language and action. That is to say, they were talking about enacting sexual fantasies, about what would happen with that girl when they got her drunk enough etc. But the reality of the thing was so much different. One girl turned out not to drink. Another was drunk, and pretty much up for anything, but when they got in bed a whole lotta workup ended up resulting in nothing much but, well, puke.
And the film pretty much ended with the two major male characters meeting their love interests randomly at the mall. And despite all the drunken bravado and overt, forward, sexual propositioning of the night before, they met up with awkward shyness.
It was a rather painful reminder to me, however, of this crazy world that our young people are growing up in, where sex isn't simply casual anymore, but moreover conversation about sex is so mainstream and so pornographic that they end up learning how to talk about trading sexual favors before they have learned how to ask someone to spend a little time just hanging out together at the mall. And, of course, that is superbad.
Now, it wasn't the best movie I've ever seen, and it was saturated with all the worst aspects of an adolescent culture formed by pornography and soaked in alcohol. But, somehow in the midst of all that, friendship and love and even innocence shined through.
I found myself thinking of a storyline in one of my favorite movies, Love Actually. Two characters lighting stand-ins on a movie set. All of their early scenes find them naked in some sort of sex pose with one another. It's almost shocking enough to turn off the film. But their conversation begins with very awkward banter about traffic, moves into exchange of small stories and small kindnesses, and then, eventually, finds that strangely awkward moment where, naked in bed with her, he very haltingly stumbles through asking her to go for a drink after work. What is so intriguing about this storyline to me is that it shows pretty clearly how, in today's world, sex and nakedness do not necessarily mean intimacy and vulnerability. But, oddly enough, they don't mean that they can't develop, either.
In Superbad, something similar seems to be going on. It seemed to me that many of the characters were enacting cultural scripts that had to do with highly sexual language and action. That is to say, they were talking about enacting sexual fantasies, about what would happen with that girl when they got her drunk enough etc. But the reality of the thing was so much different. One girl turned out not to drink. Another was drunk, and pretty much up for anything, but when they got in bed a whole lotta workup ended up resulting in nothing much but, well, puke.
And the film pretty much ended with the two major male characters meeting their love interests randomly at the mall. And despite all the drunken bravado and overt, forward, sexual propositioning of the night before, they met up with awkward shyness.
It was a rather painful reminder to me, however, of this crazy world that our young people are growing up in, where sex isn't simply casual anymore, but moreover conversation about sex is so mainstream and so pornographic that they end up learning how to talk about trading sexual favors before they have learned how to ask someone to spend a little time just hanging out together at the mall. And, of course, that is superbad.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
The Third Degree
Hello, friends.
I know it's been a while. And though I probably could go on for a while on this topic, I'm going to make a brief observation, sigh, and then share a couple of thoughts. Then I'll sigh again and sign off to go raise a glass to my own accomplishment here.
Today is my very last day with any claim to the title of "student." Tomorrow, I graduate and officially earn my third (and hopefully final) degree.
(Sigh.)
This milestone has past oddly in stages, as I haven't been in residence at the university for two years, as I actually turned in the dissertation a couple of months ago now, and defended it nearly a month ago. Graduation itself, which I am not attending, has seemed a mere formality. But tonight, perhaps in part due to the visit of a dear friend from my soon-to-be alma mater, I am surprisingly nostalgic and emotional. Strange.
(Deeper sigh.)
Clink.
I know it's been a while. And though I probably could go on for a while on this topic, I'm going to make a brief observation, sigh, and then share a couple of thoughts. Then I'll sigh again and sign off to go raise a glass to my own accomplishment here.
Today is my very last day with any claim to the title of "student." Tomorrow, I graduate and officially earn my third (and hopefully final) degree.
(Sigh.)
This milestone has past oddly in stages, as I haven't been in residence at the university for two years, as I actually turned in the dissertation a couple of months ago now, and defended it nearly a month ago. Graduation itself, which I am not attending, has seemed a mere formality. But tonight, perhaps in part due to the visit of a dear friend from my soon-to-be alma mater, I am surprisingly nostalgic and emotional. Strange.
(Deeper sigh.)
Clink.
Monday, April 28, 2008
I'm back
OK, as promised and by popular demand, I'm going to start blogging again. The dissertation is now complete and defended. All went well with that.
I'm now swimming in the midst of a pile of long-delayed grading as well as slogging through what seems to be the obligatory post-stress illness (just an annoying little sinus thing that keeps everything foggy).
There is surprisingly little to say at this point. Just trying to get through to the end of the semester. I'm incredibly relieved to be done with grad school. But it will be nice to put this whole semester behind me.
By the way, last class day: Thursday.
I'm now swimming in the midst of a pile of long-delayed grading as well as slogging through what seems to be the obligatory post-stress illness (just an annoying little sinus thing that keeps everything foggy).
There is surprisingly little to say at this point. Just trying to get through to the end of the semester. I'm incredibly relieved to be done with grad school. But it will be nice to put this whole semester behind me.
By the way, last class day: Thursday.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Small update
Don't get too excited or think that I'm back to even the sporadic blogging that was, for a time, semi-regular, but I thought I would post this here. My dissertation needs an intro, a conclusion, some formatting work and a bibliography. Still a lot of work to be done, but I'll be defending this puppy in mid-April. And then maybe I'll blog here again!
