Africa: I Miss It

"When I think of home, I think of a place where there's love overflowing.
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there with the things I've been knowing..."

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Africa feels like home to me.  I miss it so SO much; it is killing me that I am not there right now.  If someone offered me a one-way ticket to Ghana today, I would take it.
I have been home for about two and a half months now.  That must be how long it takes for me to register homesickness, cuz I'm really feelin' it now.

Here is what I miss most:
- the simple, unshakable faith of the people there
- the smiles
- the children (oh, my heart!!!)
- the drums and the dancing
- my mission team

Here is what I still don't miss:
- rice and red sauce
- latrines
- exhaust fumes

What I wouldn't give for the chance to go back to Dafor and visit the little school they have there, to hear the kids yell "Sistah Jen!" as they pull on my arms and clothes.  How I would love to hoist a headpan of cement onto my headcloth and work to finish that church!  What a joy it would be to to hear another of Fada's homilies, so penetrating and life-giving because of their deep simplicity!  How I miss those old ladies who tried to teach us Ewe and laughed at us every morning after Mass, those Mamas who were quite obviously the backbones of the village community, and those workmen who spoke to us in squeaky voices.  Hahaha and the finger snapping handshakes... I miss those.

I must go back to Africa.  I don't know when or how, but I must.  I have already been away from home for too long.

Reevaluating

That girl...
with lots of eyeliner
in the sexy heels
with the tears in her eyes...
that isn't me.


When did I stop smiling?  When did I stop caring?  When did these walls go up?
Maybe I could name a specific date and time...
but maybe it's also been a process...
a process that now needs to come undone.

But do I want to undo it?

Oh, God, listen to me. I am so angsty.

Surviving

I know I haven't posted in a long time.  It's actually because I haven't had anything positive to say.  My life has been... difficult lately, and a lot of mornings it's all I can do to pull myself out of bed to face another day.  I wish I could go into details and pour my heart out to you, readers, but it would just be so inappropriate.  Just please, keep me in your prayers.
Here are some things that are keeping me going:
- my family.  They are the best.  Really.  I don't know what I would do without them.  My mom and older sisters have been calling me with great frequency just to ask how I'm doing.  I have two wonderful brothers who are just amazing young men.  And that little sister of mine. She's such a sass, and I taught her everything she knows.  And she's getting so grown up and so beautiful!  But most especially, I am grateful for the gift of my father right now.  What a good man he is.  He has been so faithful to our family, so loving, so hardworking, so generous.  And when a girl's heart is lying in pieces around her, sometimes a hug from her daddy is just the thing to make it a little better...
- my faith.  Ya, it had to be said.  God and I are... maybe not as tight as we used to be.  But we still talk.  Honestly, it's Mamma Mary who's pulling me through this time.  And I know that she's very close to her Son/Husband/Father.  It's great how God is all three to her, isn't it?  So as long as I stay wrapped in her mantle... I think I'll be ok.
- music.  Yes, this also makes me cry a lot.  But more often it brings a sweet release of all the tensions and stresses of my life.  My favorite is to go into St. Paul's when no one else is there and just revel in the sound of my voice reverberating through the glorious space above my head.  It's like... releasing pieces of my soul.  My favorite right now is Bach's Ave Maria in the key of G major.  (I know that because after I finished singing I whipped out my tuning fork, which I always have with me now, and found what key I was in just by listening to A 440 and doing the math.  Hells yes, I am a music major now!!!  Also I just found out that that's the key it was originally published in.  It's a sign.) Today when I was singing there two people walked in and knelt down to pray in the middle of a song.  I wasn't sure what to do so... I finished the song.  Then I left feeling kind of embarrassed.  Usually I only let God hear me when I'm singing like that.
- my bird.  Sure, she bites me when I try to touch her, but every morning, she sings along to my alarm clock, and sometimes it's quite nice to wake up to birdsong.
- dancing!  I went to Chicken Swing at CMU last Thursday night and did some lindy hoppin'.  It was so lovely to forget about everything for a few hours and just dance.  I am also a regular attendee of the Panther Tango Club, which I love.  I think tango is my favorite kind of dance.  It's so passionate and tender.  Also the endorphines from these two excursions kept me in an "up" mood for several days.  The only drug I can afford...

Now I'd like to talk a little bit about school.  I have apparently stopped caring about it.  I haven't done homework in over a week.  Except for a little composition project.  Hells yes.  I am a music major now. ;) Anywho, this lack of caring about classes is especially unfortunate because my good side pleaded with my professors on Friday for extensions on all the papers and homeworks I haven't turned in, while the bad me doesn't give a damn and is blogging right now instead of working on her long-overdue homework.  And I'm honestly feeling pretty sleepy (not from wine this time) so I think I'm going to go to bed and try to wake up early to finish it.  If I care tomorrow.  Which is a tossup at this point.
Ooo it's thundering.  How wonderful.  I do love a good storm.

