Aimless Wanderings

Maybe it's just me, but I kind of thought there for a little while that life would somehow get easier or less complicated the longer I adulted.  As if the more I practiced, the easier it would get, or the longer I waited, the clearer the answers would become.

All I've learned, and especially this year, is that instead of answers, we only face more questions.  We all have our own battles that we're facing, and for the most part, we all just go around living like everything is fine. Is that because we feel we're supposed to be adults and just suck up our feelings and deal with our problems?  We hear screaming children from various corners of the store at work and we always sort of look at each other sadly and say, "That's how I feel inside."  It hurts my ears, but I admire the honesty of children, and I wish I could be that vocally honest about my own feelings sometimes.

Courtesy of my brother, from Fawnly Prints

Those brave souls who speak out about their struggles and insecurities--I admire their ability to be vulnerable, to bare their souls, to speak up so that others who are experiencing similar battles can know that they are not alone and can find comfort or perspective or fuel for their own fight.  But sometimes our battles are so deeply personal, or we are so deep in the thick of it that speaking up is not in the cards for us right now.  

So what do we do?  Keep plastering on our brave faces and plugging along like everything's fine?  

Some other alternatives are to 1) scream in the middle of the grocery store (tempting, I know) or 2) offer enough vague complaints that people have pity on us and begin to pry in well-meaning attempts to offer support, but then we remember that we actually don't want to talk about it because it's so personal and complicated that a general explanation will never do and neither will giving this person access to our deepest, darkest secrets.

Or, we can choose to continue to wander aimlessly as we strive to fight our battles with brave faces and find balance in our awkward, complicated lives.  We can learn to appreciate the present and enjoy life where we are while we wait for life where we want to be.  And we can take comfort knowing that God is with us in our wanderings.  He sees each (mis)step we take, and His hand guides us gently along the way.  

When we have a bad day--one where we're so physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted that we actually feel like this might be it, this is where we lose it completely--He gives us a new day full of new mercies.

That's right, as we finish our Head and Heart Reset yoga flow with Adriene in the early morning before work, the final twist turns our head to the window so that we see the first glimmer of morning light through the trees, the beginning of the gentle fade from black night to blue day.  And as we sit outside for morning prayer, the cool fresh air fills our lungs and the chattering of the birds soothes our souls and we are reminded that He loves us, that He is working in us even when we are filled with pain--or confusion, or disgust at our own sin, or anxiety, or depression, or anger, or questions, or all of these things and more-- that the cross must come before the glory.

When we remember that He is there with us through it all, we learn how to accept these unpleasant things as they come, even if we don't always accept them happily or patiently.  And we learn, as Rainier Marie Rilke wrote in Letters to a Young Poet, to 

". . . be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.  Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is, to live everything.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.  Perhaps you do carry within yourself the possibility of shaping and forming as a particularly happy and pure way of living; train yourself to it--but take whatever comes with great trust. . .take it upon yourself and hate nothing. . ."

You can find Alanna's music on iTunes and Bandcamp!

As I've been learning this all the hard way in the last several weeks, I've been wandering aimlessly to the soundtrack of the lovely young poet Alanna Boudreau's album Goodbye Stranger.  Her music (especially this album and her previous album, Champion) helped me to the realization of what I've written here.  By providing a lovely sound to listen to along with intricately beautiful images and poetry, her music presents and reflects great mysteries that sweetly linger and haunt my thoughts. They leave me questioning and pondering, but in such a way that I find myself able to enjoy the uncertainty, that I'm now able to sit more comfortably with my constant questions, and to explore beauty from different perspectives.

Having realized that, I find myself here, telling you, dear reader, that you are not alone in your aimless wandering, in your questions answered with more questions, in your pain, in your fight.  We are all in this together, and the great God who loves us more than we know, has us all in His capable hands.

Fiat

As this short season of Advent swirls around us in a flurry of busyness, the word fiat has been on my heart.   It is after all, thanks to Mary's fiat, her "yes" to God's will, that the whole Incarnation came about as it did.  She said yes to something that could cause scandal, yes to bringing up the Son of God, yes to carrying Him in her body for nine months, yes to giving birth to Him.

She probably didn't know when she said "yes" that she'd have to give birth to Him after more than a week of bumbling along on a donkey while nine months pregnant, or that she'd have to give birth to Him in a cold, dark, dirty stable, or that after His birth they'd have to hide out in the desert for two years.  She probably didn't know when she said "yes" that she would have to watch him suffer and die at the hands of the people He loved so dearly.  But she said "yes" to God, and though it caused her times of pain and suffering, she allowed God to use her to help bring about the salvation of the world, through the miracle of a tiny baby.

In a way, this is how God uses all of our fiats.  Every time we place our trust in God, we say "yes" to His will for the salvation of the world.  Most of the time we don't have any idea how His plans will unfold, but we know that it likely won't be easy.  There will be sacrifice, pain, and suffering along the way, but it is through this sanctifying grace that we are transformed to become whatever God wants us to be.  It is through our fiats that He brings about the most glorious things!

This year, my greatest desire is for us all to appreciate more fully the love that God has for us.  He came to earth to be one of us, to share in our human experience, to be treated horribly and executed so that our sins will not be held against us.

