Happy Easter, everyone!
I took the last week off from work and travelled south to Washington DC with my brother, the intrepid traveler that he is. We stayed at the JVC House in the Columbia Heights neighborhood (it was the second time in two weeks that they put me up, and the second time around they put up me and Joe! Thanks, guys!), and spent most of our evenings with them: eating dinner, drinking wine, watching Law & Order, and talking about Europe and social justice-y things. Jesuit Volunteers are cool.
I have fallen thoroughly in love with that city. I already have a favorite restaurant (Amsterdam Falafel, if you ever find yourself in the Columbia Heights area), bookstore (Idle Time Books—a wonderful, understated, and charming place that plays French lounge music and sells the best collection of used books I’ve ever seen), and place to go to church (the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Staggeringly gorgeous.) Joe and I did decidedly tourist-y things during the days—visiting the monuments, going to museums, walking around a LOT—but it was nice to have a few favorite places to go where we felt a little less like tourists. I don’t see myself living there for a long time, but if I could swing graduate school there, I’d be a happy camper!
By the by, the basilica is a wonderful place to be during Triduum! Every priest in the archdiocese comes to concelebrate with the cardinal and the apostolic nuncio to the US. All the seminarians (literally, ALL of them) help serve the Mass. It’s a really beautiful thing to watch. I needed more than an hour to check out all of the side altars in that church!
We schlepped back to Camden after the Good Friday service because our community had planned on having an Easter dinner together (some months ago, the school that Mark and Jenna work for donated a turkey to our community, and we kept it in the freezer for a special occasion. We called the feast “Easter-giving.”) The Vigil Mass at Sacred Heart began at 4:30am (when my alarm clock went off, I actually said out loud, “Are you CRAZY?”), but it was gorgeous. One lady was initiated into the Church, and she just glowed with joy and sacramental grace when she received her Sacraments! She and her godparents led candlelight procession outside the Church (we sang a LOT of “alleluias”) and back in, and even at 5:30 in the morning, the people on the streets took a reverent notice. We went back into the church to finish Mass, and the whole event finished around 7am.
I decided to take advantage of the energy that I still had and went for a run after mass, but I had to hurry home and shower because most of us went to Christine’s church for the 9am Easter service. I really like her church—they have a great ministry team that serves as the pastoral team. Protestant services still feel a little foreign to me, but they’re always so joyful and profound that I certainly enjoy them. Kingsway (the name of the church) starts its services with a praise and worship session, and something pretty profound happened during it on Sunday.
Granted, I had gone to bed at midnight, awakened at 3:30am, been awake for a two-and-a-half hour Mass, and run three miles already that day. I had received a few messages from friends back home who told me they were thinking of me at Easter Vigil. It was my first Easter away from home. An experience (which I’ve always kept to myself) from Good Friday 2009 was still fresh in my mind, as its promise was fulfilled this Easter. So I was teetering on the edge of emotional to begin with.
But when the pianist played the first few measures of “Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)”, I just lost it. It wasn’t desperate bawling, but the tears just flowed up and out of me, and I didn’t have the strength to stop them. The song reminds me of home, my old Newman Center, and special moment with a special friend. I couldn’t really help myself.
The slightly mortifying part was that while none of my roommates noticed this (I was sandwiched in the row between Jenna’s boyfriend and my brother, so they couldn’t see me), the lead pastor did. He look over his shoulder, and even though my vision was blurred, I could see him turned toward me for part of the song. Keep in mind—I’ve only been there once before, and I doubt he even saw me that time. So, from his perspective, some unfamiliar woman was standing in his church, weeping like her heart would break on Easter morning. Being the good pastor that he is, when he came and shook hand with our row at the sign of peace (I’d composed myself by then), he gave me a pretty emphatic look and leaned in to ask if I was all right. I answered yes—I just get emotional about Easter.
The truth is, I don’t know what caused the sudden flood of emotion, but I felt a lot better afterwards. Then I napped for four hours, and we ended the day with a great dinner with our community (and a few extended community members! Siblings, significant others, etc).
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Monday, April 5, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Blessed are those who mourn...
One of the reasons I have been mildly terrified about my boss’ hospitalization/on-going health problems keeping her from work was my genuine concern that if the s*** hit the fan and we had a true emergency, no one would really know what to do.
Lo and behold, we had an emergency today. A tenant, who was by all accounts a very nice man, was found dead in his apartment. Sadly, that isn’t really a new thing around here, but it was the first time we had to go at it without Irma.
I didn’t go upstairs to wait with the body—my coworker and leasing agent went. I stayed downstairs to mind the office and try to manage affairs for everyone else. It turned out to be a good thing I was there, because the daughter of the deceased came racing in. She asked for her dad by name, and I guess the look on my face told her that he was already gone.
She reacted the way you would expect; dropped her bag, tried to get away from me, hyperventilating, and saying, “No” over and over again. Before I could stop her she tried to get on the elevator to go to her father’s apartment, and actually took a swing at me when I tried to stop her (don’t worry, I ducked.). Security intervened then because EMS expressly forbade the family from entering the apartment. After she calmed down we managed to get her into the security office to sit down.
A detective briefly interviewed the daughter and the fiancée of the deceased. They wanted to go upstairs immediately to see the remains, but security took me aside and said that it would have been too traumatic for the family to see their loved one in that way. So I took them (after a LOT of talking) to a conference room in my office and got them settled with water and tissues.
After we got them settled, hours of agonizing waiting began. I escorted the daughter to the bathroom because she needed to vomit (which always seems to make people feel better when they’re upset), and came back and waited with them until the authorities released the body.
I would have liked to have consoled the family in shifts, since I didn’t feel adequately prepared to counsel anyone so soon after such a traumatic event. But a co-worker sort of put her foot in her mouth and offended the freshly-bereaved family, who politely (I confess, I would not have been so polite!) threw her out of the room. They asked me to stay—I guess I’d established some sort of trust with them. (Evidently, helping someone who tried to hit you when they need to vomit must make them think you’re trustworthy.)
Grief comes in waves—sometimes we sat in silence, sometimes the ladies would burst out laughing, but more often than not they broke into unadulterated weeping. Whenever one or both was lucid enough to want to talk to me, they’d soon phone a relative and the waves of sobs would come back.I’ve never lost a parent, but I’ve lost enough people before to know that all of this was natural, and I certainly remember how it feels. Nothing you feel seems rational, and for a moment you think you may be absolutely crazy for feeling the way you do.
For my part, I didn’t talk a whole lot unless I was spoken to or telling them what was happening at that moment (“The authorities have given permission for the funeral home to take him.” “The funeral director will be here within the hour.” “Would you like me to call a pastor?” That sort of thing.) When the funeral director had finally arranged the remains so that the family could see him, both women hugged me before they left to see him.
I suppose I could have gone upstairs with them, but I felt like it would have frightened the women too much if I hadn’t reacted well to the body. So the guards and the funeral director escorted them upstairs. By then, it was long into my lunch break, so I went for a walk by the river and got some food.
I have a feeling we’ll all be pretty useless for the rest of the day—this morning sapped our strength. At least it’s Friday, so we can blow off some steam after work! The whole morning was emotionally exhausting (God bless the priests, chaplains, and pastors who do this all the time!), so I’ll be glad to not have to come in tomorrow.
Lo and behold, we had an emergency today. A tenant, who was by all accounts a very nice man, was found dead in his apartment. Sadly, that isn’t really a new thing around here, but it was the first time we had to go at it without Irma.
I didn’t go upstairs to wait with the body—my coworker and leasing agent went. I stayed downstairs to mind the office and try to manage affairs for everyone else. It turned out to be a good thing I was there, because the daughter of the deceased came racing in. She asked for her dad by name, and I guess the look on my face told her that he was already gone.
She reacted the way you would expect; dropped her bag, tried to get away from me, hyperventilating, and saying, “No” over and over again. Before I could stop her she tried to get on the elevator to go to her father’s apartment, and actually took a swing at me when I tried to stop her (don’t worry, I ducked.). Security intervened then because EMS expressly forbade the family from entering the apartment. After she calmed down we managed to get her into the security office to sit down.
