One Year!

A year ago today, I started this blog, announcing with joy and hope my plans to intern with pro-life groups and then head out to Saint Louis for the Vincentian Service Corps. One the one year anniversary of this occasion, I could reflect on this year so far... or I could post on what comes next.

Next year, I am heading back to my alma mater to work for the campus ministry. It's a year-long position, during which I will help with all things Catholic Campus Ministry. It will be my first attempt at living in the "Real World" of financial responsibility and full adulthood. More importantly, it will be a great chance to explore even further where God wants me ultimately in life.

After my year as Young Adult Campus Minister, grad school is on my horizon. I have been accepted into Franciscan University at Steubenville and Catholic University of America. So now I have to start the process of asking to defer enrollment.

As it goes right now, I have a future and a hope... the same words I used a year ago today.

Relay for Life

This Friday was the UMSL Relay for Life. First of all, thank you to all of my readership who helped (financially or with prayers) -- I know you guys are reading this. A huge thanks!

This Relay was originally scheduled as a 12-hour event, although Relays are often up to 24 hours. However, Thursday afternoon, the UMSL Relay committee brought the event indoors and changed the time to only six hours, due to the severe thunderstorms that were predicted. While I wish the Relay had been longer and out of doors, they made a wise decision, and I felt for the committee, making all these last-minute changes.

The idea behind the Relay, for those of my readers who did not hear about it already, is that you have a team that raises money for the American Cancer Society. The team then camps out around a track and relays -- has at least one team member walking the track at all points in time. The host provides music and fun, but also facilitates more serious moments, such as the luminaria, where everyone pauses to remember those who have lost the battle and support those who are battling cancer.

Ana and I arrived first to stake out a campsite. The evening started slowly as we... waited. Eventually, however, the rest of the 6 pack arrived. We had figured that we'd all start out together, and then take turns back at our table to eat, rest, etc. Instead, we found that we all just kept going. We walked the inside of the student center: around its center escalators, down one hallway and back, down a second hallway and back, repeat. A talented DJ blasted music from the stage on the lower floor. The ends of the hallways often lost the music, and a couple guitarists down one created a sort of musical schizophrenia that bothered me at first, but that I got used to.

As it turns out, we didn't drop downstairs one by one as we got tired. Instead, we kept walking, skipping, and dancing down the hallways, gaining energy from the music and from each other. In case you ever decide to try it, the Electric Slide is a bit of a challenge to do while you're walking down a hallway. We ran piggy-back, we played war, we salsa-ed. We all kept going -- for the entire 6 hours.

I enjoyed the dancing, upbeat bits more than the somber bits. Not just because the somber bits were, of course, less "fun," but because the ceremony of them fell a little flat. Luminaries don't light up the same way with electric tea lights, inside, and a "lap of silence" doesn't have the effect of silence if there is music, however contemplative.

When we left for home, I was exhausted. When we got home, I realized that as crazy as I had been for walking for 6 hours, I made the right choice in choosing not to sit down. My feet had the chance to tell me exactly how much they hated me for the long walk.

Criticism

Spoiler Alert : If you haven't read Lord of the Flies and don't want to know anything about it, stop reading.

My 8th graders have been reading Lord of the Flies in small groups. For most of the time, I haven't been sure how much they are actually taking in, and how many connections they are making between what we read one day and the next. At the end of last week, we got to the scene where Simon talks to the Lord of the Flies and then the scene where Simon dies. For those of you who need a refresher course (or have never read the novel), the boys trapped on the island fear a shapeless "beast" who haunts the island. A dead parachuter ends up dropping onto the island, getting the parachute tangled in a manner that, when the boys see him in the dark, he looks like a monster.

Simon, the only boy who is not turning savage, discovers that the parachuter is not a beast and loosens his tangle. Unfortunately, when he comes out to tell the other boys, they are locked in a wild "dance" which ends in Simon's death. As Simon is beaten to death, the parachuter is swept off the island and into the ocean.

When we read this scene in class (with an italicized announcement from me, THIS IS AN IMPORTANT SCENE!), one of my kids got it! He understood and explained the significance of the two events happening together. Then, this week, when we read about the way the boys split into tribes afterwards, another student traced the tribal lines to events at the beginning of the book -- something I hadn't even noticed.

I am so proud of my students for this. At the beginning of the year, I despaired of them ever learning critical thought. Now, at least some of them have demonstrated it!

A Whirlwind Tour

I feel that I should post something about my trip home this weekend. From Friday to Sunday, I saw everywhere I call home : St. Louis, my alma mater, and northern VA (the order I saw them, not order of importance). I saw my many different families : my 6 pack here who saw me off, my apartment-mates (and good friends) from last year, my Encounter with Christ retreat team, friends from high school youth group, and mine own biological kin. I came home to celebrate the marriage of two friends who went to school in Richmond. The wedding was beautiful and the reception so much fun.