The miracle of the Incarnation becomes more real for me every year, and when I close my eyes, I find myself on my knees.  I kneel beside the manger, holding Mary's hand as she rests and recovers from the difficult journey and the birth.  While she sleeps, I watch over her baby, my brother, my King.  I want to touch the soft cheek of the baby Jesus, because I know that with only a touch, I can be healed of my petty, whiny, selfishness.

O heal me, Jesus, and help me to embrace fully the plans You have for my life.  Help me to focus on the love and blessings I do have and not be so worried and anxious about what I don't have.  And thank You for coming to save us.

May the joy and peace of the infant Jesus fill our hearts this Christmas season!

(To see the sweetest interpretation of how God's ways are beyond our wildest imaginings, 

watch the video below.)

Merry Christmas!

To Believe or Not To Believe

On a cloudless autumn day, under the sky so peacefully blue, the sun shines down like rain.  The tops of the trees catch the light like fire and begin to flicker like flames in the soft breeze.

And in the midst of the warm, bright plans we make, doubt creeps in and darkness grips the soul of it all.

Sweet gray pots etched with silver words and holding baby flowers catch my eye and speak to me: Love, they say.  Joy.  Believe.  Words that remind me, words that call forth beauty, hope, peace, words that call me on to live these things in my life.

We don't need any more plants in our tiny apartment, but the words and the sweet baby orchid blossoms of white and purple beckon me.  On closer inspection, I see the pots are cracked--hence the reason they are sitting in the break room marked down for associates.   

I don't need a broken pot with another orchid in it, I tell my husband.

No, you don't, he says, but you're going to get one anyway.

He knows me well.

I find it difficult to choose only one, because I need all of these reminders!  I know that the greatest of these is Love and that in the humdrum routine of the daily grind I struggle often to be Joy, but I choose the healthiest looking plant with promising baby white blooms and it tells me Believe. 

Life goes on and continues to resist our efforts to move forward.  As darkness and doubt creep in, it would be easy to let them consume us, to crush our hope.  But there in the corner of our living room is a little broken pot that reminds us:  Believe. 

Believe.  And I know that this imperfect pot is a grace, a simple moment of beauty that God is using to show me my imperfect self and a deeper truth.

While we make our plans, we trust in God and His perfect plan.   We know that when the outcome is not what we would prefer it to be, ultimately it is what God wants, and therefore, it is perfect.  This is not always easy to grasp, but then, the cross never is.  And we know that without the cross, there would be no glory.

Without our cracks, our brokenness, our wounds, our weaknesses, our darkness, we would not need His Mercy. 

We are all imperfect, cracked and broken, but no matter how beaten and bruised we are, we always have a home with God.  He heals our wounds and uses them to make us more beautiful than we were before.  We learn to trust in Him.  And life happens and we get hurt again and again, but we continue to trust and believe in His Mercy, His Healing Love, His Goodness. 

Sometimes the wounds cut deep and take time to heal, and sometimes the darkness seems never-ending, and as we wait to feel healed, we wonder what the point is of continuing to believe, to hope.  But in the darkness and in our pain, we are closest to Him on the cross.  He holds us in His Heart so that our thirst is His thirst, and I have found that the surest way to quench this thirst for both of us is to choose to believe, to pray over and over, "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).

And He will.  He will absolutely help your unbelief.  And it probably won't be at all in the way you think, but He will fix your broken pot, and in the meantime, He'll give you grace, which might look like precious baby orchids.  Or something else entirely.  Or something that you can't even see.  No matter how the grace falls--like petals, like snow, like an invisible strength deep inside you--never forget that He loves you, He loves you, He loves you!

HE LOVES YOU.

P.S.  If you're looking for a more book-length encouragement on how to keep hoping in the darkest darkness, check out Daring to Hope by Katie Davis Majors.  I highly recommend it! #goodreads
 

Slowing Down

The last few weeks have been busy for me.  I attended several workshops on how to set small manageable goals and habits for developing a prolific writing life (or whatever life you want to have, really).  In the midst of that I've been meeting weekly with a group to prepare for Marian consecration on the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.  And in the middle of all of that, I've had some intensely stressful things to deal with.

While I enjoyed my workshops and meetings, they caused my work schedule to be even more up and down than usual and the stress was starting to take its toll.  I was so exhausted to the point where I almost wasn't sure I was going to get through work on Monday.  I was off early that day and two glorious days off in a row followed, so I had all sorts of lists going of things I wanted to accomplish and errands I needed to run.  Of course, I also had to crank out a few hours on my fiction writing project, since that's what I vowed to do in my writing workshop.

But by the time I left work on Monday, I knew none of that was going to happen.  No, not even the writing.  If I was going to survive this week, I needed to slow down and take time for myself.

It's interesting how clear it all came to me while I was taking those workshops.  I was busy making plans and creating schedules so I could follow my dream to write a book, and life happened, as life does, forcing me to reevaluate my priorities.

Like I said in my last post, writing is a part of me, and I owe it myself to write regularly.  What I've discovered for myself though is that the writing will take different forms.  Sometimes I'll have the creative energy to put into fiction (and eventually I will finish writing a book!).  And sometimes I'll need to write in my journal or on this blog in order to slow down, to reflect, to process what's on my mind and in my heart.