A detective briefly interviewed the daughter and the fiancée of the deceased. They wanted to go upstairs immediately to see the remains, but security took me aside and said that it would have been too traumatic for the family to see their loved one in that way. So I took them (after a LOT of talking) to a conference room in my office and got them settled with water and tissues.
After we got them settled, hours of agonizing waiting began. I escorted the daughter to the bathroom because she needed to vomit (which always seems to make people feel better when they’re upset), and came back and waited with them until the authorities released the body.
I would have liked to have consoled the family in shifts, since I didn’t feel adequately prepared to counsel anyone so soon after such a traumatic event. But a co-worker sort of put her foot in her mouth and offended the freshly-bereaved family, who politely (I confess, I would not have been so polite!) threw her out of the room. They asked me to stay—I guess I’d established some sort of trust with them. (Evidently, helping someone who tried to hit you when they need to vomit must make them think you’re trustworthy.)
Grief comes in waves—sometimes we sat in silence, sometimes the ladies would burst out laughing, but more often than not they broke into unadulterated weeping. Whenever one or both was lucid enough to want to talk to me, they’d soon phone a relative and the waves of sobs would come back.I’ve never lost a parent, but I’ve lost enough people before to know that all of this was natural, and I certainly remember how it feels. Nothing you feel seems rational, and for a moment you think you may be absolutely crazy for feeling the way you do.
For my part, I didn’t talk a whole lot unless I was spoken to or telling them what was happening at that moment (“The authorities have given permission for the funeral home to take him.” “The funeral director will be here within the hour.” “Would you like me to call a pastor?” That sort of thing.) When the funeral director had finally arranged the remains so that the family could see him, both women hugged me before they left to see him.
I suppose I could have gone upstairs with them, but I felt like it would have frightened the women too much if I hadn’t reacted well to the body. So the guards and the funeral director escorted them upstairs. By then, it was long into my lunch break, so I went for a walk by the river and got some food.
I have a feeling we’ll all be pretty useless for the rest of the day—this morning sapped our strength. At least it’s Friday, so we can blow off some steam after work! The whole morning was emotionally exhausting (God bless the priests, chaplains, and pastors who do this all the time!), so I’ll be glad to not have to come in tomorrow.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
6 Not-So-Quick Takes Thursday
Please pardon my long absence from the blogosphere! I can't really claim to have been more busy than normal, so I guess I have no excuse. But work has got inordinately more stressful in the past few weeks, so maybe there is some excuse.
I can’t think of anything hugely post-worthy, so in the spirit of those 7 Quick Takes that I see here and there (though they are traditionally done on Friday. I am such a rebel.), I will just point out a few things that have happened on late that will fill people in on the last few weeks.
1. Adoration: I love Adoration, but since I left Bellingham it was a lot harder to find place to make a holy hour. However, our new friends, the Franciscan Volunteers (FMV’s) over at St. Anthony of Padua parish, are in charge of running Adoration on Monday nights in their church. Last week it was my turn to coordinate my community’s spirituality night, and I just wasn’t feeling up to leading (or participating in, for that matter) a discussion. So rather than labor through a conversation that I felt might be difficult, I took everyone to Adoration, instead. I think we often forget that listening in silence to God is as integral to a prayer life as talking to Him. I know it did me a world of good to catch some quiet face time with Jesus, and I know it made Him happy to be visited by the Camden JV house. I’m also hitting Adoration on the first Friday of each month at a parish in Central Philadelphia, and if the FMV’s move Adoration to Tuesday nights, I’ll likely go every week for a few hours. I’m so happy to have found places that offer this devotion—it always helps me, no matter what I’m doing.
2. Kevin and Becky: Our wonderful support people (the aforementioned Kevin and Becky) came to visit us this past Monday for this week’s spirituality night. We are so lucky to have them to support and guide us—both during serious times like spirituality nights, and during fun times, like before and after spirituality nights! We sat around and talked and laughed for a long time the other night, and it was just so much fun, and so relaxing, to have them with us.
3. Work: All right, I’ll come clean: work has been ulcer-inducing for about a month. Last month, my boss had resolved to quit her job in this office. I support her in that decision with 90% of my heart—she is far too over-extended working here, and many of the players in the complex game that is running this building have unwittingly placed far too much responsibility on shoulders. Between that, the fact that she has a large family who depends on her, not to mention three daughters and manifold health problems, she really needs a less stressful job!
But that other 10% of my heart is split the following ways: 5% doesn’t want her to leave because I really love working with her and can’t imagine what this job would be like without her. As far as I’m concerned, she makes this job what it is. That 5% wants to scream, “Please don’t leave me! I don’t know what I’m doing without you!” The other 5% knows that this office would practically disintegrate as soon as she leaves—she’s the only licensed social worker here, she knows the tenants and their life stories by sheer dint of the fact that she is related by blood or marriage to practically EVERYONE who lives here, and because she’s been here for six years, she has established such deep trust with our clients that they won’t deal with anybody else in our office. She’s the only competent case manager here, as well—I genuinely worry that the quality of our office’s work with decline if she leaves.
And if that weren’t stressful enough, she was admitted to the hospital on Monday. Those manifold health problems came to a peak that morning and we rushed her to the ER. She’s been in the hospital ever since. That day, I was the only person in the office after she left, which was quite harrowing and very stressful. Since then, we’ve been hobbling along without her.
On top of all that, a tenant that I worked with pretty closely died over the weekend. There have been moments this week when I wanted to crawl under the desk and suck my thumb instead of dealing with the chaos swirling around me.
4. Springtime: In a miraculous reversal of weather patterns, it has been BEAUTIFUL around here for the past week and a half. Today we expect a lot of rain, but from last Friday until Wednesday, it has been positively gorgeous outside! That kind of weather requires running by the river and reading on the back stoop. I know we’re in for some scorchers this summer, so a fair-skinned carrot top like me has to pick and choose when she goes outside. (Even on Sunday, I covered my neck, shoulder, and upper chest with a blanket. Skin cancer just doesn’t sound appealing).
5. Weekend reprieve: Given the high level of stress at work the past month, I made a point to REALLY enjoy myself last weekend. On Saturday I went to an Irish pub in Philly with Bridget, a volunteer with the Sisters of Mercy (known as the Mercy Volunteer Corps). She and I share an affinity for Celtic music, and we want to find some live music to listen to. The live band wasn’t actually a band; it was a group of people who happen to play Irish instruments. Whoever can and wants to just shows up and sits with the musicians, and they improvise and play along. It was a really nice time, just hearing them play (especially because it was FREE!).
The next day, Sunday, I slept in, went for a run by the river, and then went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art with Steph, my roommate. On the first Sunday of every month, the PMA has free admission! I plan to go every month until I move away (except next month—the first Sunday is Easter Sunday. Although if we go to the Vigil Mass the night before, we can certainly hit the museum before Easter dinner). The European art section has AMAZING pieces from old altars and such, and ancient illustrated prayer books, a mock chapel with real French Gothic stained-glass windows, etc. I felt like a kid in a candy store, but it was better because all the proverbial candy was free!
After the PMA closed, Steph and I took pictures on the steps out front (the Rocky steps! We sang the theme song and everything!) and in front of the Rocky statue. They’re on my phone, so I can’t post them here. :( THEN we grabbed a quick bite at Cosí and hung out in Central Philadelphia until evening Mass at Old St. Joes’s. It was a perfectly lovely day.
6. The eagle has landed: Rejoice, my brethren: Joseph Michael Downes has returned to American soil! Joe came back from his Tour d’Europe yesterday. He landed safely in Boston and is staying with my godparents, our aunt and uncle. He’s going to visit with all of our family members in Massachusetts for a while, especially our Uncle Terry (Joe’s godfather), who is pretty sick right now. (Don’t worry—he should make a full recovery. It’s just a long row to hoe at this point. He’s such a trooper). Before Joe journeys west, he’s going to come visit me in Camden! I can’t wait to see him—I haven’t seen him in seven months. We’ve never gone that long without seeing each other!