Sleepless Saga

So, last night I don't think I slept at all.  This was not a free choice; I was so tired when I got home at 8:30 last night that I was in bed by 9, thinking that if I went to bed early, I could wake up early and do my homework then.  But it was not to be.  I slept for maybe an hour before I awoke, uncomfortably hot and sweating.  My room used to be an attic, so the temperatures up here can get a little extreme.  I tossed and turned for a while, trying to fall back asleep in spite of the heat, but eventually I gave in and got up to throw open my windows the rest of the way.  This turned out to be a mistake, because apparently the 3-step trek across the room told my body that it was time to be awake, and try as I might, I could not convince it that it was, in fact, bedtime and that I was tired.  By now it was 11:30.
So, I got up and turned on a small light so that I could at least entertain myself with some books.  I read the last hundred pages or so of The Golden Compass, which was very interesting, but I still was not even remotely tired.  I thought, "Maybe I can get my homework done now, since I obviously won't be sleeping anytime soon."  I turned on my computer, etc., only to find that our internet had timed out.  I would have to reset the router, which is in my housemate's room, and I really did not want to creep in there while she was sleeping. Instead, I went downstairs, pulled out some ice cream, made some tea, and read the next hundred or so pages from How to Avoid Falling in Love with a Jerk.  (very informative, by the way.  I highly recommend.)  All this reading, eating, and tea-making took me right up to about 5am, at which point I headed back upstairs with a mug of tea to sit in my windowsill with my feet on the roof, my special spot where I sometimes watch the sunset.  Whilst staring up at the moon and the one bright star I could see through the light pollution of our neighborhood, I found myself actually feeling a chill from the night air breezing around our roof, and that chill made me a little bit sleepy, in addition to the delicious tea I was sipping (about my 4th mug that night).  So, around 6am I finally found my way back to my little bed and succeeded, at last, at falling asleep.
My alarm went off at 7.  "Hell no," I thought, and turned it off.  Then I rolled over and went back to sleep until 10:30, thus making it impossible for me to go to my 10am or 11am classes or do any of my homework.  I did get up and get ready to catch the 12:34 bus into Oakland for my 1pm class, but I just missed it and so did not get into Oakland until the next bus arrived there at 1:30 or so.  My 2pm class didn't meet today because we had keyboard audits!  Fun fun.  I think I aced mine.  The rest of the day went normally: holy hour, confession, Mass, grocery shopping, dinner.  I haven't felt the effects of my sleeplessness at all.
It is now getting quite late, especially considering I have to be up and out by 7:45 tomorrow morning, but I still am not tired.  It is too damn hot in this house.  And I need to finish doing my laundry so I actually have clean clothes to wear to choir camp.  Che palle.  That is a vulgar way of saying "What a drag" in Italian.  Maybe I can sleep in the car tomorrow on the way there.  Or maybe it will be so cold at camp that I will actually be able to sleep there... What a delight that would be...

Feasts of the Two Hearts

A year ago at this time, I was in Miami with the Servants of the Pierced Hearts, struggling to stay awake during a 12-hour vigil in honor of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Today is His feast day, you know, and tomorrow is Hers. I can't believe it's only been a year, and yet what a year it has been!!

Back then, I was a naive little girl who thought she had all the answers and was seriously considering a religious vocation. Now, I'm a somewhat jaded little girl who realizes that she has no answers and is trying desperately hard not to be in love. Perhaps I am a little wiser, but only because I can acknowledge how foolish I really am.

Back then, I had just decided to move home for my sophomore year because I couldn't afford to live in the dorms anymore. We thought it would be good "formation" for me to continue living with my family, to live for others and not think only of myself. I thought I would grow so deeply in virtue. Maybe I have. I can't tell. All I know is that there were far too many instances of sheer bitchiness on my part for me to feel really good about how this year went. Anyway, now I am planning to move into a beauteous "citadel," complete with maidens and bay window overlooking the street below and garden in the backyard. Sigh. I can't wait.

