A Post This Side of Christmas

Here I sit at the computer listening to a CD mix from a good friend, Nic. Sure enough he slipped in Christmas music while Halloween is still two weeks away. You see, Nic is famous for listening to Christmas music in July. By August, he has changed his bed sheets and comforter to wintry reindeer and snowmen themes. With Nic's tunes in the background, I checked my blog and was quite surprised to see my last post to be nearly a month ago! Wow, time flies. Well, in the spirit of Nic's over early zeal and my under aware mindset, i thought i'd at least get one post in before Christmas :)

There are three experiences that stand out over the last few weeks that I'd like to share:

1. A Marathon Sunrise
2. Becoming Trilingual at the Nursing Home
3. A Book Recommendation with Favorite Quote

#1 Given the national news over the three premature deaths in the Detroit Marathon, I am especially grateful for a healthy finish of the enjoyable, yet exhausting 26.2 miles. An unforgettable image was climbing the Ambassador Bridge in dawn's darkness surrounded side by side and front to back by 19,000 other runners making their way above the Detroit River into Canada. I hear and look to my right where there is a woman with her eyes closed softly singing with the song from her iPod, "Here Comes the Sun." I smile and look to my left where the sun is peaking above the water which separates the downtown skylines of Detroit, Michigan and Windsor, Ontario. Such was the atmosphere of the perfect autumn day. About 10 housemates served as rambunctious spectators and motivational runners when my legs started to give out at mile 20. My current limp does make me wonder if I could have served my body better in another form of endurance and discipline, but it also reminds me of those special moments I shared among thousands of other runners who found God in many things that day.

#2 Our schedule in the house has grown to include 4 hours volunteering for 4 days a week at a nursing home. We are to be Pastoral Care Volunteers which is a fancy term for chatting with the residents. This is not to diminish that we do share some profoundly sacred moments with our friends. The first few days, I noticed that I was naturally drawn to those patients who were eager to initiate conversation with me. It took a few days before I had the courage to approach one woman who was pretty far in the stages of dementia. I noticed her arms we crossed up onto her chest with each fist clenched tightly. She looked cold and uncomfortable. Her eyes looked blankly up at the ceiling, reminding me of how distance we were. I hesitated, thinking that my preliminary questions would come off impersonal and unimportant. I attempted some kind of headway with, "How are you feeling, today?" I sensed an equal hesitation on her part as her cloudy blue eyes met mine. She began only slowly with a few repeated mumbled sounds, as if to test intentions. And thus began my work on a new language. She let me ask seemingly impersonal and basic questions and I let her mumble. We're learning a lot from the residents as the face of Christ becomes more and more obvious within them.

#3 Lastly, I have recently devoured a 400 page book in a matter of a few days. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't make a habit of sitting down and reading a book cover to cover. This one is named The Sparrow, by Mary Doria Russell. The timing of the book is perfect because my reflection papers for our classes on the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience have gotten a bit dry. The writing about these real Jesuit characters inspired me for the more challenging topic of chastity. I'd like to share my favorite passage. The Jesuit character is talking with his closest friend, Anne, about a profound experience of God he just had and is trying with difficultly to put it into words. I especially enjoy Emilio's, the Jesuit speaking, twist at the end:

"Inside me, everything makes sense, everything I've done, everything that ever happened to me--it was all leading up to this, to where we are now. But, Anne, it's frightening and I don't know why..."

She wanted to see if he had more but when he fell silent, she decided to take a shot in the dark.

"You know what's the most terrifying thing about admitting that you're in love? You are just naked. You put yourself in harm's way and you lay down all your defenses. No clothes, no weapons. Nowhere to hide. Completely vulnerable. The only thing that makes it tolerable is to believe the other person loves you back and that you can trust him not to hurt you."

He looked at he astounded. "Yes. Exactly. That's how it feels when I let myself believe...But it has started to feel like I am being rude and ungrateful, do you understand? To keep on doubting. That God loves me. Personally."

Well folks, I leave you with that. I am in the process of making sense of those moments where I have felt the similar love BUT most especially coming to terms with how to respond to the great love and vulnerability. It is natural to struggle in the "how" to return that profound love or even just to maintain that attitude of gratitude during the mundane days. Yet, to doubt God's personal love DOES seem rude and ungrateful in light of those special moments. This is something I am pondering and praying with. I hope all is well with you and cannot wait to hear from you.

Again, I hope to post every other week or so, but just in case, Feliz Navidad :)