Hmm, that was only six takes. But it’s already a pretty long blog, so I’ll stop now.
I can’t think of anything hugely post-worthy, so in the spirit of those 7 Quick Takes that I see here and there (though they are traditionally done on Friday. I am such a rebel.), I will just point out a few things that have happened on late that will fill people in on the last few weeks.
1. Adoration: I love Adoration, but since I left Bellingham it was a lot harder to find place to make a holy hour. However, our new friends, the Franciscan Volunteers (FMV’s) over at St. Anthony of Padua parish, are in charge of running Adoration on Monday nights in their church. Last week it was my turn to coordinate my community’s spirituality night, and I just wasn’t feeling up to leading (or participating in, for that matter) a discussion. So rather than labor through a conversation that I felt might be difficult, I took everyone to Adoration, instead. I think we often forget that listening in silence to God is as integral to a prayer life as talking to Him. I know it did me a world of good to catch some quiet face time with Jesus, and I know it made Him happy to be visited by the Camden JV house. I’m also hitting Adoration on the first Friday of each month at a parish in Central Philadelphia, and if the FMV’s move Adoration to Tuesday nights, I’ll likely go every week for a few hours. I’m so happy to have found places that offer this devotion—it always helps me, no matter what I’m doing.
2. Kevin and Becky: Our wonderful support people (the aforementioned Kevin and Becky) came to visit us this past Monday for this week’s spirituality night. We are so lucky to have them to support and guide us—both during serious times like spirituality nights, and during fun times, like before and after spirituality nights! We sat around and talked and laughed for a long time the other night, and it was just so much fun, and so relaxing, to have them with us.
3. Work: All right, I’ll come clean: work has been ulcer-inducing for about a month. Last month, my boss had resolved to quit her job in this office. I support her in that decision with 90% of my heart—she is far too over-extended working here, and many of the players in the complex game that is running this building have unwittingly placed far too much responsibility on shoulders. Between that, the fact that she has a large family who depends on her, not to mention three daughters and manifold health problems, she really needs a less stressful job!
But that other 10% of my heart is split the following ways: 5% doesn’t want her to leave because I really love working with her and can’t imagine what this job would be like without her. As far as I’m concerned, she makes this job what it is. That 5% wants to scream, “Please don’t leave me! I don’t know what I’m doing without you!” The other 5% knows that this office would practically disintegrate as soon as she leaves—she’s the only licensed social worker here, she knows the tenants and their life stories by sheer dint of the fact that she is related by blood or marriage to practically EVERYONE who lives here, and because she’s been here for six years, she has established such deep trust with our clients that they won’t deal with anybody else in our office. She’s the only competent case manager here, as well—I genuinely worry that the quality of our office’s work with decline if she leaves.
And if that weren’t stressful enough, she was admitted to the hospital on Monday. Those manifold health problems came to a peak that morning and we rushed her to the ER. She’s been in the hospital ever since. That day, I was the only person in the office after she left, which was quite harrowing and very stressful. Since then, we’ve been hobbling along without her.
On top of all that, a tenant that I worked with pretty closely died over the weekend. There have been moments this week when I wanted to crawl under the desk and suck my thumb instead of dealing with the chaos swirling around me.
4. Springtime: In a miraculous reversal of weather patterns, it has been BEAUTIFUL around here for the past week and a half. Today we expect a lot of rain, but from last Friday until Wednesday, it has been positively gorgeous outside! That kind of weather requires running by the river and reading on the back stoop. I know we’re in for some scorchers this summer, so a fair-skinned carrot top like me has to pick and choose when she goes outside. (Even on Sunday, I covered my neck, shoulder, and upper chest with a blanket. Skin cancer just doesn’t sound appealing).
5. Weekend reprieve: Given the high level of stress at work the past month, I made a point to REALLY enjoy myself last weekend. On Saturday I went to an Irish pub in Philly with Bridget, a volunteer with the Sisters of Mercy (known as the Mercy Volunteer Corps). She and I share an affinity for Celtic music, and we want to find some live music to listen to. The live band wasn’t actually a band; it was a group of people who happen to play Irish instruments. Whoever can and wants to just shows up and sits with the musicians, and they improvise and play along. It was a really nice time, just hearing them play (especially because it was FREE!).
The next day, Sunday, I slept in, went for a run by the river, and then went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art with Steph, my roommate. On the first Sunday of every month, the PMA has free admission! I plan to go every month until I move away (except next month—the first Sunday is Easter Sunday. Although if we go to the Vigil Mass the night before, we can certainly hit the museum before Easter dinner). The European art section has AMAZING pieces from old altars and such, and ancient illustrated prayer books, a mock chapel with real French Gothic stained-glass windows, etc. I felt like a kid in a candy store, but it was better because all the proverbial candy was free!
After the PMA closed, Steph and I took pictures on the steps out front (the Rocky steps! We sang the theme song and everything!) and in front of the Rocky statue. They’re on my phone, so I can’t post them here. :( THEN we grabbed a quick bite at Cosí and hung out in Central Philadelphia until evening Mass at Old St. Joes’s. It was a perfectly lovely day.
6. The eagle has landed: Rejoice, my brethren: Joseph Michael Downes has returned to American soil! Joe came back from his Tour d’Europe yesterday. He landed safely in Boston and is staying with my godparents, our aunt and uncle. He’s going to visit with all of our family members in Massachusetts for a while, especially our Uncle Terry (Joe’s godfather), who is pretty sick right now. (Don’t worry—he should make a full recovery. It’s just a long row to hoe at this point. He’s such a trooper). Before Joe journeys west, he’s going to come visit me in Camden! I can’t wait to see him—I haven’t seen him in seven months. We’ve never gone that long without seeing each other!
Hmm, that was only six takes. But it’s already a pretty long blog, so I’ll stop now.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Rice and Beans Fast
I was going to write all about the (optional) fast that JVs are challenged to try each Lent, but I found that Tom O'Keefe, a Baltimore JV, put it much more eloquently in his blog than I could.
My community is not taking it to the degree that JVC Baltimore is; we add different seasoning to our rice (for example, we've had Spanish rice and curried rice the past couple of nights). And we've only committed to it for our evening meal-- about half of my lunches since the fast began have been rice and beans; the rest of the time I've grabbed a yogurt or something. But still, "rice week" (we call it that, even though it's a ten-day challenge) has been really eye-opening for me.
I'm trying to take Friday fasts REALLY seriously this year, which is something that I'm struggling with even as I type this blog. I have dicovered this Lent something that either didn't occur to me that past few years, or I just forgot: Fasting is hard. I don't generally eat a whole lot to begin with these days because I sit still at a desk most of the time. I do consume more calories when I work out, but I don't remember being so hungry the mornings after I exercise during Lent. (And I was an endophins junkie all last year, as all of Vatican Row will corroborate. I managed to work out and fast without any problems all of last Lent.) At any rate, I don't remember having so much trouble concentrating or feeling so weak.
I remind myself that Christ pulled this off for 40 straight days in the desert. He was as fully human as He was fully divine, and His fast reminds me and that giving my body a little less of what it wants is a great way to prime myself spiritually. Christ's reasons for his fast were different. Pope Benedict XVI wrote about Jesus' fast and temptation in the desert:
My community is not taking it to the degree that JVC Baltimore is; we add different seasoning to our rice (for example, we've had Spanish rice and curried rice the past couple of nights). And we've only committed to it for our evening meal-- about half of my lunches since the fast began have been rice and beans; the rest of the time I've grabbed a yogurt or something. But still, "rice week" (we call it that, even though it's a ten-day challenge) has been really eye-opening for me.
I'm trying to take Friday fasts REALLY seriously this year, which is something that I'm struggling with even as I type this blog. I have dicovered this Lent something that either didn't occur to me that past few years, or I just forgot: Fasting is hard. I don't generally eat a whole lot to begin with these days because I sit still at a desk most of the time. I do consume more calories when I work out, but I don't remember being so hungry the mornings after I exercise during Lent. (And I was an endophins junkie all last year, as all of Vatican Row will corroborate. I managed to work out and fast without any problems all of last Lent.) At any rate, I don't remember having so much trouble concentrating or feeling so weak.