Back then, I was incredibly anxious about my vocation. I wanted to know which path my life would take. The dilemma consumed my prayer life and many of my thoughts. Now, I seriously don't care which way the road turns. Both vocations are gorgeously beautiful and seeped in graces, so I'm good either way. Plus, here's another little secret: I don't want to get married anytime soon, to God or any mere mortal man. This was a startling revelation to me; I always thought I'd be a young bride growing up. But really, either vocation would get in the way of my plans for stardom. Plus, the idea of a commitment of that magnitude makes me sick. Maybe someday I'll desire those things, but for now I'll just throw myself into my career. It shouldn't be too hard for me considering that I love it so so much. Yay for pink roses and focusing on the present!! :D

Sorry the tone of this post is a little bit depressy and a lot cynical. I have such disdain for my younger self. I hate how ignorant she is. I'm going to hate my current self in a few years. That's just always how it's been with me. I look back at my younger self and crinkle my nose in disgust. But I have great sympathy for her. It's like, "You are so stupid, you poor, poor dear." I just want to go back and say, "Look, you ninny. Everything's going to be ok. So stop embarrassing me and get over yourself." What gets me through is knowing that the current version of myself is the best version yet. And it's only getting better from here. I hope.

A Poem

as yet untitled...

dressed for success

dressed to impress

many will look

fewer will see

fewer still will reach out and touch

my hand, my heart

and the eyes of he

who I wish would see

are unimpressed

Humility, Suffering, and Perfection

I have not posted anything for an incredibly long time. There have been things that I've wanted to say, none of which I can really remember now, but the truth is that there hasn't been time to say them. I couldn't even tell you what it is that's been keeping me so busy; I just know that I never feel like I have a spare minute. Maybe it's because I need a considerable amount of veg time in order to feel fully rested, so any spare moment I have is spent trying to relax. Even if I actually have stuff to do... like right now: I have so much to do! But I'm too tired to do anything. (It doesn't help that it's a sleepy rainy day here in Oakland.) Lately I feel that I'm just living from one pleasure to the next, enduring all that comes between instead of trying to make the best of each moment. That is not as it should be; my life is disordered at present.
Perhaps it is time to turn over a new leaf, as they say. Today, for example, I am eating humble pie. For a variety of reasons, I haven't been to my history class more than a few times in the past month. True, there are no tests in this class, but there are essays, and I believe the deadline for the next one is coming up soon. I don't have the prompt yet because I wasn't in class the day our professor handed them out and he doesn't use courseweb at all. So today I approached him after lecture to inquire after the essay prompt, fully revealing how behind I was in the course and drawing attention to the fact that I'm never there. I've written before about how closely tied my self-esteem is to my performance in school, so I needn't go through the emotions that I dealt with up until the moment I approached the front of the room. Taking responsibility for ones failings is never a comfortable action to take. Yet quite often it is the best way. On could argue that it is always the best way, in fact.
In my critical reading class, we just finished reading "Bartleby" by Herman Melville. It is the story of a lawyer (and narrator) dealing with his difficult scriveners on mid-1800s Wall Street. In particular, Bartleby, the most recent hire, "prefers not to" do anything but stare out the window after a brief period of efficient productivity at the beginning of his tenure in the office. The strange thing is that the lawyer, for whatever reason, cannot bear to kick him out, so Bartleby continues to haunt the office, even after the lawyer picks up and moves his business elsewhere! A most strange tale, indeed. Throughout, I found myself to be extremely frustrated and annoyed with the narrator's spinelessness. At the very beginning of the tale, he describes himself as "a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best," and proceeds to act upon this conviction for the remainder of the story. He runs the office like a wet noodle, never disciplining his scriveners or even remaining angry at them for more than a moment. He rationalizes away every inclination that might lead him into conflict with anyone, even physically running away from the office when things get really bad toward the end.
The reason that I go into all of this detail about this particular story is that I see myself in the lawyer's actions to an alarming degree. My sixth grade teacher always used to say that we are most annoyed with other people when we recognize our own faults in them, and that certainly seems to be the case here. Much as I was shocked to hear the narrator's life philosophy, I have to admit that I have lived much of my own life by it. I, too, have spent years taking the easiest way and avoiding conflict at all costs. Usually when the need arises to really fight for something, I give up on it, including everything from grades to workouts to love interests. I have let people walk all over me because I would rather be hurt than fight it out. I have let others call the shots because I didn't want to put in the effort necessary to resist. I have listened with a smile on my face to people voicing opinions that make me want to scream and throw things because it just wouldn't do to start an argument. Now perhaps some of these have been occasions of prudence and wisdom. But perhaps some of them required action, and I did not act.
I was recently in Peoria with the Servants of the Pierced Hearts, and one of the sisters gave us a beautiful presentation about suffering. No matter where our paths take us, there is going to be suffering involved. The key to navigating life is not to choose the easiest way, but rather to choose the way that our Lord wants us to take. Sometimes we may even need to choose to suffer! Yes, it may be difficult, but it is far easier to suffer now than in purgatory! At the end of our lives, what will we wish we had done right now? Let us not wait until the end of our lives to wish those things for ourselves; let us wish for them now! We are being called to be who we were created to be. There is no half way, there is no cutting of corners; if we are truly living the life He wants for us then the cross is always the end! And that cross is love in the extreme! Christ didn't scrimp; he annihilated Himself to give love to us. What are we watering down? How are we running away from Him? In what ways are we living in mediocrity?
Too often I have grown complacent and prideful by looking only at the aspects of myself that I like, the areas in which I am succeeding. It is then that I need to be jostled out of my comfortable sleep and awaken to the many areas of my life where I have failed, like in this history class. Christ understands when we fall - He was human once, after all - but we are being called to PERFECTION. As Padre Pio said, "God sees stains even in the angels. What must He see in me!"
This may seem an impossible task, but I assure you that it is not! Our Lord greatly desires for us to become the people He created us to be, so the slightest glance in His direction gladdens His heart. Can't you see that He wants nothing more than to welcome you into His arms? He longs to pour out his grace upon each of our hearts if we would only be open to receive it. The easiest and the best way to do this is to frequent the sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist. By keeping our souls clean and free from worldly attachment and frequently welcoming Jesus physically into our bodies, we are able to keep building that close relationship with Him that He so desires and from which we benefit so greatly! This closeness with Him that all of the great saints fostered allowed for their sanctification, for when you personally know the Author of the Universe, it is easier to see His hand at work and the paths He has set for you. And the path that our Lord has chosen for all of us is sainthood! Believe it! He wants all of us to be up at that high altar in heaven. We were created to be nothing less.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that these little things like succeeding in history class or day-to-day charity may seem inconsequential, but it is the culmination of all the little choices that you make that determine your character. After all, if we are to be perfect as we are meant to be, then each of these little decisions must lead us to God and to the sanctification of our souls.

