The "Little Way" of Suffering

 This year I am a catechist in a level one atrium doing Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. It's a Montessori style Catholic religious education program. I have 14 (!!!) 3-6 year olds in my atrium and they honestly amaze me every week.

A few weeks ago, I was presenting the Magi to a three year old and as I finished, I said "I wonder why they brought gold to the baby Jesus." Sweet Jack said to me, "because He's a KING!" 
I said "YES! He's a King! But the Magi were kings too.... so why was Baby Jesus different?" (Honestly I had no idea what he would say.) And Jack said "because of the FATHER!" 

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

This week I made it to the chapel every day but Friday. So we're putting that in the W column. 

I think the two best things I have ever done to become more holy are 1. putting my physical body in the same physical space as Jesus for more than 10 minutes per day and 2. getting in the WORD daily. 

I have a LOT of rough edges that the Lord is trying to smooth out. On one hand, I am hesitant to call anything that I experience suffering because I know that I live a very privileged life: a life that people pray for, a life that I've prayed for. On the other hand, any time we die to ourselves and our preferences, it is a suffering, isn't it? And if I brush it off as a minor inconvenience or an annoyance, I'm not letting the Lord into it. If I call it suffering, then I can extend an invitation to the Lord to let Him come in. 

Since the new liturgical year began at Advent, I feel like my word for this year is Suffering. But I also don't think that there is going to be any huge trial I face or any big obstacle I have to overcome. Instead, I think the Lord is teaching me the "little way" of suffering. He's walking through my heart and picking up little stones that have been firmly rooted. It hurts when He lifts them up, but then He asks, "can I come and abide in this space too?" And have I not been praying "Thy will be done" for decades? So yes, Jesus, you can come and abide even in the hard rocky crevices and the tenderness underneath, even in the dirt and the mud and the space between. You can come and be the light in the places that have been shrouded in darkness for far too long, even when it hurts a little to let you get there. Thy will be done. 

Routines

 If you have ever met me even for 30 seconds you either know explicitly or could assume correctly that I love lists and routines and organization and order and resolutions and planners. 

I think it's because my thoughts often feel chaotic, so I have to create order in my world externally This is probably also why I rarely drink and don't like to feel tipsy at all. 

We could go down a whole rabbit hole, but I'll save that for therapy.

I know that COVID changed everything for everyone, and even though I didn't change jobs or friend groups or locations (well I did move, but only 2.4 miles down the road),  I still feel like my whole world turned upside down when we had to be isolated from people for so long. Last year I spent a lot of time trying to remember what life was like before COVID and getting back to that. I'm finally fully adapted to working from home and I'm even starting a new small group that will meet at my house. 

All this to say, my routines are really important to me (am I on the spectrum? who knows?) and they are really giving me a lot of LIFE this year so far. 

My morning routine involves waking up, coming in my office, taking 3 appointments (9am, 10am, 11am) and at some point grabbing my yogurt + granola + collagen coffee for some protein and caffeine. 
Ideally lunch involves a little mental health walk and some eggs + protein, but this week coming up I have a few meetings at the church during my normal lunch break. 

After work I like to drop by the chapel and pray for a bit, and I've committed to doing #NT24 where we read the whole New Testament in 24 days. Today is day 7? I think? We're finishing John's Gospel. 

At night to wind down, I do some reading, do my skin care, and floss my teeth. Then I take my vitamins, do my NYT crossword and go to bed around 12:30. 

On Friday I went to a prayer night at my friend's house and afterwards some friends were like so how are you, how have you been? And I was like honestly, I'm just like living this quiet little life that looks the same everyday and I kinda love it. I feel like it gives me so much freedom. 

Prayer was inconsistent this week, my goal is to make it to the chapel every single day this week. Hold me accountable, bloggy. 

Love you, mean it, byeeeee <3 

Snowday Sunday

 All the rumors are true. Long form writing is back. The world of 160 characters just isn't enough for me. 

My goal is to write something every Sunday. Maybe it's cathartic. Maybe it's just because I tend to be an external processor. Maybe it's because I'm super nostalgic and want to be able to read my thoughts in a few years.

If this blog were an old friend I had neglected for a few years, I'd have a lot to update it on, but I think instead of walking down memory lane I'll just pick up at the present day and see how it goes. 

My parish recently opened a new Adoration Chapel and my prayer life has benefited tremendously. Today's second reading from 1 Cor 6:13-20 reminded me why that's the case. We're body AND soul, and physically getting my body in the same space as Jesus's is for my good, whether or not my soul recognizes a difference in the moment. 

Today's first reading from 1 Sam 3:3-10 reminded me of a few conversations I've had lately about the voice of the Father. Samuel hears the Lord calling, but he thinks it is Eli who is calling him. But if God's voice sounded completely different from Eli's voice, Samuel wouldn't have gone to Eli. Eli's voice sounds like the voice of the Father to Samuel. It is so important that fathers' voices sound to their children's ears and mind like the voice of God the Father because they are the image of the Father to their children. 

A few months ago I was presenting the Good Shepherd to a six year old in my atrium. When we finished the story I said, "I wonder what the voice of the Shepherd sounds like." He looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "welp, we can't know!" It was a very funny interaction, but I was thinking about it for a long time afterwards. How many adults really believe it's true that we can't know what the Shepherd's voice sounds like? And if they don't believe it's possible to know what His voice sounds like, surely they're not listening to it and practicing hearing it. And if we haven't listened for it and practiced hearing it, how can we speak with it when it's time to pass it on to our children? 

I hope all of us learn to hear clearly the voice of the Father, to love it, to cherish it, and to act on it.