I remind myself that Christ pulled this off for 40 straight days in the desert. He was as fully human as He was fully divine, and His fast reminds me and that giving my body a little less of what it wants is a great way to prime myself spiritually. Christ's reasons for his fast were different. Pope Benedict XVI wrote about Jesus' fast and temptation in the desert:
The temptations are a descent into the perils bestting mankind, for there is no other way to lift up a fallen humanity. Jesus has to enter into the drama of human existence, for that belongs to the core of his mission; he has to penetrate it completely, down to its uttermost depths, in order to find the "lost sheep," to bear it on his shoulders, and to bring it home.For the rest of us, mere mortals already ensconced in the drama of human existence, our fast helps purify us by stripping us of the rest of the drama and focusing on the basics of our human condition—that is, the only important part of the drama, which is our relationship with God. What do I truly need? What do I merely want? Can I, by abstaining from "extras" for forty days, unite myself more closely with God?
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Musing out loud
Since I’ve been battling some fairly negative feelings about work, I decided to take an inventory and look for things that affirm my vocation as a JV this year. What follows is what I focused on, and then what I took away from it.
Scenario:
About a week ago, one of our tenants was trying to cross the street in front of our building. It was dark and raining, so it was hard to see him, and a driver hit him. (Don’t worry—he’s OK. Busted knee. He should be fine in 6-8 weeks.)
But I didn’t know that he was OK when I got the radio call that a tenant had been struck by a car. So I grabbed his medical file and sprinted out of the building, pulling on my coat as I ran. (I think my speed rivaled my sixteen-year-old self during track season). He was conscious and talking, so Irma and I weren’t really needed, but we hung out anyway to keep him safe from traffic. After they loaded him into the ambulance, we went back to the office and business as usual.
The following day, one of the guards was teasing me for how fast I booked it out of the building to the accident (The guards tease me a lot. Third grade was over a long time ago, guys…). Before he could go on, a tenant punched him in the shoulder (softly) and said, “Shut up. She loves us, that’s all.”
Thoughts:
“We are not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful.” –Blessed Theresa of Calcutta
Social justice is intimately linked with the dignity of the human person. Where that dignity is not being affirmed, there is injustice. So at its base, my job is to affirm the dignity of our tenants.
And the thing I am coming to realize is that, while I spend most of time trying to affirm dignity in the most practical of ways, like organizing home health care, scheduling doctor’s appointments, and making sure everyone is well fed and taking their medicine, those tasks are not really my primary function.
To affirm the dignity of the poor and marginalized, we have to start by loving them. My primary function is to love the people here.
I didn’t realize it, because so many days I look at my work as a long list of tasks to accomplish. But checking off all the items on that list is not why the tenants are happy that we’re here.
They’re happy that we’re here for the simple fact that they feel loved because we are here.
Mother Theresa’s words remind me that some days will not be successful—patients don’t always comply with doctor’s orders, doctors’ offices don’t always complete the paperwork we need, and people that we try to help don’t always survive. But the point of our efforts isn’t that we succeed every time; it’s that we keep trying because we love the people we’re serving. The mere fact that we show up and keep going every day is more important than winning every battle that presents itself.
Scenario:
About a week ago, one of our tenants was trying to cross the street in front of our building. It was dark and raining, so it was hard to see him, and a driver hit him. (Don’t worry—he’s OK. Busted knee. He should be fine in 6-8 weeks.)
But I didn’t know that he was OK when I got the radio call that a tenant had been struck by a car. So I grabbed his medical file and sprinted out of the building, pulling on my coat as I ran. (I think my speed rivaled my sixteen-year-old self during track season). He was conscious and talking, so Irma and I weren’t really needed, but we hung out anyway to keep him safe from traffic. After they loaded him into the ambulance, we went back to the office and business as usual.
The following day, one of the guards was teasing me for how fast I booked it out of the building to the accident (The guards tease me a lot. Third grade was over a long time ago, guys…). Before he could go on, a tenant punched him in the shoulder (softly) and said, “Shut up. She loves us, that’s all.”
Thoughts:
“We are not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful.” –Blessed Theresa of Calcutta
Social justice is intimately linked with the dignity of the human person. Where that dignity is not being affirmed, there is injustice. So at its base, my job is to affirm the dignity of our tenants.
And the thing I am coming to realize is that, while I spend most of time trying to affirm dignity in the most practical of ways, like organizing home health care, scheduling doctor’s appointments, and making sure everyone is well fed and taking their medicine, those tasks are not really my primary function.
To affirm the dignity of the poor and marginalized, we have to start by loving them. My primary function is to love the people here.
I didn’t realize it, because so many days I look at my work as a long list of tasks to accomplish. But checking off all the items on that list is not why the tenants are happy that we’re here.
They’re happy that we’re here for the simple fact that they feel loved because we are here.
Mother Theresa’s words remind me that some days will not be successful—patients don’t always comply with doctor’s orders, doctors’ offices don’t always complete the paperwork we need, and people that we try to help don’t always survive. But the point of our efforts isn’t that we succeed every time; it’s that we keep trying because we love the people we’re serving. The mere fact that we show up and keep going every day is more important than winning every battle that presents itself.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thankful
For a spirituality night this week, our exercise was to create a list of fifty things we are thankful for. Here's the one I came up with:
1. honey in my tea
2. homemade baked goods
3. a healthy, strong body
4. health insurance for when unexpected things happen to it
5. a community of amazing people to come home to every night
6. a big family back home
7. the best friends a girl could ask for cheering me on
8. parents who have always been committed to raising good people
9. two very different, but no less fantastic, siblings
10. the real presence in the eucharist
11. the holy rosary
12. spiritual reading a la Sheen and Merton
13. the collective works of Jane Austen
14. Jane Eyre
15. quirky reading, a la Christopher Moore and John Green
16. mozart
17. chopin
18. show tunes
19. pasta carbonara
20. growing our own parsley and basil in the backyard
21. homemade salad dressing
22. crockpot meals
23. la boheme
24. organic cotton yarn
25. foot rubs
26. hand lotion
27. herbal essences shampoo
28. yoga
29. new balance running shoes
30. sleepy monk organic coffee
31. ipod armbands
32. spanish rice
33. jewelry pliers
34. letters from home
35. care packages
36. emails/facebook messages from loved ones
37. patco subway rides to philly
38. jason robert brown musicals
39. josh groban
40. mocha breves
41. travel coffee mugs
42. breakfast for dinner
43. rowing machines
44. ferry rides
45. big hugs
46. cheek kisses
47. new stationary
48. the hallmark aisle of the supermarket
49. village thrift sweaters
50. suede high heels
1. honey in my tea
2. homemade baked goods
3. a healthy, strong body
4. health insurance for when unexpected things happen to it
5. a community of amazing people to come home to every night
6. a big family back home
7. the best friends a girl could ask for cheering me on
8. parents who have always been committed to raising good people
9. two very different, but no less fantastic, siblings
10. the real presence in the eucharist
11. the holy rosary
12. spiritual reading a la Sheen and Merton
13. the collective works of Jane Austen
14. Jane Eyre
15. quirky reading, a la Christopher Moore and John Green
16. mozart
17. chopin
18. show tunes
19. pasta carbonara
20. growing our own parsley and basil in the backyard
21. homemade salad dressing
22. crockpot meals
23. la boheme
24. organic cotton yarn
25. foot rubs
26. hand lotion
27. herbal essences shampoo
28. yoga
29. new balance running shoes
30. sleepy monk organic coffee
31. ipod armbands
32. spanish rice
33. jewelry pliers
34. letters from home
35. care packages
36. emails/facebook messages from loved ones
37. patco subway rides to philly
38. jason robert brown musicals
39. josh groban
40. mocha breves
41. travel coffee mugs
42. breakfast for dinner
43. rowing machines
44. ferry rides
45. big hugs
46. cheek kisses
47. new stationary
48. the hallmark aisle of the supermarket
49. village thrift sweaters
50. suede high heels
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Daily Mass Gospel
Is anyone else vibing on the daily Mass Gospel these past few days? (Luke 11:46-54)
Christ was such a badass sometimes! Love it! I wish I were that articulate when seized by righteous anger...