First Day of School. Sigh.

Last semester ended horribly. I left school feeling stupid and lazy and utterly defeated in almost every class. My grades were the worst they've ever been in my life, and I hate that. I know I shouldn't tie so much self-worth to my performance at school...
But this Christmas break was exactly what I needed. I spent a lot of time doing absolutely nothing. And it was perfect. It really was like having a little summer plopped right in the middle of my year, except it was cold and slushy instead of warm and sunny.
Today was the first day of classes for Pitt. This morning as I waited for the trolley, I felt just like a freshman again. I couldn't put my finger on it until later this evening. I'm... scared. I'm afraid that this semester is going to whup my ass just as bad as the last one did, so afraid that I didn't even want to begin. But begin I did this morning, like it or not.
I can't say that I'm any less afraid just because I got through one day of classes and work. The beginning of the semester is never the hard part; that comes later when you have 2 papers and an exam all due the next day and you have a choir concert that night and of course you've put it off because you're so afraid to begin because you want it to be perfect.
Sigh.
I've organized so so many schedules and techniques to ease the transition and to help make me a better student. I still don't know if any of them will work. It's too soon to tell. And honestly, I don't have any faith in myself anymore, no hope that I will be able to stick with it when it counts. I don't believe that I can change the person I've been for so many years, depending on her smarts to coast through school.
But I can't be that person anymore! I've reached a point where I need to grow and to become more than what I am now. I'm just so afraid of failing at this, too.

End of the Semester Blues

I haven't written in.... well, a very long time. Obviously. I can't really think of good reason why not. I think I just forgot I had a blog for a while. Plus, as usual, things have been super busy.
I always say that when people ask me, "How've you been?" or "How are things going?" "Busy," is always the reply because it's always true. I'm just putting the finishing touches on my schedule for next semester (one of the classes I added was canceled and I had to find a replacement) so I'm feeling introspective about this topic.

Every time I make a schedule of classes (I've made about 7 now counting high school and the past three semesters) I feel optimistic about the coming year/semester. I get excited. I think, "This semester will be different. This year I will be able to concentrate on my classes the way I've always wanted to, without interruptions. This semester I will enjoy my classes; they all look so interesting! I sincerely want to learn about what each of them has to offer. These classes will make up a big part of my life in the near future."
But that's never the way it happens. Life keeps on going regardless of my class schedule. And no matter how optimistic I am at the beginning, there will always be unexpected deaths in the family, sick days (or weeks, in my case), a friend who needs you to be there even though you have a lot to do. And I will probably get behind and be outrageously stressed out about the very classes I was so looking forward to only a few months before.
It's a hard pill for my idealistic self to swallow. This whole time-management thing so rarely works out the way I want it to. Sometimes I wonder if I really am that busy or if I just... feel that way. I mean, maybe I just can't deal with life's normal ups and downs like most people can. If this is about learning my limitations as a student and as a person, then it's a very humbling experience.
The truth of the matter is, most days I would be perfectly happy to hole myself up in my little office room all day and chill out. I don't mind being alone. But most days that's not really an option, so I keep pulling myself out of bed and going out to fight the good fight. I do want to get a good education. I really do want to learn. It's just the day-to-day grind that sometimes gets me down.
Sorry for the defeated tone of this post. I've just been feeling a bit melancholy lately, I guess. Make-up work always does this to me, and finals are looming on the not-so-distant horizon. Perhaps I should be stronger and try to pull through it with a smile on my face, but you can only smile for so long before your cheeks hurt.

