“Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Mt. 6:7-15)
How I want to believe this. I mean, of course I do, but sometimes I think feeling sort of isolated and unsure myself of what I need leads to doubting that God does know how to help me. I think it’s mostly caused by conflicting desires—God let me rest and God help me to have the strength to act; God take over my future but please take me where I will; God make me the best version of myself even as I refuse to let go of temptations.
Yet, from another point of view, God blesses me with what I need when I regularly had no idea that it was what I needed. This semester has been littered with seemingly random blessings that have sustained me and rejuvenated me, but were they truly random? I think not. In some weird way, I think that I was meant to be curled up in bed today, watching Downton Abbey and enjoying the rain.
This break is exactly what I needed. Already, of course, I am questioning how it can be passing so quickly even as I try to savor it. Part of me wants to make lists of things to do and places to go in the days to come; another part of me thinks that spending my day lounging and lazily doing whatever I feel like doing as the hours pass is exactly what I should I be doing.
As the week progresses, I will need to return to the real world, gradually, beginning to grade and plan for next week. Let me enter that transition smoothly and without bitterness, Lord. Prepare me for the space between now and Spring Break (which seems eons away). Rejuvenate me and make me ready for the hard work and late nights to come. You know what I need already, and I want to think that this break will be enough to prepare me for a successful month of March at school.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Monday 02.18.13
“You shall not bear hatred for your brother in your heart.
Though you may have to reprove him,
do not incur sin because of him.
Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against your fellow countrymen.
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
I am the LORD.” (LV 19:11-18)
I have been feeling a little downtrodden lately and have not been quite sure why. There are many, many reasons, but when I was reflecting on today’s reading, I thought about how I have felt almost toxically negative this year. As a teacher, it is my job to enforce rules and create an environment where everyone can learn, feel respected, and act productively. The reality of creating that environment means that much of my energy throughout a school day is handling conflict, redirecting behavior, and providing constructive criticism. Yes, I try and try and try to be positive around and build strong relationships with and cultivate self-confidence in my students.
At the end of the day, though, I question if feeling so drained and exhausted and even, at times, strongly disliked means that I feel isolated and unsure of living out God’s love. I work because I care, but sometimes I just feel misunderstood—like my sarcasm is a foreign language, like my dry humor is taken as rude, like my positive intentions are lost in translation.
I’m hoping that after ski week I can return to school and consciously pursue being more positive. It’s been a goal of mine for some time, but maybe I can do more to reach out to family and friends and coworkers to let them know that I appreciate them and value them. If I can let more people know that I care and love them as I love myself, perhaps the rewards reaped could be twofold—maybe I will feel more secure in living in the way that God has called and simultaneously come to love myself more in the midst of a rough year.
Pour through me with Your grace, Lord, so that I can act in a way befitting Your child.
Pax to me and mine.
Though you may have to reprove him,
do not incur sin because of him.
Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against your fellow countrymen.
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
I am the LORD.” (LV 19:11-18)
I have been feeling a little downtrodden lately and have not been quite sure why. There are many, many reasons, but when I was reflecting on today’s reading, I thought about how I have felt almost toxically negative this year. As a teacher, it is my job to enforce rules and create an environment where everyone can learn, feel respected, and act productively. The reality of creating that environment means that much of my energy throughout a school day is handling conflict, redirecting behavior, and providing constructive criticism. Yes, I try and try and try to be positive around and build strong relationships with and cultivate self-confidence in my students.
At the end of the day, though, I question if feeling so drained and exhausted and even, at times, strongly disliked means that I feel isolated and unsure of living out God’s love. I work because I care, but sometimes I just feel misunderstood—like my sarcasm is a foreign language, like my dry humor is taken as rude, like my positive intentions are lost in translation.
I’m hoping that after ski week I can return to school and consciously pursue being more positive. It’s been a goal of mine for some time, but maybe I can do more to reach out to family and friends and coworkers to let them know that I appreciate them and value them. If I can let more people know that I care and love them as I love myself, perhaps the rewards reaped could be twofold—maybe I will feel more secure in living in the way that God has called and simultaneously come to love myself more in the midst of a rough year.
Pour through me with Your grace, Lord, so that I can act in a way befitting Your child.
Pax to me and mine.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Sunday 02.17.13
Luke 4:1-13
Jesus answered him,
“It is written, One does not live on bread alone.”