Christ was such a badass sometimes! Love it! I wish I were that articulate when seized by righteous anger...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Cheerier things, as promised
OK, I can’t leave you all hanging with that last post. My life isn’t that dramatic all the time.
My birthday came the Sunday before last, so Saturday night my roommates threw a shindig at our humble abode. A few of the Philly volunteers came over with a cake and a card, and we hung out, played games, drank and talked.
This is how awesome the Philly JVs are: They got me a plastic ring with the Virgin Mary on it. The card read: “We know you really like Jesus, so we got you a ring with a picture of his mom on it.” :)
The next day there was an FJV party at the Philly JV house, so we went over there to help host. (The free food was a good incentive, too.) There was more cake, too! After some milling around, meeting and greeting, we took off for Mass at Old St. Joe’s, the oldest Jesuit parish in Philadelphia.
In case there was any doubt that I would have a blessed 23rd year, the priest at Mass quoted Lamb, one of my favorite books, in the homily. And there was Adoration with Taize for an hour after Mass. I didn’t know about it until the priest placed the host in the monstrance, but I had a rosary in my purse and decided to stay for a while. My friend Katie, a Philly JV, stayed with me. Further, they announced that this week, a relic of St. John Vianney will be at the parish for veneration from October 1st-7th. I’m headed there after work today to check it out.
When I got home, my roomies gave me their gift—a little chest of drawers with coupons in it. The coupons were for things like outings with each roommate (movie night with Mark, cooking with Christine, a trip to Walt Whitman’s grave (!) with Stephanie, a trip to the store for sweet things with Amber, and a walk to the waterfront with Jenna). JV community life is pretty sweet.
We went on retreat the following Thursday—the southern region of JVC east headed to Our Lady of Matapani (mad-uh-puh-NYE) in Maryland for a community-based retreat. In our completely unbiased opinion, we think we’re the best community. Hands down. :P
Matapani is a beautiful facility. The buildings were arranged in an oval, with a chapel at one end and a meeting hall on the other. There were cabins on either side. The buildings surrounded a big grassy area with a gazebo. Each cabin had a porch, where we spent a significant amount of time jamming with a guitar, a fiddle, a harmonica and a voice (they just can’t shut me up) improvising music. We got a football game going behind the cabins. There was personal, one-on-one time with each community member (we call these meetings “dyads”), big community meetings, Mass and a community mate game (much like the newlywed game). We won at the community part (we shall not speak of the bonus round, which 1) is the reason we lost and 2) had nothing to do with community. We’re not bitter or anything…)
Thrown into this whole weekend were the following factors: I woke up on my birthday with a cold, and consequently lost my voice for the entire duration of the retreat (excluding the porch jam session). Four out of six Camden JVs have succumbed to this illness in the last two weeks. Amber and I seem to be suffering from its lingering effects (sweet Amber has an ear infection. I just can’t stop coughing and have very low energy). We also pulled the mother of all pranks on the Philadelphia JVs (they had it coming—they started the war). It was quite the whirlwind of secrecy, guile, deception, and logistics to pull it off.
We came back to work on Monday, but Monday night I didn’t fall asleep until 6am because I kept coughing. (Before you ask, no, we did not have any cough syrup. No, I didn’t buy any when I got sick. But that’s only because I didn’t have a cough then.) So when I walked into work the following day, they sent me right back home because I looked terrible.
So I spent yesterday at home on the couch. I watched the best sick day movie in the world—Robin Hood: Men in Tights. I was there when TWO birthday packages came in the mail, so they cheered me right up. I slept like a baby, both during the day and last night. I still don’t feel 100%, but at least I can function.
Those were some happy days. I love the days following a birthday, when the surprises sort of trickle in. It shall be a good year.
My birthday came the Sunday before last, so Saturday night my roommates threw a shindig at our humble abode. A few of the Philly volunteers came over with a cake and a card, and we hung out, played games, drank and talked.
This is how awesome the Philly JVs are: They got me a plastic ring with the Virgin Mary on it. The card read: “We know you really like Jesus, so we got you a ring with a picture of his mom on it.” :)
The next day there was an FJV party at the Philly JV house, so we went over there to help host. (The free food was a good incentive, too.) There was more cake, too! After some milling around, meeting and greeting, we took off for Mass at Old St. Joe’s, the oldest Jesuit parish in Philadelphia.
In case there was any doubt that I would have a blessed 23rd year, the priest at Mass quoted Lamb, one of my favorite books, in the homily. And there was Adoration with Taize for an hour after Mass. I didn’t know about it until the priest placed the host in the monstrance, but I had a rosary in my purse and decided to stay for a while. My friend Katie, a Philly JV, stayed with me. Further, they announced that this week, a relic of St. John Vianney will be at the parish for veneration from October 1st-7th. I’m headed there after work today to check it out.
When I got home, my roomies gave me their gift—a little chest of drawers with coupons in it. The coupons were for things like outings with each roommate (movie night with Mark, cooking with Christine, a trip to Walt Whitman’s grave (!) with Stephanie, a trip to the store for sweet things with Amber, and a walk to the waterfront with Jenna). JV community life is pretty sweet.
We went on retreat the following Thursday—the southern region of JVC east headed to Our Lady of Matapani (mad-uh-puh-NYE) in Maryland for a community-based retreat. In our completely unbiased opinion, we think we’re the best community. Hands down. :P
Matapani is a beautiful facility. The buildings were arranged in an oval, with a chapel at one end and a meeting hall on the other. There were cabins on either side. The buildings surrounded a big grassy area with a gazebo. Each cabin had a porch, where we spent a significant amount of time jamming with a guitar, a fiddle, a harmonica and a voice (they just can’t shut me up) improvising music. We got a football game going behind the cabins. There was personal, one-on-one time with each community member (we call these meetings “dyads”), big community meetings, Mass and a community mate game (much like the newlywed game). We won at the community part (we shall not speak of the bonus round, which 1) is the reason we lost and 2) had nothing to do with community. We’re not bitter or anything…)
Thrown into this whole weekend were the following factors: I woke up on my birthday with a cold, and consequently lost my voice for the entire duration of the retreat (excluding the porch jam session). Four out of six Camden JVs have succumbed to this illness in the last two weeks. Amber and I seem to be suffering from its lingering effects (sweet Amber has an ear infection. I just can’t stop coughing and have very low energy). We also pulled the mother of all pranks on the Philadelphia JVs (they had it coming—they started the war). It was quite the whirlwind of secrecy, guile, deception, and logistics to pull it off.
We came back to work on Monday, but Monday night I didn’t fall asleep until 6am because I kept coughing. (Before you ask, no, we did not have any cough syrup. No, I didn’t buy any when I got sick. But that’s only because I didn’t have a cough then.) So when I walked into work the following day, they sent me right back home because I looked terrible.
So I spent yesterday at home on the couch. I watched the best sick day movie in the world—Robin Hood: Men in Tights. I was there when TWO birthday packages came in the mail, so they cheered me right up. I slept like a baby, both during the day and last night. I still don’t feel 100%, but at least I can function.
Those were some happy days. I love the days following a birthday, when the surprises sort of trickle in. It shall be a good year.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Life with the Saints
I just finished reading a book by a Jesuit priest called My Life with the Saints by James Martin, SJ. Very, very good book.
It tells the story of his own life, from a lukewarm Catholic upbringing, to college and a job in corporate America, to his own conversion of heart which led him almost directly to the Jesuit order, and learning about himself and his faith along the way. He describes how the saints popped up in his more or less secular early life—learning French as a child, travelling as a student—and played a huge role in his eventual conversion of heart after a few stressful years of working in corporate America after college. It follows him entering the Jesuits with an, at best, fair understanding of the nuts and bolts of being Catholic, and growing in his faith and vocation, all through the while describing how each particular saint had a profound impact of his life. (My Catholic friends, be advised: not all of the people he refers to are canonized yet.)