Comfort

Last night, I had a series of really horrible dreams. Some samples:
1) My house was under invasion by all sorts of monsters and evil beings and try as my family might, we could not fend them off.
2) My dad DIED while I was at some sort of 8-day camp. Nobody told me, and by the time I got home he was gone and buried and my Mom had a new boyfriend already. (Mother dear assured me that that would never ever happen in real life when I told her this morning, accompanying her assurance with the exclamation, "gross!" Praise God for my wonderful mother!)
3)The Servants of the Pierced Hearts were under house arrest during the Nazi invasion in a house with no bathroom, only a small shower in the wall.

I have never in my life been so happy to hear my alarm clock's cheerful beeping. As I pulled the covers off and shuffled to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I realized that, comparatively, my life really is not bad at all. Sure, commuting sucks, but at least my dad isn't dead and my house isn't under attack. As I climbed on the trolley this morning, I felt truly happy for the first time since school started. I most certainly can make the best of things.

And one more thing:
I pray a rosary every morning on the trolley. Usually I keep the beads enclosed in my palm, with only a few peeking out over my thumb and forefinger as I count the decade out. But today, I let my rosary fall loosely over my lap. I made the sign of the cross joyfully and noticeably. No more hiding. I'm ready to show the world my faith. Is this display in response to my dreams of last night? Perhaps. For without God, all things seem impossibly bleak.

More Humility

It is excruciatingly difficult for me to admit this...
but I tried out for Pitt Repertory Theater and got absolutely nothing. Not even a callback. That's 4 different shows that all passed me by. That hurts my pride. A lot.
I used to consider myself to be a good actress. I absolutely love to perform and so many people have told me that they enjoy watching me. But the truth of the matter is that in the real world, (as in, not high school theater) I am not that good.
Normally when I audition for anything I keep it very secret. I tell as few people as possible. If I fail, I don't want to have to tell everyone who asks "How did your audition go?" that I didn't get anything.
But this time is different. My purpose for posting this is absolutely not to receive compliments or words of comfort. In all honesty I would love to forget that this whole thing ever happened.
This time, though, I know for sure that things happened exactly the way the Lord wanted them to, and I don't want to keep His beautiful plan a secret.
I prayed so hard about these auditions. I almost backed out countless times. I prayed that if it was not His will that I be in shows this semester that He stop me from getting to the audition somehow. I was looking for the easy way out; I don't like to try for anything that I don't think I will get. But notice: He allowed me to go sign up, fill out a form, pick out a monologue, practice over and over, get to the auditions, and worry all day today about call-backs. All for nothing. And the thing is that along every single step along the way, I knew that He wanted me to keep going. You see, I had much to gain from this experience. Humility. Perseverance.
"No," He says through it all, "You are not always going to get what you want or be the best at everything. But that shouldn't stop you from trying. And when you fall, bless the opportunity to grow in wisdom and virtue, for I Myself fell three times along the road to the cross. You don't have to be perfect, little one. But you must try."

Commuting...

sucks. It's been a day and a half now, and it's really getting on my nerves. Seriously, I need to devote 2 hours of my life every day to travel from my house to my classes and back again? Not fun. Not at all fun.
I waited for a trolley for over twenty minutes this morning!!!! What is that all about?? I was 10 minutes late to my first class this morning because of it. And what if I oversleep? There is no throw-on-some-clothes-and-walk-5-minutes option now. Nope. No room for mistakes.
Also, I am on campus with 3 1/2 hours of free time and nowhere to go chill out. I miss my little room. I have to sit in the computer lab and blog instead of watching old episodes of Scrubs. Boo.
Plus also, I forgot my Pitt ID today, so I had to shell out $4.60 to get here this morning, and tonight I'm gonna have to shell out $4.60 more to get home. That's almost $10 down the tubes!!! I could have bought a journal with that money! Or makeup! Or food! Or ANYTHING but bus and trolley fare!!! Ooo I'm so angry. >:(
And also, I don't have a meal plan anymore, so I'm going to have to pay real money for my dinner tonight. Argh!