For the first time in a long time, I heard a homily today that felt wonderfully fulfilling and engaging. The priest addressed the way in which Jesus’ story is our story too; when Christ is tempted by Satan in today’s gospel, he experiences that which we experience. Though Christ is divine, God chose to become human. I often feel some inexplicable jealousy for Christ’s ability to show endurance and self-discipline against sin: why is He the kind of human I am not and am not capable of being?
The Georgetown Lenten reflection today thoughtfully notes, “In the course of our lives, we may sometimes feel that we have been driven into the desert. We hunger and thirst for something we can’t name; we feel lonely, unloved, unimportant, and unfulfilled. We may feel lost and abandoned. We’re faced with questions we’d rather not answer.”
It occurred to me that there are many things that God has forced me to confront this year that I would rather not face and questions I still refuse to answer. I am scared to think about what jobs, programs, and opportunities I will begin to pursue when I conclude TFA, and yet, I continue to refuse to hand it over to God. I try… but then I worry and ask, “will I ever find a place and a career that feel right?”
I miss the past, relentlessly, rather than taking advantage of opportunities. I waste time and lambast God for giving me a stressful life. I wish my faith were stronger when I don’t dedicate enough time to it. I feel hungry for security and peace about my future, yet I haven’t devoted it to God, nor have I dedicated time to actually researching opportunities. It’s as though in the midst of feeling out of control of my life in many ways, I am forced to reassess my priorities and how much I actually do have control over.
The Lenten reflection also notes, “Rather than leading the Israelites directly from the bounty of Egypt to ‘a land flowing with milk and honey,’ God led them into the desert, to a place of stillness and solitude so that they might hear him more clearly, respond more deeply, and worship more faithfully.” I must ask myself, did God place me in an almost untenable position this year so that I can change and grow in ways that are not yet visible to me? Is this all deliberate, and rather than him being sadistic, He has a loving plan for me?
In my darkest moments, I slip into what the priest called “me-ism” today: I focus on me to the extent that I do not give God the credit He deserves. I focus on all that I want, all that I think is best for me, all that I doubt, all that I would rather be doing, all that I have accomplished. What I really hunger for more than all else is a sense of selflessness that can liberate me from me.
Today’s gospel says that bread alone is not enough. This year I have focused on material things as a comfort—my new car, decorating my apartment, buying clothes, getting Starbucks way too often, buying more expensive groceries—the list could go on and on. I feel as though God wants me to return my life to a healthy equilibrium, where I turn inwards and upwards for peace; find more ways to use my talents to help others; dedicate my future to His will, whatever that may be. I want to worry less and crave more—more of Him, more of His peace, more of His grace.
I want to really know that bread alone is not enough—unless it is the bread of everlasting life. Allow me to use Lent as a time to renew my faith and try to deepen my understanding of my purpose.
Jesus answered him,
“It is written, One does not live on bread alone.”
For the first time in a long time, I heard a homily today that felt wonderfully fulfilling and engaging. The priest addressed the way in which Jesus’ story is our story too; when Christ is tempted by Satan in today’s gospel, he experiences that which we experience. Though Christ is divine, God chose to become human. I often feel some inexplicable jealousy for Christ’s ability to show endurance and self-discipline against sin: why is He the kind of human I am not and am not capable of being?
The Georgetown Lenten reflection today thoughtfully notes, “In the course of our lives, we may sometimes feel that we have been driven into the desert. We hunger and thirst for something we can’t name; we feel lonely, unloved, unimportant, and unfulfilled. We may feel lost and abandoned. We’re faced with questions we’d rather not answer.”
It occurred to me that there are many things that God has forced me to confront this year that I would rather not face and questions I still refuse to answer. I am scared to think about what jobs, programs, and opportunities I will begin to pursue when I conclude TFA, and yet, I continue to refuse to hand it over to God. I try… but then I worry and ask, “will I ever find a place and a career that feel right?”
I miss the past, relentlessly, rather than taking advantage of opportunities. I waste time and lambast God for giving me a stressful life. I wish my faith were stronger when I don’t dedicate enough time to it. I feel hungry for security and peace about my future, yet I haven’t devoted it to God, nor have I dedicated time to actually researching opportunities. It’s as though in the midst of feeling out of control of my life in many ways, I am forced to reassess my priorities and how much I actually do have control over.
The Lenten reflection also notes, “Rather than leading the Israelites directly from the bounty of Egypt to ‘a land flowing with milk and honey,’ God led them into the desert, to a place of stillness and solitude so that they might hear him more clearly, respond more deeply, and worship more faithfully.” I must ask myself, did God place me in an almost untenable position this year so that I can change and grow in ways that are not yet visible to me? Is this all deliberate, and rather than him being sadistic, He has a loving plan for me?