Joan of Arc, Thérèse of Lisieux, and Bernadette Soubirous come up in his early life, beginning when he learned the French language and travelled to France after college, then returning on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. He attributes his conversion of heart to Thomas Merton, and how he found the monk by mere chance—he came home from a particularly stressful week of work and flipped on PBS, when he caught the last few minutes of a documentary on the monk. Intrigued by the look of serenity on Merton’s face in one of the photos, Martin went out and found Seven Storey Mountain, Merton’s autobiography, which lit the flame in his heart to consider life in a religious order. Ignatius Loyola, naturally, came up when he entered the Society of Jesus. Pope John XXIII’s sense of humor and capacity for love led him to a surprising lesson in chastity, particularly concerning how to chastely handle falling in love after he made his first vows. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta and Dorothy Day lead him to a better understanding of how to care for the poor. Francis of Assisi and Thomas Aquinas are two diasperate, but no less holy, examples of priests. Mary, Mother of God (she's the last chapter-- for me, this was something of a hunk of cheese at the end of the maze) provided a beautiful example of trust in God and what it takes to follow God's will.
Martin gives an introduction of how he first comes into contact with each saint—a movie, painting, or documentary are often his only window to the saints in his early life, and later on he learned of them from fellow Jesuits or other Catholics in his life, or from his own studies. Then he gives a biography of each saint and explains how and why their lives influenced his own. He also observes how each saint’s example can inspire the rest of us mere mortals. Better yet, the saints sympathize with the struggles that we go through here on earth—they have struggled through the same frailties of being human. We can see ourselves in them because they’ve been through it before.
But best of all, Martin unearths one of the best pieces of advice about the contemporary quest for sainthood that I have ever read:
It is funny that I should have stumbled upon this book, because Martin works as the cultural editor of America: The National Catholic Weekly. One of the perks we enjoy as a JV community is that we receive a free copy of the magazine each month. I really enjoy this new Jesuit connection in my life! For some reason, having gleaned a little more about this priest’s life from this book, I feel distinctly more connected to the Jesuits. We learned all about Ignatius at Orientation, and it’s really cool to feel so connected to one of his priests all these years later via JVC and America.
It tells the story of his own life, from a lukewarm Catholic upbringing, to college and a job in corporate America, to his own conversion of heart which led him almost directly to the Jesuit order, and learning about himself and his faith along the way. He describes how the saints popped up in his more or less secular early life—learning French as a child, travelling as a student—and played a huge role in his eventual conversion of heart after a few stressful years of working in corporate America after college. It follows him entering the Jesuits with an, at best, fair understanding of the nuts and bolts of being Catholic, and growing in his faith and vocation, all through the while describing how each particular saint had a profound impact of his life. (My Catholic friends, be advised: not all of the people he refers to are canonized yet.)
Joan of Arc, Thérèse of Lisieux, and Bernadette Soubirous come up in his early life, beginning when he learned the French language and travelled to France after college, then returning on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. He attributes his conversion of heart to Thomas Merton, and how he found the monk by mere chance—he came home from a particularly stressful week of work and flipped on PBS, when he caught the last few minutes of a documentary on the monk. Intrigued by the look of serenity on Merton’s face in one of the photos, Martin went out and found Seven Storey Mountain, Merton’s autobiography, which lit the flame in his heart to consider life in a religious order. Ignatius Loyola, naturally, came up when he entered the Society of Jesus. Pope John XXIII’s sense of humor and capacity for love led him to a surprising lesson in chastity, particularly concerning how to chastely handle falling in love after he made his first vows. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta and Dorothy Day lead him to a better understanding of how to care for the poor. Francis of Assisi and Thomas Aquinas are two diasperate, but no less holy, examples of priests. Mary, Mother of God (she's the last chapter-- for me, this was something of a hunk of cheese at the end of the maze) provided a beautiful example of trust in God and what it takes to follow God's will.
Martin gives an introduction of how he first comes into contact with each saint—a movie, painting, or documentary are often his only window to the saints in his early life, and later on he learned of them from fellow Jesuits or other Catholics in his life, or from his own studies. Then he gives a biography of each saint and explains how and why their lives influenced his own. He also observes how each saint’s example can inspire the rest of us mere mortals. Better yet, the saints sympathize with the struggles that we go through here on earth—they have struggled through the same frailties of being human. We can see ourselves in them because they’ve been through it before.
But best of all, Martin unearths one of the best pieces of advice about the contemporary quest for sainthood that I have ever read:
Each saint was holy in his or her own unique way, and revealed God’s way of celebrating individuality. As C. S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity: “How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been: how gloriously different are the saints!”
This gave me, and gives me, enormous consolation. For I eventually realized that none of us are meant to be Thérèse of Lisieux or Stanislaus Kostka or Pope John XXIII. “For me to be a saint means to be myself,” wrote Thomas Merton. Each saint lived his or her call to sanctity in different ways, and we are called to imitate them in their diversity. There is no need for anyone to do precisely what Mother Teresa or St. Francis of Assisi did. Instead, we are called to lead holy lives in our own places and own times and own ways. And that meant that my own quest for holiness was, ultimately, a quest to be myself.
Pope John XXIII meditated on this truth in an entry recorded in 1907. Reflecting on the lives of the saints, Angelo Roncalli notes that he is not meant to be a “dry, bloodless reproduction of a model, no matter how perfect.” He is meant rather to find sanctity in his own life, according to his own capacities and circumstances. “If Saint Aloysius had been as I am,” he concluded, “he would have been holy in a different way.”
– James Martin, S.J.
It is funny that I should have stumbled upon this book, because Martin works as the cultural editor of America: The National Catholic Weekly. One of the perks we enjoy as a JV community is that we receive a free copy of the magazine each month. I really enjoy this new Jesuit connection in my life! For some reason, having gleaned a little more about this priest’s life from this book, I feel distinctly more connected to the Jesuits. We learned all about Ignatius at Orientation, and it’s really cool to feel so connected to one of his priests all these years later via JVC and America.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Itemized lessons
After a whole week of work and community living, I feel I much present some of the things I’ve learned so far as a JV. In the spirit of JVC, I shall categorize them by the four values of JVC.
Community
Sriracha tastes good on everything. Everything.
Boys don’t like to hear about the gynecologist or the mechanics of natural family planning, but the ones who pretend it doesn’t bother them are really sweet.
Dance parties: very good.
The day revolves around family dinners.
Social Justice
The system is flawed! Burn down city hall! Storm the capital! March for systematic, structural change! (Please note the incredibly facetious tone of my writing…)
On a more serious note: Social justice is difficult. Read the Oscar Romero prayer about it—it consoles me. I have said from the beginning of this process that social justice begins and ends with the dignity of the human person. Where that dignity is not being affirmed, there is injustice. The issue is that a person’s pride is deeply entwined in their dignity, and it is easily wounded when they are in a vulnerable position. So they don’t always want help, or at least, not the help that we can provide them. My job is to find a subtle way to affirm dignity without wounding pride.
Simple Living
Despite the fact that it would save money, mouse traps are not reusable.
Investing in plastic containers to keep ants out of the food is a good idea.
Gym membership be damned—all you need are motivated roommates, running shoes, one absurdly long bridge, and a weight bench in the basement to stay in shape.
Ants will survive a fall into the honey jar. They try and swim their sticky way home. It’s funny to watch.
Spirituality
It’s OK to disagree, as long as everyone is respectful. (Which everyone here is.)
It will get you through everything from uncomfortable meetings with tenants to, to homesickness, to the latter part of a three-mile run.
More to come later. I promise my updates will be more regular in the future!
Community
Sriracha tastes good on everything. Everything.
Boys don’t like to hear about the gynecologist or the mechanics of natural family planning, but the ones who pretend it doesn’t bother them are really sweet.
Dance parties: very good.
The day revolves around family dinners.