So yesterday I didn't venture far from home.  I enjoyed a leisurely morning, then did some basic cleaning around the apartment, walked to the nearby church for noon mass, watched an episode of Dr. Quinn (the whole series is on Amazon Prime, fyi) while I ate lunch, did some reading and journaling, walked to the library to return a few books, and then drove up to work to pick up a few grocery items for meals for the next two days just in time to give my husband a ride home.

I still accomplished some things, but I didn't kill myself over it.  I took the time to notice the clear blue sky devoid of any clouds, to feel the heat of the sun and the cool whisper of the gentle breeze, to sit on the balcony in silence and eat an apple while watching the neighborhood unfold beneath me.

And after that slow-mo day yesterday, I feel more rested.  I had the clarity to sit and write here, and there's creativity flowing in my brain again, so, depending on how the day goes, I may work on my fiction later as well.

Part of me feels guilty that I didn't follow the schedule I made for myself, especially after just coming out of those workshops!  But I think we need to learn to forgive ourselves when we don't accomplish everything we want to.  Sometimes, especially when life throws us curve balls, we have to slow down and take care of ourselves.  Otherwise, how can we ever be expected to care for others?

During these two days of slowing down, I've lived more intentionally, more mindfully, and I've reconnected with my center, which is Jesus.  He's still holding me close; He never let me go.  And He hasn't taken the pain away, but He's transforming it, and transforming me so that I can bear it with all the love with which He bears His.

This book by Fr. Michael E. Gaitley, MIC, changed my life. Just FYI.

Hello!

It's been awhile.  Too long.

You know how sometimes life is just going too fast and everything's changing and you can't keep up to catch your breath, much less blog?  This is the opposite of that.

Everything in our lives seems stagnant right now, and all the efforts we make to move forward have so far been fruitless.  It's hard not to get discouraged, but we've found ways to make sure we keep our priorities where they need to be and also take the time to stop and smell the roses.  I haven't written on here because I felt uninspired, but just making a few changes in my routine has made some huge improvements, so I thought I'd ease back into writing by discussing them here:

No news. . .is good news.
We stopped watching the news on a regular basis. It's nice being able to catch snippets here and there about the big, important things going on in the world, but without having to sift through the white noise and constant chatter of politicians spewing ignorance and hate.  This little change has gone a long way to improve our moods and our ability to deal with the frustrations that we face while working in customer service.

More Good News
In my last post I mentioned that I set a goal for myself to read the Bible in a year.  I was doing well for a few months, but eventually I reached a point where it became something on my to-do list that I just wanted to get over with.  I usually intended to do it right when I got home from work, but if I didn't feel like it, I would push it off by procrastinating (i.e. watching Netflix), and then feel guilty for reading anything else until I had read my daily Bible readings.

About the same time, I realized that I was miserable in the mornings.  Working at a coffee bar means I wake up stupid early most of the time.  Usually as I ate breakfast, I would browse Twitter and become increasingly depressed and angry at the world.  I tried to read my Bible in the mornings on occasion, but most days I didn't have enough time to finish that day's section and then I would be extra disgruntled and rushed.

I decided to do something completely crazy and get up an extra 15 minutes early every morning.  Which means 3:10 am some days, and 5:10 am other days.  It was crazy for me, and I knew it, but I had to try it.

Oh, how sweet it has been!

Beginning the day with scripture, whether or not I am 100% awake to fully appreciate it, puts me immediately in the presence of God.  I am filled with hope in His Word and not losing hope in humanity.  I am not really any more tired, and in fact I find myself more at peace and prayerful as I go about the rest of my day.  The rest of my day has more purpose and fulfillment, more order.  And when I get home from work, I don't have that guilty nudging to read the Bible hanging over my head.  I can read more if I want, or go back and re-read it with a slightly more aware state of mind, or I feel free to pursue other things, like the many writing projects I have started or reading a fictional book or exercising.  And I've done a lot more of all of those things!

Books I've Been Reading
It can be hard to get back into reading when you've been out of the loop for awhile.  Once I find a good book though, I have a hard time putting it down.  Two of the books I read recently were recommended to me and I liked both a lot, the third I picked up for free and it was a total bust. That said, I am now taking recommendations for good books!  On my list currently are The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery (thanks, Justine!), Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh  (I was supposed to read it in college, but didn't get far past the Spark Notes...oops), and The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (thanks, Morgan and Margaret!).

Recently read:

Wonder by R.J. Palacio (thanks, Kathleen!)
This was a very sweet story about a middle school boy with a facial abnormality who goes to school for the first time.  It's told from various viewpoints which add depth to the story and the characters.  I recommend reading it before the movie comes out in November!

The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult (even though it was free, no thanks!)
I was really into this book.  Despite weak character development and therefore underdeveloped relationships between characters, I was still intrigued by the narration of this story which explores the lives of both a former SS soldier and a survivor of Auschwitz.  Both are fictional, but the details written from extensive research provide a tiny glimpse into what life was like on both sides of the concentration camp.  It's not easy to read at times, but I kept going hoping for a good resolution.  I won't give away the details, but ultimately weak character development leads to a pitiful "twist" that's only a twist because it's so incredibly inconceivable that this character would do what they do.  I was angry for days, but hey, it motivated me to jump back into my own fiction writing so that I can write something better!  So that's something.

Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult (thanks, MIL!)
This was an interesting story about a black labor and delivery nurse who was ordered not to touch the baby of a White Supremacist.  The baby dies anyway and since the nurse was there when it happened, she is charged with murder.  Told from the perspectives of the nurse, her white lawyer, and the White Supremacist, it provides a timely glimpse into how race is treated both in the justice system and our society.  Again, Picoult's characters are flat and stereotypical at times, but it's a very interesting story and a good starting point into the issue for someone like me who has grown up white surrounded by white people and doesn't understand how/why racism is still a thing.

So again, I'm taking recommendations, but my husband has asked that they be happier.  I think he's tired of me yelling and crying at my books.

The Writing Life
Because (insert one or more of the many excuses I have made to explain why I haven't developed a disciplined writing routine, i.e. my inconsistent work schedule, my lack of a perfect writing space, my inability to pick one of the many writing projects I have started and focus on one, etc.), I am still working on developing a really consistent, disciplined writing life.  However, like I said before about how changing my morning routine to accommodate time for Scripture reading has given me more order and freedom in my day-to-day life, this has been leading to more and more times where I sit itching to write.  Also, like I mentioned above, reading poorly written books lights a fire in me and motivates me to want to do it better.

With real motivation, I've been working on sitting down to write for an hour each day, whether it's one of my novels, a nonfiction piece, or this blog.  My hope is that as I continue to practice, my stories will begin to unfold and I will find a good direction to follow a piece that I may actually finish.  The key will be keeping it a priority that I make the time to write!

We have a joke of the day at work,
and I get a lot of mine (like this one) from @ThePunnyWorld on Twitter.
I love this husky.

Diddly Squats

Exercising is not my thing, but of course, I try to get some in regularly.  I am not by any means a yogi, but I find that I feel better when I do yoga or even just stretch at least once or twice a week for 30 minutes.   I had a few videos of routines I like that move at a decent pace and aren't too long, but I eventually found it hard to focus when I had the videos memorized and just wanted to get through the routines.  Since yoga is a meditative activity as much as a physical one, I decided to go full-on Catholic nerd and incorporate spiritual meditation with my yoga.  I found audio of people reciting the rosary (on YouTube) and I started doing my yoga while praying the rosary and meditating on the mysteries.  It's a win-win situation.

And a bonus for all that reading I'm doing now?  The library is within walking distance, so whenever I finish a book, I go for a little walk to drop it off and pick up a new one if I need to.

Other Random Things

We have been cooking at home more which has helped us feel more settled (and full of delicious foods).  And as of right now (knock on wood), we are without a next door neighbor in our apartment, so the small second floor balcony is all ours.  We made it a home for our pepper plants and herbs as well as some comfy chairs.  We've gotten to do a lot more porch-sitting in the evenings either talking or reading or heckling the passers-by like Statler and Waldorf.

"It's good to be heckling again."
"It's good to be doing anything again."
"Doh-ho-ho-ho!" 

Overall, not much has changed in terms of the big things, but the little changes we're making have helped us approach life's daily trials with a little less anxiety and a lot more hope.

"Let me hear in the morning of Your merciful love, for in You I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go, for to You I lift up my soul." (Psalm 143:8)

The Fall

This fall has been the most beautiful I can ever remember experiencing.  The warmer temperatures and glorious sunshine that lingered allowed the leaves to ripen ever so slowly, drawing out their true colors in a spectacular show of God's palette.

Treetops stand out like flames blazing over rooftops, 

     

fireworks suspended in the branches,

 

glowing yellow dappled lights that work as the sunshine's minions even on the darkest, cloudiest days.

The extraordinary beauty of it all may be a result of weather patterns, or maybe I'm just more aware.  I am at a place of serenity, where God has given me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change (or at least attempt to change) the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.  

This season has been a serene one here in small-town Ohio.  At least, as far as the beauty of creation goes.  The world is tumultuous, our country is divided, and we as a race of humans are slowly coming to grips with the ramifications of our distracted half-living. But I have hope.

Because in the mornings I see the way the sun glows rising

and spreads its light through the trees to shower the earth.

And in the afternoons when I take walks and stop a thousand times to try and capture the way the light spreads through the leaves like fire 

and my phone's camera fails to do God's creation justice, I smile, knowing that all our man-made technology will never be enough to inspire and foster hope, goodness, love, mercy.  For that, we need something, Someone greater.

Because of that, I find myself more often on my knees giving thanks and seeking mercy.  On election day, I consecrated myself to Divine Mercy, because God is BIGGER and BETTER than this mess we have created for ourselves.  

I joke that I'm an eternal optimist--95% of the time.  But I am eternally optimistic, that is, optimistic about eternity.  No matter the messes we make for ourselves or the struggles we experience in dealing with other people or with our health or with the demons in our own minds, we have hope.  

I believe in our redemption through Christ and the cross, and I believe in the hope that rises with His resurrection, and I believe in the grace of His Divine Mercy which He offers any time we ask for it.

I pray that in this time of turmoil and change, as fall fades to winter and our country transitions to the next phase and the world continues to turn, that we all find the serenity and peace of mind needed to carry on hopefully.