That being said, I can't think of an anecdote or theme to encapsulate the weekend, so here is a post stating that I was home in VA and now am home in St. Louis.

Why People Are Awesome

I generally try to keep posts to one anecdote, topic, or theme, for ease of reading and my own organizational quirks. However, in this post, I plan to relate several incidents. Note the title: that is my theme.

In this past week, I've had some very positive interactions with people and some disconcertingly negative ones. We (as a culture? as a species?) tend to relate the negative more than the positive, so I want to combat this trend by sharing some warm-fuzzies.

First, the car mirror. Ana's side view mirror went missing a few months ago. She was told that they sometimes pop out in the cold, and she ordered a new one from AutoZone. Long short, she had to order a new mirror fixture, which we took home only to discover that pliers wouldn't do the job of undoing the bolts; we needed a wrench, which we (sadly) lack.

So the mirror sat in the back of the car for the course of several weeks, waiting. When Ana and returned to AutoZone this week for a battery, the man working there was so friendly and helpful that when he told us, "Let us know if there's any other way we can help you." Ana asked for a hand with the mirror. Although Auto Zone doesn't do body work, he pulled out some wrenches and pulled off the mirror for her. Ana joked about us being a couple of helpless girls, and he told us that didn't matter. "You had me sold at the volunteer line," he said.

Incident 2 is much shorter. I was in the grocery store, buying travel-sized toothpaste and contact solution. The self-checkout was broken, and the express lane was closed. With a sigh, I took my place behind a woman with a large purchase, noting to Ana that it was the best line -- which it was. The lady in front of me looked back, saw my two items, and asked, "Is that all you have in your hand?" I nodded yes. "Go ahead," she said. With enthusiastic gratitude, I stepped up in line, given so much joy by her kindness.

Finally, at the airport, I stood in line for a bagel. The couple ahead of me had some sort of gift certificate or traveler's check, and he was trying to get rid of $1.47 on it. He kept trying to do so by tipping or buying something for the cashier, and she kept deflecting him with a smile. He wasn't hitting on her; his girlfriend was with him. It was just a general kindness. And the cashier had admirable customer service skills, even as she turned to wait on me and hunt for the specific type of bagel I wanted. Her smile made my day!

In Which I Learn How to Jump a Car

In preparation for the garden work this weekend, Joshua took me out shopping to Lowe's, and Ana tagged along for the ride. Or rather, since Joshua's car wasn't clean enough for three people, she drove along for us.

It was a warm sunny day with blue skies, so how could it be anything but a relaxing trip as we rolled down I-64 with the windows down and country music up? Then we hung out in the section of Lowe's where the smells make me think of home and of my dad. We picked out seeds for plants, gloves for hands, chicken wire for compost (so much joy!), and lumber for garden beds.

I've spent enough time in gardens to feel the competence of familiarity in the lawn and garden section; yet, in the company of a "master gardener" (I have no idea what that means), I knew enough to know my ignorance. So I had the fun combination of learning about something I already love.

In addition to all the things we bought right then and there, we also ordered a huge amount of dirt -- several different kinds. I learned that when you buy more dirt than will fit in the bed of a pick-up truck, let alone a two door sedan, you can have Lowe's deliver it.

After a long time at customer service to arrange tax-exempt information and delivery details, we loaded up Ana's car. We hopped in -- she turned the key -- and the engine fluttered like a large insect trying to take off in flight. Ana tried again and got the same reaction from her engine.

After a phone call to her father, which made us worry that it wasn't the battery, we described the problem to a passing stranger, who listened and said it sounded like the battery. Turns out, Lowe's is a decent place to break down, because they let Ana borrow jumper cables. An older man in a pick-up truck jumped us.

The battery hadn't just run down; it was dead, and we had to get a jump to leave school that day too. By the time we'd watched it twice, I think Ana and I both pretty much learned how to jump-start a car. In fact, we probably could have managed it the second time on our own, but once again, a man in a pick-up truck helped the damsels in distress, and how could we take that away?

Getting My Hands Dirty Again

Over the past 2 or 3 weeks, I have started my favorite project yet at the school -- a garden! Louise (of dog treat fame) networked us with a young man who was looking to start a gardening/sustainability project at a school. I sat in on his first meeting with my boss and asked for the project. Over the past 5 years, I have missed playing in the dirt -- as much grief as I have my dad about helping outside, I love gardening and being close to the earth.

Joshua (you guessed it -- another pseudonym) helped me get started with some easy indoor projects --earthworm composting, quick-growing indoor greens -- to give the kids something to do right away. But the big project is the outdoor garden, where we will grow beans, popcorn, pumpkins, tomatoes, herbs, and other food produce to eat at school and teach nutrition and a love of dirt. This weekend (while I'm in Virginia) a veritable army of volunteer (it's a father-son event) plus Joshua and Ana are digging the ground and putting in soil to have garden beds ready to plant Monday!

