The Wisdom of Patience

I have lived in the world for almost twenty years, and yet each new day never fails to surprise me.  Sometimes the new day surprises me with good things -- a remarkably beautiful sunset, the revelation of a friend's love, a tasty dinner (especially if I made it!), or even just the realization of all the blessings in my life.  But sometimes the day holds bad surprises.

This has become increasingly more shocking to me in what I read in the morning paper, or what I come across on an Internet article, or what I watch on a YouTube video.  Humanity of course is flawed, but our culture bluntly reminds me of this fact every day.  Here I read about the murder of a Catholic priest in Syria by rebels who have received weapons from the USA.  There I watch a hate-filled video where ever more vindictive gay rights supporters attempt to turn people further from the truth.  Elsewhere I read about the horrible pro-choice protests going on in Texas, people shouting and cursing and making no sort of peaceful protest.  There are women there with tattoos all over their bodies and faces twisted into ugly yells.  There are young girls there holding disgusting and blasphemous signs about God, trying to "shock" whoever sees into listening to them.  Well, sister, it worked.  But the only shock I'm receiving is that such foul language is coming out of your mouth.  (May I add also that I am reading about the vileness of these protests only through LifeSite News and other pro-life websites; the mainstream media does not deign to portray any of the evil that is happening at these protests.)

Now, I have a choice here: I could either see all these evil things, these dark surprises, and say, "Where is God?" and sink into depression and bitterness.  Or I could say, "Well, that's it for humanity", become a hermit, and live a life of seclusion.  Or I could pray over and over and over, "Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.  Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."  Which do you think is the best choice? 

I'll admit that the first two are tempting.  I've had my share of both.  There have been times when I've sunk into depression and frustration, when I've wanted to glare at the heavens and ask what the point of it all is.  And I always need my quiet time, my space, my solace.  But I should neither rebel nor run away.  My God-given job as a Catholic is to stand and fight: not with violence, but with patience.

The quirk about patience is that you have to share it with yourself before you can truly give it to the world.  It's just like love -- "love your neighbor as yourself".  St. Francis de Sales says in his Introduction to the Devout Life (and I paraphrase), "To have patience is to possess one's soul."  We have to understand that holiness is a lifelong practice; sometimes just taking the first step towards God comes only at the last step of life.  But this is why the Church calls the spiritual life a journey.

We are all on a journey together -- the Christians and the atheists, the homosexuals and the heterosexuals, the pro-lifers and the pro-choicers, the liberals and the conservatives.  We are often radically opposed, and I can't say that I love the gay rights supporters or the pro-abortionists very much yet.  But I do know one thing we have in common: "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God".  It's just that we Christians have been given the gift of truth, and it is our job to share it.  I must only be patient with myself and my own failings, so that others can do the same.

"In Which Pooh Has a Very Important Thing To Do"

What to say after so long?  I feel like I've changed so much, but I also feel like I haven't changed at all.  But I have grown, I know that, whether it feels like it or not.  So I thought I would write "free-style", just write thoughts as they come and see what happens.  This is my very important thing to do -- important because it's been a while.  (By the way, I have recently become obsessed with Winnie the Pooh after watching the 2011 movie.  Hmm, have I really grown?)

If I were to use one word to describe this past year, from the time I left Lander, Wyoming, to spend three weeks backpacking in the mountains, to studying my brains out (almost literally) at Wyoming Catholic College, to now, sitting in my parents' kitchen at home in comfortable Ohio (or "the Shire", to evoke a good comparison), it would be process.

1. a systematic series of actions directed to some end     
2. a continuous action, operation, or series of changes taking place in a definite manner  (from dictionary.com)

Neither of these two definitions quite fits the bill, because my year has not been "systematic" or "definite" -- though perhaps it is from God's point of view.  He definitely sees it as directed to an end.  But I like the second definition, the words "continuous action ... or series of changes".  

When I ponder this, the first thing that comes to mind is the Church.  One big reason why I love the Catholic Church so much is for her divinely inspired balance between growth and solidness, adaptability and dependability, diversity and tradition.  We have a cycle of liturgical seasons, but they do not vary from year to year; every year is the same cycle.  The Church mirrors nature in this way, with its own cycle of seasons.  (Or nature mirrors the Church, because God created everything to point to something else.  So He created the natural cycle of the seasons to remind us of what the Church does.  Thanks, theology class!)  So too for my life, I have in many ways stayed the same; but on this soil that has grown richer year after year, new sprouts have begun to grow in all directions.  

It's time to begin, isn't it?/

I get a little bit/

Bigger, but then, I'll admit/

I'm just the same as I was/

Now, don't you understand/

That I'm never changing who I am? 

(Imagine Dragons, "It's Time"

It hasn't always been a blossom of flowers, though.  I have learned not only good things, but also flaws about myself.  There has been suffering along the way, new crosses that I've had to carry this past year, and beyond.  Every day, Christ asks me lovingly to take another step, and every day I either place that step willingly, or I struggle.  It's really all about trust.  

A recent study I read about families the other day said that the youngest tends to be a "free spirit".  I told my mom (being the youngest in my family, I was naturally curious to see what she thought), and she seemed to agree.  "Those are just over-generalizations" she said, but I knew she agreed with the experts about me.  I'm quite a quiet person, so you wouldn't really know it on first sight, but I can say without boasting that I am one of the most adventurous persons in my family.  (For Pete's sake, I went all the way to Wyoming for a 21-day wilderness expedition.  I ought to be adventurous.)  On some level, it's hard to admit, because we all have such a tendency to put ourselves down.  I suffer this especially, I think, but my year at Wyoming has been so full of truth that I can recognize this about myself and thank God for it.  

Why do I say all this about free spirits?  Because, as I said, it's all about trust.  God used my stubbornness and my free spirit to get me to Wyoming, but wouldn't you know it, those same characteristics often turn against me in my relationship to God.  It's so hard to "let go, and let God".  But a priest told me recently in confession to make frequent acts of surrender, and here is what I pray:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

Or, I simply pray: My God, I surrender.  I surrender all into Your hands.

So, process.  To sum up, I would say that this word doesn't only describe my past year; it describes the rest of my life.  And what a process it will be.  Lead me on, my God.