Love and Coffee

Coffee coffee coffee is my mantra. I love coffee.  I love trying new coffees, making coffee, sharing coffee.  When a co-worker/coffee friend gave me a delicious bag of beans from a recent trip, I thanked her for sharing the coffee with me, and she replied, "Of course, that's what coffee is for."

Communion.  Every cup is a communion.  It is the sharing, the community, the relationships between co-workers and customers that have grown and evolved over the years that I love the most.

Still, I don't necessarily want to be a barista forever.  And in the restlessness of wondering, the aching for more than pouring coffee and making lattes and being constantly sucked dry of all energy from being on my feet and socializing all day (which let me tell you, for this introvert, is exhausting), I find peace only in the One who made the stars and the sea and the coffee trees.

Gratitude is too shallow a word to describe the depth of joy I find at the gift of His peace, manifested in His mercy and grace, especially in the darkness that has recently visited.  In the exhaustion that cannot be cured by coffee (yeah, I said it), He picks up my weary soul and carries me through it all.

Just after the recent canonization of my beloved Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta, I picked up a free copy from church of With Great Love, a book of reflections on Mother Teresa by Susan Conroy, who spent time working with the saint. Saint Mother Teresa and her patron, Saint Therese of Lisieux have always been close to my heart, and I aspire to follow their examples of putting great love into the every little action, no matter how simple.

In this looooong week of work full of too many too-early mornings, God, in His mercy and grace, graced me with the perfect reflection on this very subject from Susan Conroy.  It's a lesson I have heard so many times throughout my life, and a lesson I have attempted to apply to my time working in coffee over the years.  But as I recently heard, our spiritual lives are not linear.  They are not gradual uphill climbs, but rather, they are paths full of stumbling and falling and, by the grace of God, persevering toward that seemingly ever elusive holiness and perfect communion with Him.

Every cup is a communion.  Not a perfect communion, but a communion of all our broken humanity scooped up into a mug, a chalice, a hug, a smile.

"Let every action of mine be something beautiful for God," said Saint Mother Teresa.  As she wandered the streets of Calcutta, she and her sisters performed simple tasks, such as sitting with the dying so they didn't have to die alone, or providing a blanket to someone who was shivering, or giving a glass of water to someone who was thirsty.  As Conroy describes:

"It was not the work that was extraordinary, but rather, the way in which it was done.  It was the spirit of the work that made it extraordinary: the spirit of love, humility, tenderness and respect with which each human being was touched and held and cared for.  It was precisely this spirit of love and humility that made Mother Teresa a saint and made every action of hers 'something beautiful for God.'

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love.  Mother Teresa said that this is the reason we exist--to love and serve God by loving and serving one another....

"It doesn't matter how much we give, but rather how much love we put in the giving.  [Mother Teresa] encouraged us to 'put love into everything you do, and you will be fulfilling your vocation.'

"'God is Love,' Saint John the apostle tells us.  Do everything with God.  Do everything with 'the fullness of charity' in your heart, and you will be fulfilling your duty and your destiny in a way that is most pleasing to God."

No matter what I do, even as I search for work beyond barista-ing, I can put love into each little action, into each cup of coffee I pour, into each dish I wash, into each person I meet.

Yes, coffee coffee coffee is my mantra, but what is coffee all about?  It is about the people, the communion, the love.

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love."

 

 May we never forget.  <3  

The Fear

These days have been bored and restless.  The silhouette of the next thing is on the horizon, creeping closer.  It's not close enough yet that we can make it out, but it's coming.

The waiting leaves me restless, itching for something substantial to hold onto, wasting my summer watching Netflix because it's easier to get caught up in a silly TV show about beautiful people and their fake lives than to get caught up in my own.

Fear keeps me from opening up my heart to fully love and live right where I am.  I fear that there is something more that I should be doing.  I fear what that might be.  I fear, perhaps most of all, that it will keep us here.  I fear stepping out of the comfortable (even if the comfortable is slightly miserable).

Recently I re-read Kisses from Katie, the story of an ordinary young woman who stepped out of the comfortable to follow God's will for her life and is accomplishing truly amazing things in Uganda.  (I read it a few years ago, and wrote about my thoughts on it here.)  I am a different person than I was three years ago when I first read it, but I was no less convicted.  If anything, this time when I read it, my perspective was less sentimental and more realistic.  I saw how ordinary and imperfect Katie is, how all she accomplished was simply a result of her openness to God and letting Him work through her to reach other people.  I want to be that open, that trusting.

The funny thing is that I think I would be willing to drop everything and follow Him, but I can't for the life of me figure out where He wants me to go.  Which is why I have the sinking feeling that perhaps, at least for awhile longer, He wants me to stay right where I am.  Which scares me more than a disease-ridden Third World country.  The fear paralyzes me so that all I can do is click "Watch Next Episode" on Netflix.

Praise the Lord for the priest at Mass this past week.  He reinforced the message I received reading Katie's story by encouraging us to make Christ the center of our lives and let God interrupt our plans.  He reminded us that in our dark world, we the Christ-followers must be the light--of love, patience, peace. When he led us in song at the end of his homily, I felt the Spirit moving in me.

My heart knew the answers I was looking for:  that the restlessness comes from not being present in the moment.  Yes, maybe God wants me to go on and do great things, but how can I trust in the big things if I can't trust in the little things?