When we started the indoor projects, some of the kids were squeamish about getting their hands in the dirt. They think it's gross that I'll touch potting soil with my bare hands -- while I can't wait to get dirt under my nails outside. A seventh grader had a moment of triumph when she picked up an earthworm while wearing a latex glove. A sixth grader used all her courage to poke one worm quickly with the tip of one finger. But my favorite was the 7th grade girl who at the end of her first class had her hands as dirty from potting soil as my own.

Story Time

Once upon a time, a little girl lived with her father. She had a string of plastic pearls which she loved very much. They were beautiful pearls and she wore them all the time. Every night, her daddy would come to put her to bed, and she would fall asleep wearing those plastic pearls. Every night, however, as he was tucking her in, her father would say,

"Honey, you know I love you?"

"Yes, Daddy," she would say, "and I love you too."

"Do you trust me, honey?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"May I have your plastic pearls?"

"Oh no, Daddy, not my pearls!" she would answer.

This sequence happened night after night for days, for weeks, for years. Eventually, when the little girl was not so little anymore, the story changed:

"Honey, you know I love you."

"Yes, Daddy. I love you too."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Daddy, of course I do."

"Then, honey, may I have your plastic pearls?"

The little girl may have been older and bigger, but she still loved that strand of plastic pearls. Still, her daddy had asked for them -- had wanted them from her for years. So, with a huge sigh and much reluctance, the girl took them off her neck and handed them to her father.

Her father reached into his pocket and gave her in exchange, a strand of real pearls that he had been carrying for years, waiting to give to her.

Christopher West ended the story by asking : What "plastic pearls" are you clinging to?

It Is No Coincidence That Ephesians 6 Follows Ephesians 5

Can you believe that I am still getting Christopher West summaries on here? (By the way, if you are my Facebook friend, you can see him -- I just posted a picture from the second night on Facebook.)

At this point, having just learned that God loves us with a spousal love, that He desires to marry us, and that we can reach union with Him in the Eucharist, we're pretty pumped. After all, if God wants us that badly, what can stand in the way?

Christopher West told us to write down the next sentence he was going to say. It was the most profound thing he was going to say all three nights. Ready? "It is no coincidence that Ephesians 6... follow Ephesians 5." The whole room giggled, self included, but I still jotted it down. Christopher went on to explain that Ephesians 5 is about marriage, the union between man and woman and the union between Christ and the Church. Ephesians 6? Battle. "Put on the armor of God," St. Paul tells us. When we live in union with God, the enemy does not like it and will use all his power to stop it. If our sexuality can point us so strongly towards heaven, then Satan will attack our sexuality. He creates fracture, rupture -- in allegorical terms, divorce.

When you want someone to trust you, you tell them something that is true. I have to admit, this point hit home for me. If there is one thing my experience of sexuality in this world has confirmed, it is that it is broken, fractured, dysfunctional -- not what it should be. So of course, I started listening very hard, in hopes that the next talk would convince me that this teaching held the answer of what it should be.

"This teaching," Christopher West now explained, focused on two questions that ground the two parts of JPII's teaching : 1) What does it mean to be human? and 2) How do I live my life in a way that brings true happiness? Under each question there are three sections :

1) Meaning of our humanity

-Our origin (Creation)

-Our history (Fall and Redemption)

-Our destiny (Resurrection)

2) Living in true happiness

-Celibacy for the Kingdom

-Marriage as a Sacrament

-The Language of Sexual Love

A disclaimer if you are intensely interested in the 2nd question : Christopher answered that one night three, the night that I could not make it the talk. So when I get to the end of my notes, I might read the workbook he gave us and try to give an overview of those points, but that's a maybe and won't be as detailed as what I actually heard.

To Live Would Be

We are an Easter people. The Pope has said this. My principal says this every time he stands in front of the school. Liz quoted Augustine saying it on her blog. It's true.

If you really pay attention to the Catholic Church, it's obvious that we are. The essential Liturgy of the Church, the Mass, changes for three days at Easter time. We bring out bells, incense, fire, water, lights, darkness, processions, and music like nobody's business. We celebrate Easter in highest form for not one but 8 days -- and then carry on for 42 more days before our season finally comes to an end. Even during penitential seasons, Sundays merit a break -- because every Sunday represents an Easter moment.

That's how we show it. But what does it mean?

It relates to the title of this blog. (Yes, I know it's Peter Pan.) "I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly," Jesus says. Easter isn't a fluffy holiday about jelly beans (yum!) and a bunny and the arrival of spring. It's about the action that made life meaningful. Without Easter, to live won't be "an awfully big adventure." Without Easter, life is just about coasting along until death catches up with us. With Easter, to live is an awfully big adventure. And Peter Pan's words in the movie ("to live would be an awfully big adventure") relate beautifully to his words in the novel : "to die would be an awfully big adventure."