In my darkest moments, I slip into what the priest called “me-ism” today: I focus on me to the extent that I do not give God the credit He deserves. I focus on all that I want, all that I think is best for me, all that I doubt, all that I would rather be doing, all that I have accomplished. What I really hunger for more than all else is a sense of selflessness that can liberate me from me.
Today’s gospel says that bread alone is not enough. This year I have focused on material things as a comfort—my new car, decorating my apartment, buying clothes, getting Starbucks way too often, buying more expensive groceries—the list could go on and on. I feel as though God wants me to return my life to a healthy equilibrium, where I turn inwards and upwards for peace; find more ways to use my talents to help others; dedicate my future to His will, whatever that may be. I want to worry less and crave more—more of Him, more of His peace, more of His grace.
I want to really know that bread alone is not enough—unless it is the bread of everlasting life. Allow me to use Lent as a time to renew my faith and try to deepen my understanding of my purpose.
Saturday, 02.16.13
“Faith without doubt is fanaticism.”
I signed up for the Georgetown Lenten reflection series online, and it has been a wonderful source for my own reflections. Today’s reflection was about doubting God and questioning God, but nonetheless being loved by the God one cannot fully seem to trust.
During a year of some poignant lows and lots of questioning—about myself, my purpose, my vocation, my future, my happiness, my goals, and my faith—I have not relied on my faith nearly as much as I could have. I want to see going to church, reflecting on my faith, deepening my relationship with God as privileges and joys; now I am budgeting time and forsaking some of the things that are most important to me.
Selfishly I ask God to renew and revive my love and enthusiasm for His calling and our relationship.
I signed up for the Georgetown Lenten reflection series online, and it has been a wonderful source for my own reflections. Today’s reflection was about doubting God and questioning God, but nonetheless being loved by the God one cannot fully seem to trust.
During a year of some poignant lows and lots of questioning—about myself, my purpose, my vocation, my future, my happiness, my goals, and my faith—I have not relied on my faith nearly as much as I could have. I want to see going to church, reflecting on my faith, deepening my relationship with God as privileges and joys; now I am budgeting time and forsaking some of the things that are most important to me.
Selfishly I ask God to renew and revive my love and enthusiasm for His calling and our relationship.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Thursday 02.14.13
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'”
I almost forgot to post, but remembered in the nick of time. Hopefully this will become a smooth habit. Today was rough, and as I so often do, I found myself thinking why me? Why am I here? Why can't I be doing something easier?
I wish that I could put others first more often. A friend of mine who is also a teacher posted on facebook about how she realized recently that so many students need more love. I think that I want my work to come from a place of love but that when I am so drained and fed up and over all of it, I lose sight of the good I could do.
I snapped at some students today when I was multitasking on overload, and then later a student made a simple but thoughtful gesture that surprised and humbled me. Grace me with your strength, Lord.
One more day until ski week.
I almost forgot to post, but remembered in the nick of time. Hopefully this will become a smooth habit. Today was rough, and as I so often do, I found myself thinking why me? Why am I here? Why can't I be doing something easier?
I wish that I could put others first more often. A friend of mine who is also a teacher posted on facebook about how she realized recently that so many students need more love. I think that I want my work to come from a place of love but that when I am so drained and fed up and over all of it, I lose sight of the good I could do.
I snapped at some students today when I was multitasking on overload, and then later a student made a simple but thoughtful gesture that surprised and humbled me. Grace me with your strength, Lord.
One more day until ski week.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Lenten Reflections
I have not blogged in far too long, mainly because my life has been a maelstrom of confusion, chaos, and darkness (ha—but really). Looking back at my past entries, I see a common thread—trying to find and pull out the beauty in my experiences. And lately, it has been quite difficult to do. Finally, finally, teaching is becoming slightly easier.
As I look through my past posts and this year, I feel like I need a time and a place to be honest with myself and God—about my needs, frustrations, and temptations. I want to use this space and this time in my life to seek God more and more consciously. I’ve lost myself at times, I think because I have not prioritized that which anchors me—my faith.
My Lenten goal is to reflect very often. Daily, in fact.
Today was a day like any other. I felt incredibly frustrated at school and prayed for patience. I went to Ash Wednesday mass and felt frustrated by us, humanity, looking around the cathedral and hearing laughter, talking, distractions, rude comments, vanity--while ironically enough realizing the depth of my own self-righteousness in the midst of my frustration. I sit here tired and drained, resenting my work. Let me, Lord, seek you even in the most negative of times, and perhaps more difficult, in the most mundane of times.