A big lesson Katie learned in Uganda faced with seemingly unending poverty, hunger, and sickness was that all she could do was help the one in front of her, and trust that God would take care of the rest until she or someone else came to help them too.  Her actions created a ripple effect that inspired many more people to reach out and help those in need in Uganda.  God is using her as a voice to cry out in the wilderness, to open the eyes of the body of Christ to the need, to call those of us who make up Christ's hands and feet to action.  All she did was help the person in front of her.

I can do that at work.  I can keep my focus on the customer in front of me and patiently serve them to the best of my ability without being overwhelmed by the long line of caffeine-hungry people behind them.  I can be positive at work and let the little annoyances go (even if in the last five minutes of a long shift I have to deal with a difficult customer who continues to test my patience and ask a lot more of me than I have the energy to give).  I can listen to people even when I have less than zero interest in what they are saying--sometimes people just need to talk.  I can bite my tongue against complaints and decisions I disagree with.  I can love one person at a time.  I can be a light.

Over the years, this blog has carried this theme, of how to love God while being a barista.  You would think that the message would have sunk in by now, but I tend to need constant reminders.

When I stepped down from management nine months ago, I experienced great relief and necessary detox from the stress of the previous two and a half years.  I rediscovered my love for both coffee and people, but eventually, when the people became too difficult to handle, I turned my focus to the coffee.  However, I found that if I wanted to pursue coffee as a career and succeed, it would have to become in some ways a god.  But I already have a God, and I love Him.  A lot.

I never imagined that I would still be here after so long, that I would still need these reminders, but here I am.  Imperfect.  Afraid.  I let the fear in, and it began to consume me, but by His grace I have been saved once again from myself.

Maybe God wants me to go out into the world and do great things, but I will never have the strength if I haven't fully abandoned myself to Him, if I don't fully trust Him in everything.  I will never be able to follow Him along great distances in the future if I can't follow Him right now.

Here I am, Lord.

All Is Grace

Happy feast of Our Lady of the Rosary!

Four years ago yesterday, I finished the 54-day rosary novena that I prayed for my future husband.  It was almost exactly a month later, and not a moment too soon, that the man who is now my husband asked me out.  

I trusted in the Lord with my heart, with my life.  It wasn't easy.  The Lord's ways are often very different than our own.  The road to follow Him is paved with blood, sweat, and tears, disappointments and failures and pain.  The journey requires trust and perseverance, but at the end of the day (and sometimes that day feels like a lifetime!), the Son always rises in glory.

Recently, the timing and circumstances were just right so that I was finally able to root out a source of significant stress and anxiety in my life.  I believe that once again, the Lord was guiding me, patiently, faithfully, along the painful path toward freedom.  I know that everything that happened leading up to that life-change was as necessary as the life-change itself.  This change is a grace that I am extraordinarily thankful for.  I don't have enough words to express my gratitude, but I feel kind of like this:

#peace

Life is a roller coaster of highs and lows, but I believe that these highs provide grace to help us persevere through the lows.  It's much easier to praise Him when all is dripping with sunshine than when all is covered in overcast gray.  I love You, Lord.  I thank You for ALL THINGS.  I believe that ALL IS GRACE.

A Glimpse of Spring

“…you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning.  Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. . .Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.  But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.  When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. . ."*

Every year it’s the same story—the earth dies, and rises again to new life in the spring.  The soul follows the same pattern. 

To be honest, it gets old after a while.  Year after year, you’re cruising along and everything is great and then the holidays come around and they should be enjoyable but they’re just stressful and then they’re over and you think you can breathe a sigh of relief and start fresh with the new year, but the new year is full of its own challenges and changes and bitterly cold days and snowy mornings and snowy evenings and salt-covered shoes that lead to salt-covered floors and sickness here and there and then here again because your stress is so high that your immunity is shot to hell and you know spring is just around the corner, and finally it’s the first of March, and still you drive to work through four inches of snow and ice and wonder why you are risking your life for coffee, because that’s what you do for a living, you make coffee.

Then one fine day, the weathermen say it’s going to start warming up tomorrow, and your wedding present has arrived from Denmark—a coffee maker, the finest in the world, proven to produce a nearly perfect cup of coffee every time.  Suddenly you see yourself ten, twenty, thirty years from now brewing coffee with this same coffee maker and sitting across from the man who loves you even when you go off in a hangry rage at Wal-mart because the brooms aren’t where you think they should be and you didn’t eat enough for breakfast.

As you sit in the parking lot of Home Depot nomming on your filets o’fish and he watches you with skeptical eyes, willing your body to accept this food so that you don’t go into a hangry rage inside Home Depot too, you realize that it’s not as warm out as the weathermen said it would be, and you aren’t surprised because it never snowed when they said it would and always snowed when they said it wouldn’t, but you know that when the snow does melt, you’ll be better.  Because every year, it’s true.  It’s never perfect, but it’s always better in the spring (and the summer, and the fall).

Just when the weary soul can’t take much more of the constant reaching and hoping for a glimpse of spring, it comes.