Little Bird, Journals, Milestones

It was such a short while ago that I wrote about my little bird, Elliot, and what a ray of sunshine she was to the family and to Jack. Unfortunately, little Elli had a fatal encounter with a ceiling fan a few days ago. She went into shock, then she fell asleep and didn't wake up. We are burying her today.
I am surprisingly heartbroken over this. I am more upset that I was over any other pet death. Ever. I suppose it's because I took such care with her training and because she was so lovable. What hurts the most is how short the time was between her taming and her death. The lifespan of a parakeet, if all goes well (i.e. no sicknesses or accidents), is 12 - 16 years! I was so looking forward to that time with her.
I talked to my spiritual director about it yesterday: do pets go to heaven? On one hand, they don't have souls, or at least, proper souls like humans do, so they don't really fit into the beatific vision of heaven. Yet there will be no pain of loss or separation in heaven, and animals were placed on earth for the enjoyment and use of humans, so maybe they will be there to please us further once we cross over. Our final decision: we don't know! It helped just to talk it out, though.

Yesterday also marked the beginning of shopping-for-school-supplies season, as Mom took a few of us to Office Depot to pick out our planners. I got another huge calender. They really are the best for organizing. But more excitingly, there was a cart full of clearance stuff by the door (everything inside $1!!) and what should be lying in the cart but stacks and stacks of beautiful leather and suede journals!!!!! I almost passed out, I was so happy. I have a rather severe journal fetish. I bought 5 of them for $5.35. You just can't beat that. Plus, now I am good to go for at least 2 years, probably more.

Also of note is that this post is #60 for me! Hooray! Also, August 23 is "Thoughts Along the Way"'s 1 year anniversary! I can't believe it! It seems only weeks ago that I was posting about my epic encounter with veggie hummus. Sigh.

Vocations (and other such nonsense)

Lately I've been giving a lot of thought to my vocation. A recent encounter with an old heartthrob and an upcoming visit to a convent may have something to do with this.
The thought process, however, is in direct opposition to the "vocation fast" that I've been on since my visit to Peoria: no dating, no close guy-friends, no visualizing myself as a nun, no obsessing about my vocation. The point of this was to allow myself time to grow closer to the Lord, just Him and me working on our relationship. And yes, I failed at this.
But perhaps the timing is good, after all. Allow me to explain.

There is this one priest who seems fairly certain that I'm going to enter the convent. He's not the only one who thinks this, but he's the most vocal about it. One of the sisters I met in Peoria was telling me about how this particular priest has a gift for predicting people's vocations.
"Well, that's it," I thought. "I'm going to be a nun." I wasn't expecting this thought to fill me with such sadness and even... was it really?... anger.
"NO!" I lashed out at God in prayer. "What about my spouse, who I've been praying for since I was 12? What about my very own family, with children of my own? What about the beautiful wedding I've been dreaming of? I'm not ready to give this up, God!! I'll do it if you reeeeally want me to, but I'll tell you one thing: If I AM supposed to be a nun, you sure as hell better make it blatently obvious to me, because I most certainly will NOT enter the convent if there is even a SHADOW of doubt in my mind."
And God wasn't the only one getting an earful.
I complained to my mom, my siblings: "My going to the convent doesn't mean anything! Maybe I just want to go and pray for a couple weeks!! Isn't that ok???"
I complained to the Blessed Mother: "Your Son and I are having a disagreement, so I'm just going to talk to you for a while. How in heaven's name did you manage to be so docile, so humble, so willing to accept ANYTHING He threw at you???"
I complained to St. Therese, my confirmation saint and special patroness: "God and I are fighting, so I'll ask you. I'm starting your novena as soon as I get home. Just tell it to me straight, St. Therese! Give me a white rose if I'm supposed to be a nun. Give me a red one if I'm supposed to get married. Give me a pink rose to say 'wait and see, you're not supposed to know yet.' Ya, I know it's been a while since I prayed that novena. Maybe you won't even give me the rose. How typical that would be."
As I left St. Paul's Cathedral after this very whiny holy hour, my eyes alighted upon the garden along the sidewalk. They were roses, and they were pink. True, there were some white ones and some red ones, but they were mostly all pink. And the roses followed the sidewalk for most of the block. "Ha ha," I thought, "I haven't even said the prayer yet."
I took the bus and the T back to good ol' Bethel Park, because I was singing at evening prayer with the Eucharist exposed for adoration. I still wasn't in the best of spirits. In fact, I was legitimately afraid of speaking to the Lord because I didn't want to hear those words: "I want you to be a nun. Will you marry me?"
But, speak to him I must, because there he was in the church, exposed on the altar, waiting for me. I whined some more. I thought of all the things I would have to give up if I was to become a nun. I cried a little bit, thinking of the children I would never have, the spouse I would never wake up next to. Clearly, the rose garden had not had the desired effect on my heart.
I sang through evening prayer, not meaning a word of the hymns and psalms. "The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom should I be afraid?" Ya, totally not feelin' that.
Toward the end of the night, however, a very small something within me was feeling a very little bit guilty. I knew that this was not a good attitude, but I certainly didn't want to give up on my little whine-fest. Grudgingly I prayed: "Geez, God, I don't even want to talk to you right now, I'm so mad. I know that I should be praying for humility and submission to your will, but I really don't want to."
I know, not the most sincere prayer, but it must have meant something to Him, because I couldn't believe what happened next.
As I was heading back to the tabernacle, this lady walked by me with a huge flower arrangement. I gasped a little bit and said "Oh, how beautiful." She looked and me and said, "You want them? Here, take them. I'm just going to throw them away if you don't." and she starts piling roses into my arms. Pink roses. Then white carnations edged in pink and deep pink sweetheart roses and 2 rosebuds edged in purple. Pink snapdragons and one stalk of purple flowers, and 2 sprays of baby's breath to top it all off. By the time she left, I had a bouquet of pink flowers so full that I could barely fit my hand around the stems. As I gazed at the gorgeous collection, I heard the Lord's voice loud and clear: "Don't worry about all of that silly stuff right now. Please, please just come back to me?" In my mind's eye, I saw a road with a fork in it. To the left, I saw shadows of Him and I walking, hand in hand, straight to heaven. To the right, there we were again, but this time we had another with us: my spouse. The road was a little curvier that way, too. But most importantly, I saw the Lord and I standing on the road before the fork, looking into each others' eyes and smiling at each other. The future makes absolutely no difference to us right now.