Monday, January 21, 2008
How many words is this worth?
This picture just captures something about my life right now, something that defies expression but is somewhere in the direction of my dissertation going to the dogs. Anyway, it makes me laugh. I like how this somehow reverses our life together; it seems as though I have disturbed her in the middle of her reading.
Of course, the picture I really wanted was ruined in finding the camera: dog sleeping on book.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
NPR weighs in
As most of you know, I'm not blogging much as other writing must take precedence right now. But I do have a couple of things to say quickly.
Some of you may have heard it, but if not, NPR did a story on the Dominicans and the alleged pedophile they placed at our parish for a while. You can find both text and audio here.
Check the October archives for some of my earlier commentary. I have a couple things to add. The Dominican provincial has really been trying to do right by the parish, and has been in residence here (more or less) since the week before Thanksgiving. He can preach and he strikes me as a holy man and a good priest. I'm afraid, though, that he will fail in the end to really do right by the people his brothers have hurt. I mean not simply the (alleged) pedophile but also all the folks who lived with him, who supervised him, or who had administrative responsibilities for him. The pattern I see is a tendancy to protect the brother and the Order, even at the expense of children, the truth, and the Gospel. It actually saddens me greatly. I think I have more respect for this man than for most priests, most people, I have met. And yet I think he has been a part of the problem and I think he will likely--despite intentions to the contrary--remain so.
Let me be clear: I do think that there is a very real desire to deal with the problem of pedophilia. But what I have seen in reading some of the depositions attached to the legal proceedings related to Fr. Cote indicates to me that there are very deep patterns of prioritizing a brother's input and needs and marginalizing lay persons and their concerns. I think there is a system which (contrary to the stated aims of religious life) encourages one brother to look the other way in the face of his brother's shortcomings/issues/sins, because, after all, then he can look the other way if (when!) he notices those of the first. I think the good friars, like the rest of us, find it hard to live Christian community in this age of "live and let live."
In the depositions it was clear that there were a few friars and a few lay persons who really tried to step up and say something. And there were friars, diocesan staff, and lay persons who ignored the stated concerns, missed the warning signs, amd dismissed or marginalized the folks who spoke up.
I wish I could somehow bring together in the same room some of my friends who think I should leave the Catholic Church and/or the Dominican institutions I've associated myself with over all of this with some of the good Dominicans I know. I wish that they could see how deeply this shakes their credibility, how important it is that they respond not just with the "justice" that the legal system demands but with that deeper justice which is enlivened by charity. I want to see them give all involved their due, but more than that, I want to see their love of the Gospel, their love of the people they are called to serve (especially the children), and their willingness to do something radical to show that love. I'm not sure what that would be, but I sure do wish that the responses (on all sides) to clergy sex abuse involved more love and fewer lawyers.
Some of you may have heard it, but if not, NPR did a story on the Dominicans and the alleged pedophile they placed at our parish for a while. You can find both text and audio here.
Check the October archives for some of my earlier commentary. I have a couple things to add. The Dominican provincial has really been trying to do right by the parish, and has been in residence here (more or less) since the week before Thanksgiving. He can preach and he strikes me as a holy man and a good priest. I'm afraid, though, that he will fail in the end to really do right by the people his brothers have hurt. I mean not simply the (alleged) pedophile but also all the folks who lived with him, who supervised him, or who had administrative responsibilities for him. The pattern I see is a tendancy to protect the brother and the Order, even at the expense of children, the truth, and the Gospel. It actually saddens me greatly. I think I have more respect for this man than for most priests, most people, I have met. And yet I think he has been a part of the problem and I think he will likely--despite intentions to the contrary--remain so.
Let me be clear: I do think that there is a very real desire to deal with the problem of pedophilia. But what I have seen in reading some of the depositions attached to the legal proceedings related to Fr. Cote indicates to me that there are very deep patterns of prioritizing a brother's input and needs and marginalizing lay persons and their concerns. I think there is a system which (contrary to the stated aims of religious life) encourages one brother to look the other way in the face of his brother's shortcomings/issues/sins, because, after all, then he can look the other way if (when!) he notices those of the first. I think the good friars, like the rest of us, find it hard to live Christian community in this age of "live and let live."
In the depositions it was clear that there were a few friars and a few lay persons who really tried to step up and say something. And there were friars, diocesan staff, and lay persons who ignored the stated concerns, missed the warning signs, amd dismissed or marginalized the folks who spoke up.
I wish I could somehow bring together in the same room some of my friends who think I should leave the Catholic Church and/or the Dominican institutions I've associated myself with over all of this with some of the good Dominicans I know. I wish that they could see how deeply this shakes their credibility, how important it is that they respond not just with the "justice" that the legal system demands but with that deeper justice which is enlivened by charity. I want to see them give all involved their due, but more than that, I want to see their love of the Gospel, their love of the people they are called to serve (especially the children), and their willingness to do something radical to show that love. I'm not sure what that would be, but I sure do wish that the responses (on all sides) to clergy sex abuse involved more love and fewer lawyers.
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