It comes on a ray of sunshine from the east, down the street and to my right it shines its light on the cold pavement, causes the dumpy leftover piles of snow to bleed into the street and pool puddles of mud on the sidewalks.  The trees are bare but still, and from one nearby comes the soft chirping song of a bird.  It isn’t snowing.  The sky isn’t a depressing canvas of gray.  The muddied grass mirrors the weathered and worn soul, but it is green enough that one truth pervades--

spring is coming.

“In those days though, the spring always came finally, but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.”*

*A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway

Death By Mocha

Happy National Coffee Day!!!

After a morning of  making countless $1 Pumpkin Spice Lattes, you might think that I wouldn't want to spend my afternoon writing about it.  HOWEVER, I drank a PSL myself and have that caffeine and sugar coursing through my veins and sparking inspiration all up in my heart and soul.

I came home and finally looked up this 20/20 story my mom has been telling me about, about baristas and the horrible things they do to people's drinks.  I found it fascinating.  I can relate to these bitter baristas.  In fact, just yesterday I had a moment of understanding as I realized the reason we get so frustrated with customers and they get so frustrated with us is that we are not speaking the same language.

The language we speak is that of well-trained and experienced baristas.  We know where these coffees come from, the altitude at which they are grown, the anatomy of a coffee plant, the names of the farmers who grow it, how the coffees are processed, what each step in the process entails, and what each step means for how that coffee will ultimately taste when we brew it, not to mention what all the variables are in the brewing process and how they affect the taste of the coffee.

The language our customers speak, on the other hand, is often (not always, but often) a twisted mess of coffee terms made popular by places from McDonald's to Starbucks to Intelligentsia.   They often know only that they need something to wake them up, or that they like caramel frappes, or that they hate coffee and want a coffee drink that doesn't taste like coffee.

The biggest challenge of our jobs as baristas is to pick through and translate the layers of this language in order to discern the unique palates of our many customers so that we can find the right drink for them--all in the most fast-paced, efficient, and pleasant way possible.

In general, baristas are grossly underpaid and undervalued for these intricate skills.  This only causes more bitterness and frustration as they attempt to read their customers minds, create personalized, handcrafted beverages, and navigate the crowds of zombie-like people dying for their daily caffeine fix on their way to work and school--all before 8 am.

In the 20/20 interview, the baristas spoke of decaffeinating rude people's coffee, or adding extra charges to their drinks.  I understand the desire to do these things--it's extremely tempting sometimes!  As anyone who has ever worked in customer service will tell you, people can be downright nasty.  It can be very disheartening, especially for those of us with the determined Anne Frank-attitude to see the good in humanity.

Thankfully, there are plenty of really wonderful people we encounter every day too!  These wonderful souls of grace who very clearly recognize us not as machines but as humans like themselves, are often what get us through the seemingly never-ending days.

I actually started writing a coffee shop musical back in college, based on my experiences.  It was a sad little story line, but this video beautifully portrays (*minus the bit of vulgarity*) the plight of the modern barista, set to a familiar musical:




What stuck out to me most was their question "When will I be redeemed?"

Well, here's what I've learned:  they have already been redeemed.  We all have.  It's a matter of accepting the sacrifice that paid our way out of this "hell" we're living.

We can't always change our situation (especially in this economy) and land our dream jobs right out of college (or even four years out of college), and in the meantime, we have to pay rent somehow.  We can't change how people act towards us, but we can change how we act toward them.  Instead of being the pretentious coffee know-it-alls we are stereotyped to be, we can adopt a servant's heart.

We can serve coffee with genuine joy and love.  We can be kind even to the rudest customers (you never know what horrible experiences someone might be going through!).  We can swallow our own opinions of what makes a good coffee and instead maintain the attitude that everyone has different tastes.

I have worked in coffee for 6 years, which is 4 more than I ever anticipated (trust me, I never anticipated being in management, but here I am).  As a whole, I have loved my experiences.  I love the people that I've met, the skills and knowledge that I've gained, the free coffee I've been allowed to drink, and even the work itself.  It's fun!  Some days I look around in gratitude and shake my head in wonder thinking, "They actually pay me to do this!"

Other days though, I shake my head thinking, "There is not enough money in the world. . ."  I find myself struggling through the daily grind to be happy and nice to people when I just want to sit in a corner and be angry and frustrated.  I get so tired (the kind of tired that is beyond caffeine's reach) of  being outgoing (I'm an extreme introvert) on a daily basis and being up for hours before the sun.  It's these days that make me ask the question:  what am I even doing here?

What I have come to understand through it all, is that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  In all my vain attempts to get out, I still sought God's will for my life.  My ultimate goal, after all, is not a successful career, but holiness.  God gave me glimpses of what may lay ahead, and with those glimpses, reminders that as much as I want to be, I am not ready for the next step.

Even though I have days where I curse the ground I work on (by the way, we actually call the ground we work on the IBG, because we believe our bar was built on an Indian burial ground), and want to cry at the sad state of humanity, and then I spill brown mocha powder all over my black pants, I believe it is all part of the process. It is part of growing up, yes, but most importantly, a part of being humbled, of dying to myself.

If we are to be redeemed, we must first die to ourselves, so that we may rise again with Christ:

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. [Luke 9: 23-24)

The particular slow and painful death God has chosen for me just happens to be death by mocha.