Learning Not to Be Strong

Recently I stumbled across the work of this beautiful artist, Yiruma. He's a pianist and a composer, and his work is phenomenal. It makes me feel.
He creates this airy, floating piano music. Listening to it is like basking in morning sunlight or sipping fresh milk or sinking into an immense feather bed.
Sometimes, when I hear this music, I feel immensely happy, like a princess chasse-ing across a ballroom. A smile lights up my face and I feel at peace and filled with joy in the Lord.
More often, though, the music makes me sad. More than once has it moved me to tears, real tears of loneliness or despair.

This has been a recurring issue for me: tears... vulnerability.
There are very few times when I feel comfortable crying. If something makes me feel sad, I don't let myself cry, especially not in public. I want to be strong. Even at funerals. Even when everyone around me is crying, too. Even when my heart is broken.
Things have changed, though, since I've drawn closer to the Lord. "Cry," He says to me. "Your tears are beautiful. They show that I matter to you, that My work matters to you. They show your weakness and your vulnerability and your beauty. They show that you need Me, My little one."
This world is a sorrowful place. There are many things to weigh us down and many things to pull us away from the Lord, Who is our source of strength and happiness. We live in a "valley of tears."

So, when I hear this music and feel sad hearing it, then I know: something is amiss in my life. There is some trial that I am not dealing with well, though everything may seem fine on the surface. So I let the tears come. And I bring them to the Lord. And I tell Him everything. And He smiles at me and brings joy back into my heart with His love and His graces. And soon I am smiling again as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

So you see, in avoiding the tears and the feelings we rely on our own strength to deal with the situation at hand. The key is learning NOT be strong so that we may share those tender moments with our Lord, Who wishes for nothing more than to be there with us through all our sufferings and failings. He loves us so very much. Cry, and let Him love you.

Holy Week

Ah, this most blessed week of the year. So far it has been loaded with suffering. It's only to be expected. Embrace the cross, y'all. Just do it. It makes the resurrection that much sweeter.

O How Things Have Changed...

I laugh when I look back and read over my first entry of this semester. I thought I had things sooo together. How wrong I was.
Not a week has gone by since then that I could call "normal" with a clear conscience. I am either going through a crisis or recovering from one. I guess that's what life really is, eh? How silly of me to think otherwise.
But I see now that it's better this way, too. I'd much rather be out there, experiencing the highs and lows of life than sticking to the comfortable, everyday schedule I'd set for myself. My Lord God knows how to plan a week much better than I do.
I can't wait to see where He takes me next. :)