Death was the end of life. The separation of body and spirit, the taking away of what (remember Theology of the Body?) makes us human. The sin of Adam and Eve won that end for us.

Yet priests everywhere sang in the Exultet last night : "Oh happy fault! O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!" We are an Easter people because we live according to that redemption, rather than according to that death. Body and soul may be separated, but we believe in the Resurrection of Christ and because of that, the resurrection of our own bodies. We also believe in death to an existence rooted in sin and life in Christ in the here and now -- life and death are bound up together. And so our Easter salvation encompasses all that we are : in it we live and move and have our being.

Triduum, Day 1

As today is Good Friday, yesterday was (of course) Holy Thursday. I attended the service at Pius V, as usual. I knew two things coming in. 1) Pius knows how to do liturgy. Their Masses are reverent without sliding into the inaccessible. 2) This Triduum would be different from the four(ish) years of CCM Triduum. And Holy Thursday, with its Eucharistic procession, would be the most different of all.

Both true. Pius was no CCM, but it was far enough from it that it could be a beautiful expression of the same liturgy. We started with a presentation of the Holy Oils, by a Sister who ministers to the ill, a woman who helps with RCIA, and a boy who's about to be confirmed. The Gloria burst forth with much joy, and the congregation had been invited to bring bells. (Em, Triss, and I had forgotten them.) So the burst of joy not only came from the choir and the voices of the people, but all the noise they could make.

The liturgy continued as per normal Mass until after the homily. Rather than inviting 12 people forward as representative of the congregation and symbolic of the Apostles, Father invited anyone who wished to come forward and have their feet washed, or wash a loved one's feet. To my surprise, only a small portion of the congregation came forward. While I like the idea that anyone can have his or her feet washed, the symbol of unity fell short, because so few people came forward. I felt a little awkward going back to my pew when I realized that I was one of only a handful who had left.

After the footwashing and subsequent petitions, the congregation brought forward Rice Bowls, offerings for Haiti, and offerings for the St. Vincent de Paul food pantry. Instead of baskets passed around, people approached the altar, making an act of offering that trumps any offertory procession. These gifts remained in front of the altar for the rest of the liturgy.

The Liturgy of the Eucharist stood as it usually does in the Church -- not much can change there, but Father did chant parts, giving it the feeling of high offering. When I came up for communion, the presence of the offering and the footwashing basins, pitchers, and towels struck me. The fact that nothing had been removed emphasized the connectedness of it all -- our services of love, our servanthood, our physical offerings, our spiritual offerings, and our unity in the Body of Christ -- and how it all centers on and springs from this Sacrifice that is the Eucharist and is the Cross.

After communion, Father incensed the Host (there was incense through the whole service -- one of the best parts of the Triduum!) and processed it to the altar of repose at the rear of the church. Immediately afterwards, a host of ministers came forward to strip the altar, so that the church darkened and emptied itself with the congregation still present. I've never seen the stripping of the altar performed like that, but since I could not participate in the stripping this year, it made me feel more complete, like I had a greater share in the liturgy.

We left a silent empty church. I hate the bareness of it -- there is nothing lonelier than a stripped altar, standing silent vigil over an empty, open tabernacle, its candle extinguished and taken away.

"They Call Me a Communist"

It has been a while since last I commented on Stephen Colbert. Unfortunately, the internet in our house streams his show very slowly, so it takes a long time to load and, even then, plays haltingly. However, when Sarah, who lived here last year, posted a clip regarding Catholic Social Teaching, I had to watch it.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Glenn Beck Attacks Social Justice - James Martin
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Reform

Glenn Beck apparently commented (some weeks ago now) that Catholics should keep an eye out for the words "social justice," and if their priest preaches it, they should take it up to the bishop -- as if the bishop would object! Colbert also showed a clip of Beck comparing those who support Catholic social teaching to communists and Nazis.

After going through his usual satirical spiel, Colbert brings in a Jesuit priest to discuss the matter. If CST is the "best kept secret of the Church" (which I've heard; though I've also heard it has some competition from ToB), hopefully this frank discussion about Catholic doctrine from both Colbert and Fr. Martin cleared things up for a huge number of viewers. The Catholic Church could use more publicity like this.

By far my favorite part occurred (I think) unintentionally -- or else Colbert is much more into the subtle subtext than I imagined. He jokes that his God is in favor of people making money; that's why his symbol is a + sign. If he cared about social justice, "he would have put something on it that inspires empathy... Like a kitten." For the Catholic Church, however, there is something on the cross to inspire empathy : the bloodied, beaten, broken body of a man who did nothing to deserve it but love us.