Social Justice
The system is flawed! Burn down city hall! Storm the capital! March for systematic, structural change! (Please note the incredibly facetious tone of my writing…)
On a more serious note: Social justice is difficult. Read the Oscar Romero prayer about it—it consoles me. I have said from the beginning of this process that social justice begins and ends with the dignity of the human person. Where that dignity is not being affirmed, there is injustice. The issue is that a person’s pride is deeply entwined in their dignity, and it is easily wounded when they are in a vulnerable position. So they don’t always want help, or at least, not the help that we can provide them. My job is to find a subtle way to affirm dignity without wounding pride.
Simple Living
Despite the fact that it would save money, mouse traps are not reusable.
Investing in plastic containers to keep ants out of the food is a good idea.
Gym membership be damned—all you need are motivated roommates, running shoes, one absurdly long bridge, and a weight bench in the basement to stay in shape.
Ants will survive a fall into the honey jar. They try and swim their sticky way home. It’s funny to watch.
Spirituality
It’s OK to disagree, as long as everyone is respectful. (Which everyone here is.)
It will get you through everything from uncomfortable meetings with tenants to, to homesickness, to the latter part of a three-mile run.
More to come later. I promise my updates will be more regular in the future!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
I'm here: A Camden update
Hey, everyone!
As you may or may not have surmised from my long (or so it feels) absence from the Internet, I a) have been very busy since I left the Wednesday, and b) have been without Internet that entire time. Look for updates here and there, but don’t be surprised if it takes me a day of two to respond if you email or Facebook me; I’ll only have access to the web at work.
So, we (the Camden JVs) have arrived! The reception in the community so far has been very positive, and very overwhelming. Former Jesuit Volunteers (hereafter referred to as FJVs) came to visit us within hours of our arrival, most (thankfully) bearing food or beverages for us. I don’t think we’ve touched any of the food we picked up at the grocery store yet, and this is our fifth day here!
But before I get too far into our time in Camden, I should start with the journey out of Seattle to Baltimore.
My last few days out west were full of that “warm sadness without loss.” I hugged goodbye most of the people that I meant to see before taking off, especially at the lovely shindig my family threw for me before going. Thanks to all the Bellingham people who make the drive to Everett to see me off! Love you!
I visited some good friends before going, too. When I walked away from a few homes that held the people I love, it felt like my heart was ripping through the muscles of my back. But even in those moments, I feel absolutely certain that this (Camden, and more broadly, JVC) is exactly where I am supposed to be.
I flew out of Seattle around midnight on Wednesday night/ Thursday morning. Since it was a red-eye flight and I was flying toward the sunrise, I basically skipped Wednesday night. So it felt like Wednesday and Thursday were all one, long day. At the airport in Baltimore, I managed to grab a latte and some breakfast before taking a cat nap by the baggage claim. Eventually I found my community hanging out near where the bus was supposed to pick us up, and after the standard confusion of moving sixty people to one location on a bus, we got on a charter bus and drove to Blue Ridge Summit in Pennsylvania.
Blue Ridge is simply gorgeous. It’s owned by the Jesuits in the area, and frequently is used for retreats like the one we were on. We had a lot of talks, small groups and presentations on the core JVC values: community, spirituality, simple living, and social justice. We had Mass three times: once to kick off the retreat, one for the feast of the Assumption, and one we call the missioning liturgy, when we are all blessed and sent forth to our cities. At that Mass we each received our Jerusalem cross, which is a traditional symbol of missionaries. It’s one large cross, representing Jerusalem, and four little ones around it, representing the four corners of the earth. In JVC, the four crosses stand for the four values.
We got to Camden without incident and found our little house, which is downright luxurious by JVC standards. Carpeting, two stories plus a basement, laundry machines, a dishwasher, 2.5 baths, 4 bedrooms. The dining room table is a big, beautiful, sturdy thing that just screams for people to sit around it and be a community every night. We are VERY well taken care of around here.
The only drag, and certainly what will become the cross that I bear in terms of staying connected with my family and friends, is that we have very limited access to the Internet. I do have a computer at work, but I can't use Facebook or anything like that there. This is all part of learning to live simply, which is one of the main reasons I became a JV; I wanted to purify my faith and life by rooting it in the Gospel, and part of that is giving up worldly goods. Having such a great house makes that a little more difficult, but we're at least going to try going without internet. I don't know if it will last; we plan to revisit the issue in about a month and make a decision as a community. Until then, my apologies if I'm slow to get back to you!
We visited each other's placements the last two days (after a lovely tour d'Camden led by Nick, an FJV, and my amazing cousin), and I have to say that I think we were all placed really well. I like my supervisor, Irma. She's a cool lady, and I look forward to working with her.
Also (I don't have photos of it yet, but believe me), I got a pleasent surprise: I get my own office!!! I am officially a grown up, with a job and an office! Granted, my computer there leaves something to be desired, but I'll take what I can get.
Last night marked our first trip to Philadelphia, so we hopped a PATCO subway to the big(ger) city. We had a great time with some Philly FJVs at a bar called Noche, and then headed back to the Philly JV house. It was a good time. Those of us who headed back last night got caught in a truly diluvian rainstorm last night. I actually took out my contact lenses and carried them in my hand because the rain kept washing them out! Some of my clothes (the ones that can't be dried in the drier) are STILL not dry yet! It was quite the adventure.
I'll write more later about our neighborhood and work-- I start at my job on Monday.
If you want to reach me, PLEASE email me instead of using Facebook (call me for the address; I don't want to put in on a public blog.). It will be easier for me to respond to you. Or you can send me snail mail (like my lovely friend Sara did-- I got a letter this morning!)-- call, text, or email for the address. :)
Take care, everyone!
Molly
As you may or may not have surmised from my long (or so it feels) absence from the Internet, I a) have been very busy since I left the Wednesday, and b) have been without Internet that entire time. Look for updates here and there, but don’t be surprised if it takes me a day of two to respond if you email or Facebook me; I’ll only have access to the web at work.
So, we (the Camden JVs) have arrived! The reception in the community so far has been very positive, and very overwhelming. Former Jesuit Volunteers (hereafter referred to as FJVs) came to visit us within hours of our arrival, most (thankfully) bearing food or beverages for us. I don’t think we’ve touched any of the food we picked up at the grocery store yet, and this is our fifth day here!
But before I get too far into our time in Camden, I should start with the journey out of Seattle to Baltimore.
"The moment or hour of leave-taking is one of the pleasantest times in human
experience, for it has in it a warm sadness without loss. People who don't
ordinarily like you very well are overcome with affection at leave-taking... It
would be good to live in a perpetual state of leave-taking, never to go nor to
stay, but to remain suspended in that golden emotion of love and longing; to be
missed without being gone; to be loved without satiety. How beautiful one is and
how desirable; for in a few moments one will have ceased to exist."
- from the book "Sea of Cortez" by John Steinbeck and E. F. Ricketts
My last few days out west were full of that “warm sadness without loss.” I hugged goodbye most of the people that I meant to see before taking off, especially at the lovely shindig my family threw for me before going. Thanks to all the Bellingham people who make the drive to Everett to see me off! Love you!
I visited some good friends before going, too. When I walked away from a few homes that held the people I love, it felt like my heart was ripping through the muscles of my back. But even in those moments, I feel absolutely certain that this (Camden, and more broadly, JVC) is exactly where I am supposed to be.
I flew out of Seattle around midnight on Wednesday night/ Thursday morning. Since it was a red-eye flight and I was flying toward the sunrise, I basically skipped Wednesday night. So it felt like Wednesday and Thursday were all one, long day. At the airport in Baltimore, I managed to grab a latte and some breakfast before taking a cat nap by the baggage claim. Eventually I found my community hanging out near where the bus was supposed to pick us up, and after the standard confusion of moving sixty people to one location on a bus, we got on a charter bus and drove to Blue Ridge Summit in Pennsylvania.