I still fail and fall frequently, but I am reminded over and over again of His redeeming love, mercy, and faithfulness.  I encourage you, wherever you are, to accept your form of "death" as the grace to participate in the fullness of your redemption.  It's all we can do, really.

But in the meantime, we'll do some of this too:

Shelby's Last Latte

The Infinite In-Between (take two)

We had both been looking for this:  a break from the mundane and drama-filled ball of stress we call life.  So two old friends embarked on a weekend encounter hoping to find refreshment for our thirsty souls.

The Spirit moved within us and we experienced God, were reminded of His Presence in our everyday lives, were filled with renewed vigor to live our lives for Him.  We reunited with old friends and shared two day of peace.  It was all we were given, and we soaked in every last drop.

Then came Monday.

We faced it stretching and yawning, renewed and prepared to face anything.  It was a good thing too, because I walked into a storm.

My professional life exploded (in a good, but rather challenging way), and with it came the reality of planning the simplest, lowest-key wedding possible while trying to avoid any and all things that have to do with the words:  Pinterest, bridal showers, monograms, and wedding registries.

The pressure keeps mounting and in all the chaos and noise I find that I'm not praying.  And when I try, I find that I can't.  

How can my Lord feel so near one day, then so far the next?  Because love is not about feeling.  Love is a choice.

It's the choice to wake up every day and dance in the rain and laugh with the thunder, even though I'd rather stay curled up in bed eating brownies and watching Disney movies.

It's the choice to be grateful when I'd rather be begrudging.

It's the choice to keep moving even as the tears flow freely.

And I seem to be caught perpetually in this infinite in-between:  dragged down by stress and fear, but wanting to keep walking on toward the light.  We are pilgrim souls, weak and imperfect, but redeemed.

I am Peter walking on water, and as soon as I look down at my own feet, I begin to sink.  My feet may fail, but Christ will not.  If only I could keep my eyes, my trust, my hope, my reason for being on Christ. . .

And that's become my prayer.  No words are needed, just a glance toward heaven and I know: 

I am Yours, and You are mine.

Enough

Everyone keeps asking if I'm ready for Christmas.

I think most people who ask that question are referring to Christmas shopping--have I gotten my shopping done?   Yes, because I didn't really do gifts this year.  It's not that I didn't want to give gifts--I generally enjoy giving them much more than receiving them.  It's that I can't really afford it this year, so I'm making Christmas breakfast for the fam instead.

When I get this question though, I hear--are you ready for this retail nightmare to end?  The answer to that is YES.  I look forward to spending 24 hours with my family and not having to worry that I'll get a call from work.  I am SO ready for that.

The real question though should be--am I ready for Christ?  I wonder if I've done enough this Advent to prepare for the coming of Jesus.  My holy hours were limited, my prayers barely formed, my Advent reading only a third finished, so it would seem that I haven't done nearly enough to prepare.  But when I think about the infant Jesus coming to save me from my sins, coming to love the lonely, to comfort the suffering--I know that my tired eyes and weary bones and exhausted spirit are more than ready to kneel beside the manger and welcome Jesus.

It's because I have nothing left to give--no gifts, no more effort to put into my work, nothing but my weak and weary self.  And the really humbling thing is that that is enough.  That is all He wants.  For me, for you, for the impatient and frantic last-minute customers, for us all to come to Him.  He is the Gift, and He wants to give Himself to us.

It's an awe-inspiring and humbling love.  Come, let us adore Him!

Merry Christmas!

The Infinite In-Between

Sun sifts through new green leaves across from the river
and we sit on a jacket in the grass
and eat egg rolls and fortune cookies
under the honeysuckle trees.

The breeze brings sweet snow-white drops,
and our laughter bounces around our mini-urban forest.

Birthday wishes across the years come true
in this late afternoon with the boy who brought me flowers,
and a giant jug full of Bell's Oberon, fresh from the tap.

For a moment, we are infinite.

Then bells chime the hour,
bells toll for us in all our dreaming.

I know we can't stay here--it's time to go home.

Time--and we grow older.

Soon there is no wishing on candles,
no song,
just too much ice cream.

The magic is in the moment,
and the moment is gone before I realize
how truly thankful I am for it.

I was too busy thinking about forever to remember that forever is now, in the infinite beauty of the in-between.

Photo courtesy of Southern Belle Magazine

I Stumbled Upon Grace

It's been a strange week.

I have a lot of ranting and raving I'd like to share here about the usual suspects, i.e. abortion, smart phones, the stupid, childish game they call politics. . .I could go on, but fear not.  I have instead decided to post something positive(!), a blog post I stumbled upon recently.

The post "I Don't Wait Anymore," is from a blog called Grace for the Road.  In it, the writer writes about the purity ring she received when she was sixteen, with the inscription "True Love Waits."  She writes about how this message affected her view (and the views of many young women) of love, of life, of God, of faith.

This is a topic that I am seriously passionate about--not just saving sex for marriage, but letting God be first, front and center, loving Him above all else, and trusting in Him enough to live a full life, instead of sitting around "waiting" for it to begin.  I used to write another blog with that focus, on being single and struggling to live that vocation according to God's will, so I thought it only fitting to share the wealth I found in this post.

Read and share!
http://gracefortheroad.com/2012/02/03/idontwait/