Home Again, Home Again

This is bizarre, but I really really don't want to go home. It's bizarre because I've spent the past few weeks counting the days until I could call Dad and say "Come pick me up! I'm packed and ready to go!" and then sit back to enjoy a whole month of no school. I've been melancholy and mopey after having to come back here after all those weekend visits in November, and I was hit by a wave of homesickness when I saw my family for the Christmas Concert and couldn't go home with them. I just assumed that the cure for all this would be, well, I dunno, going home, but apparently not, because right now I'm feeling like exactly the opposite may be true. Now that classes are over and I have nothing to worry about, I wish I could just stay here and veg, but I can't. I have to go home and get a job for the holidays and help get the house ready for Christmas.
I am missing my little room quite a bit already, and I haven't even left yet! I'm just trying to clean up a bit and I keep noticing things that I am going to miss so much once I'm back in Bethel Park. I miss the lamp by my bed that I don't have to cross the room to turn off. I miss my pencil cup that always has a fresh pencil in it for my anal little self to enjoy. I miss my beautiful computer that is all mine, with no siblings bugging me to get online so they can play games or shop for who knows what. I miss Pandora, which fills my whole room with music and plays only the stuff that I like. I miss the sink and mirror that are all mine in the morning, with my makeup box and my whole wardrobe close by for optimal primping. I miss my bed with my favorite blanket and those two pillows that make sleep so delightful. This is my space and I am very, very reluctant to give it up. That is, of course, why I am blogging instead of cleaning and packing right now.

Now, that being said, there are some perks to being home.
For example, the shower is about 3 times as large, the food is free here and always available plus I am allowed to make it myself, there are cars here that I am sometimes allowed to drive, etc.
Possibly the greatest thing about being home, though, is the people here. I got to wrap my arms around some people that I love very much for the first time in a loooong time. You really can't beat that feeling. Plus it's hard to miss my dorm when I'm at home; I don't know why.

All said, I'm happy in both places and significantly less lonely here at home, so I guess both places have their perks.

Now, since I'm home and there are lots more people using the computer here and I'm not constantly logged on, it's much more incovenient for me to blog and much more convenient for me to journal. Also I have people to talk to here. So, don't be surprised if my blogs are few until I return to school from Christmas break.

Holiday Blessings to all!!

Loneliness

Nothing makes you feel lonely like a party does, I've decided.
I just got back to Pitt after a weekend full of family and friends, and for the first time since coming to college, I feel homesick. It's not so much that I want to be at home as I don't want to be at college anymore. The novelty has worn off and I'm ready to be done.
I know. This is awful; I'm only a first-semester freshman! I can't feel this jaded yet! But there it is: I'm sick of school and I can't wait to be done.
When I was younger and my sisters went away to college, I would always miss them more when I knew that they were coming home soon. Christmas time was the worst, because all the family traditions of choosing the tree and decorating the house had to be continued and carried out without them. I missed them like crazy then.
I didn't know that it worked both ways, that when I knew I was going home I would miss home more. I'm going to visit the high school crowd this weekend for the fall play, and the missing them is almost unbearable.
Boo, I need to snap out of this. Write it off as a moment of weakness along the bumpy road that is life, I guess. hahaha :)

Colleggge

The novelty is starting to wear off. Sure, college is better than high school because I love living on my own and the classes are more interesting/specific to my interests. But it's still school. Still the homework, the teachers practically pulling teeth to induce participation, the sleepiness. This all hit me today during my writing class as I struggled to make my mush of a brain work enough to participate in the conversation we were having about writing struggles. I really wanted to say something intelligent and process what other people were saying, but I couldn't. Honestly I'm still feeling a bit sluggish. There is no reason for this; I had plenty of sleep last night and I woke up at a reasonable hour this morning. I didn't wake up at all in the middle of the night. Hmmm.
Well, I have to go to piano class now. Hopefully I won't fall asleep on my keyboard. hahahahaha
...
Perhaps this whole disenchantment with college (and by college I mean classes) comes from increased social involvment, i.e. Heinz Chapel Choir!!! This is going to sound very very lame... but I think Choir Camp might have been my favorite weekend since coming to college. Now, yes, I've been to parties, and they're great, but the choir crowd is just so fun! and more welcoming/friendly than most college parties could ever be. I can't even describe it as I would like to, really, but I guess I can just say that this weekend I felt like part of a group for the first time since coming to Pitt. Now I know that I'm about to get emotional, so I will spare you that and just wrap this up.
Basically, I think my real problem is that I'm having trouble contenting myself with the whole classroom scene again after meeting and enjoying the company of so many awesome people. Also my sleep pattern seems intent on making me tired all the time, even when I've slept enough! Argh! I really need to figure this out to avoid a repeat of today.
I'm sure that eventually classes will seem interesting again. They are the real reason that I'm here, after all. I'm actually really excited that my schedule changes every semester instead of every year. Not only can I fit in lots more classes, but it prevents boredom, which I succumb to quickly, unfortunately. And I apologize for my clumsy sentence structure. Apparently the English classes haven't kicked in yet. But just wait...