So, to conclude my first post, here is a psalm that I would like to inspire me for my Lenten journey, a time of self-reflection and growth:
"Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me and know my anxious thoughts;
And see if there be any hurtful way in me,
And lead me in the everlasting way."
- Psalm 139: 23-24
As I look through my past posts and this year, I feel like I need a time and a place to be honest with myself and God—about my needs, frustrations, and temptations. I want to use this space and this time in my life to seek God more and more consciously. I’ve lost myself at times, I think because I have not prioritized that which anchors me—my faith.
My Lenten goal is to reflect very often. Daily, in fact.
Today was a day like any other. I felt incredibly frustrated at school and prayed for patience. I went to Ash Wednesday mass and felt frustrated by us, humanity, looking around the cathedral and hearing laughter, talking, distractions, rude comments, vanity--while ironically enough realizing the depth of my own self-righteousness in the midst of my frustration. I sit here tired and drained, resenting my work. Let me, Lord, seek you even in the most negative of times, and perhaps more difficult, in the most mundane of times.
So, to conclude my first post, here is a psalm that I would like to inspire me for my Lenten journey, a time of self-reflection and growth:
"Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me and know my anxious thoughts;
And see if there be any hurtful way in me,
And lead me in the everlasting way."
- Psalm 139: 23-24
Saturday, October 6, 2012
A Quiet Saturday
Do you know that feeling when you ask yourself, “Shouldn’t I be doing something right now? Meeting someone or having an adventure or hanging out with people?” I can’t get over the sense that I am in my early twenties and live a somewhat solitary, dull life. Not quite what I had expected after moving to California—that’s for sure.
It’s weird to sit and just…be. It’s weird to want more when all you want is to enjoy the simplicity of the day and of relaxing.
I had this wonderful, rejuvenating talk with one of my best friends last night, and she helped me to see that I’m still putting a lot of pressure on myself to have life just magically be settled in here in California; I moved only two months ago, and most of that time has been spent working long days. I just need to accept that time, time, time will help me.
I wish that I could stop resisting and give in to God’s grace. Clearly blessings abound, and yet I fixate on what could be improved and changed. I want more and less and different things, constantly, always. It’s tiring and exhausting, and to be honest, more than anything I have an insatiable desire for contentment.
Wandering, wandering aimless and solitary. People that I love, far, far and away keep reigning me back in, keeping me centered, sustaining me, helping me to recognize that even though college has never been more done and closed off, its love and blessings keep pouring forth. My friends won’t give up on me, even as I waver, falter, and trip up for months on end.
Really others are the ones who keep showing me that this “new” life doesn’t have to be an ending, and even with this seemingly foolish choice to move across the country, great things await me. Selfishly, I cling to the hope that life will grow better and better, that God will grace me with the wealth of joys that have hitherto been my privilege.
So I sit here. Reflecting, wondering how best to spend my one day of “freedom” from stress—wandering around town, shopping, the beach, praying, all of the above. Who knows? Wherever I go, whatever I do, I crave the grace of peace and the joy of feeling content with who I am and what I want.
It’s weird to sit and just…be. It’s weird to want more when all you want is to enjoy the simplicity of the day and of relaxing.
I had this wonderful, rejuvenating talk with one of my best friends last night, and she helped me to see that I’m still putting a lot of pressure on myself to have life just magically be settled in here in California; I moved only two months ago, and most of that time has been spent working long days. I just need to accept that time, time, time will help me.
I wish that I could stop resisting and give in to God’s grace. Clearly blessings abound, and yet I fixate on what could be improved and changed. I want more and less and different things, constantly, always. It’s tiring and exhausting, and to be honest, more than anything I have an insatiable desire for contentment.
Wandering, wandering aimless and solitary. People that I love, far, far and away keep reigning me back in, keeping me centered, sustaining me, helping me to recognize that even though college has never been more done and closed off, its love and blessings keep pouring forth. My friends won’t give up on me, even as I waver, falter, and trip up for months on end.
Really others are the ones who keep showing me that this “new” life doesn’t have to be an ending, and even with this seemingly foolish choice to move across the country, great things await me. Selfishly, I cling to the hope that life will grow better and better, that God will grace me with the wealth of joys that have hitherto been my privilege.
So I sit here. Reflecting, wondering how best to spend my one day of “freedom” from stress—wandering around town, shopping, the beach, praying, all of the above. Who knows? Wherever I go, whatever I do, I crave the grace of peace and the joy of feeling content with who I am and what I want.
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