Blue Ridge is simply gorgeous. It’s owned by the Jesuits in the area, and frequently is used for retreats like the one we were on. We had a lot of talks, small groups and presentations on the core JVC values: community, spirituality, simple living, and social justice. We had Mass three times: once to kick off the retreat, one for the feast of the Assumption, and one we call the missioning liturgy, when we are all blessed and sent forth to our cities. At that Mass we each received our Jerusalem cross, which is a traditional symbol of missionaries. It’s one large cross, representing Jerusalem, and four little ones around it, representing the four corners of the earth. In JVC, the four crosses stand for the four values.
We got to Camden without incident and found our little house, which is downright luxurious by JVC standards. Carpeting, two stories plus a basement, laundry machines, a dishwasher, 2.5 baths, 4 bedrooms. The dining room table is a big, beautiful, sturdy thing that just screams for people to sit around it and be a community every night. We are VERY well taken care of around here.
The only drag, and certainly what will become the cross that I bear in terms of staying connected with my family and friends, is that we have very limited access to the Internet. I do have a computer at work, but I can't use Facebook or anything like that there. This is all part of learning to live simply, which is one of the main reasons I became a JV; I wanted to purify my faith and life by rooting it in the Gospel, and part of that is giving up worldly goods. Having such a great house makes that a little more difficult, but we're at least going to try going without internet. I don't know if it will last; we plan to revisit the issue in about a month and make a decision as a community. Until then, my apologies if I'm slow to get back to you!
We visited each other's placements the last two days (after a lovely tour d'Camden led by Nick, an FJV, and my amazing cousin), and I have to say that I think we were all placed really well. I like my supervisor, Irma. She's a cool lady, and I look forward to working with her.
Also (I don't have photos of it yet, but believe me), I got a pleasent surprise: I get my own office!!! I am officially a grown up, with a job and an office! Granted, my computer there leaves something to be desired, but I'll take what I can get.
Last night marked our first trip to Philadelphia, so we hopped a PATCO subway to the big(ger) city. We had a great time with some Philly FJVs at a bar called Noche, and then headed back to the Philly JV house. It was a good time. Those of us who headed back last night got caught in a truly diluvian rainstorm last night. I actually took out my contact lenses and carried them in my hand because the rain kept washing them out! Some of my clothes (the ones that can't be dried in the drier) are STILL not dry yet! It was quite the adventure.
I'll write more later about our neighborhood and work-- I start at my job on Monday.
If you want to reach me, PLEASE email me instead of using Facebook (call me for the address; I don't want to put in on a public blog.). It will be easier for me to respond to you. Or you can send me snail mail (like my lovely friend Sara did-- I got a letter this morning!)-- call, text, or email for the address. :)
Take care, everyone!
Molly
Friday, May 23, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter!
The Vigil Mass was great, as was the whole of Triduum. We're all quite worn out, what with finals and three majors Masses under our belts, but giddy with joy that it all went well.
Now, take us to Mexico!
Now, take us to Mexico!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
We rise again from ashes
As tomorrow is the beginning of Lent, I’ve evaluated my life and the way I spend my time. I’ve come to the conclusion that, while I was once excellent at time management, I am not any longer. So, I intend to rectify that these coming weeks. Other than the requisite things (fasting and abstaining from “extras” like dessert and the like), I’m working on things that I do to manage my time better. I also have figured out my punishments for when I mess up (and I’m sure I will mess up). So, without further ado, here are my plans for Lenten mortification.
To Be Given Up
Internet: Other than academic use or necessary communication, I’m refraining from using the internet. I will check Facebook ONE TIME per day to keep up with communication and my email once in the morning and once at night. Everything else can wait until Sunday or Easter.
Television: All of it. Things on DVD, things on my iPod, and the ones at the gym. Movies theatres are out, too, but that’s not really a sacrifice (I don’t go that often).
Food- I'm following the general requirements for fasting: smaller meals, no snacking, no dessert, etc. I usually skip breakfast anyway, and lunch is my main meal during the day (lots to study=little time to cook=small, or at least prepared over the weekend, dinners). Nothing fancy, like giving up solid food or cutting whole meals.
Coffee- If I choose to drink coffee, I forgo the meal for that part of the day.
To Be Taken On
One hour before the Blessed Sacrament each day. Probably to be done in two half-hour installments. Or three twenty-minute installments. You get the idea.
Punishments
Should I spent any time on the internet doing something other than communicating or schoolwork or watching television, I will measure the amount of time I waste. I will add that amount of time to my daily hour of Adoration.
I don't report all of this as a 21st century "hair shirt" (people used to put on crappy clothes, often made of hair, so that the whole world would know they were fasting. This is discouraged in the Gospel). I do it because I hope that my friends will help hold me accountable if they know what I'm trying to do.
Wish me luck! Happy Lent!
To Be Given Up
Internet: Other than academic use or necessary communication, I’m refraining from using the internet. I will check Facebook ONE TIME per day to keep up with communication and my email once in the morning and once at night. Everything else can wait until Sunday or Easter.
Television: All of it. Things on DVD, things on my iPod, and the ones at the gym. Movies theatres are out, too, but that’s not really a sacrifice (I don’t go that often).
Food- I'm following the general requirements for fasting: smaller meals, no snacking, no dessert, etc. I usually skip breakfast anyway, and lunch is my main meal during the day (lots to study=little time to cook=small, or at least prepared over the weekend, dinners). Nothing fancy, like giving up solid food or cutting whole meals.
Coffee- If I choose to drink coffee, I forgo the meal for that part of the day.
To Be Taken On
One hour before the Blessed Sacrament each day. Probably to be done in two half-hour installments. Or three twenty-minute installments. You get the idea.
Punishments
Should I spent any time on the internet doing something other than communicating or schoolwork or watching television, I will measure the amount of time I waste. I will add that amount of time to my daily hour of Adoration.
I don't report all of this as a 21st century "hair shirt" (people used to put on crappy clothes, often made of hair, so that the whole world would know they were fasting. This is discouraged in the Gospel). I do it because I hope that my friends will help hold me accountable if they know what I'm trying to do.
Wish me luck! Happy Lent!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
When you say a Hail Mary...
Between my mom's fervent recital of the Memorare before I was ever born, and my present-day devotion to Our Lady, I really think she listens to every single prayer I say (See this blog from August).
Another case en pointe: on Monday it started to snow about an hour before we left for CAST. As our van is a piece of crap held together with bailing wire and a shoelace (and I use that term generously), I was really nervous about driving it in the snow. Especially on hills, especially on the one right by the Newman Center. There sits an intersection with no stop signs at the bottom on the hill, and there were two people in the backseat.
As we got to the end of the alley, I REALLY felt the need to pray, so Jon and Genny and I rattled off a few to Our Lady. By the time we hit the street at the end of the alley and the end of the second Hail Mary, we were sliding backward down Oak Street. Jon and Genny didn't seem too scared, but I didn't tell them that I was STANDING on the brakes while we were sliding backward.
We managed to stop on the hill while the traffic worked around us. We couldn't drive forward because the wheels kept spinning out.
But THEN I remembered a trick I learned on the road crew, which is to put on the emergency brake and drive on it (damn Mitch Hedburg for making me think twice about it!); that keeps the wheels from rolling backwards while you lunge forward. It's like the poor man's four-wheel drive.
So we made it back up, and then I called the lady who runs CAST. And it turned out that since the weather was so bad, they opened the cold weather shelters. And when the cold weather shelters are open, we don't serve on the street (if we're not giving out food outside, then people are much more likely to go inside for dinner, thus getting warm and probably being offered a bed).
So we were back in the alley and didn't have to drive anywhere. So we were safe.
I tell you, Our Lady's an attentive one. She hasn't forgotten me (or anyone else) yet.
Another case en pointe: on Monday it started to snow about an hour before we left for CAST. As our van is a piece of crap held together with bailing wire and a shoelace (and I use that term generously), I was really nervous about driving it in the snow. Especially on hills, especially on the one right by the Newman Center. There sits an intersection with no stop signs at the bottom on the hill, and there were two people in the backseat.
As we got to the end of the alley, I REALLY felt the need to pray, so Jon and Genny and I rattled off a few to Our Lady. By the time we hit the street at the end of the alley and the end of the second Hail Mary, we were sliding backward down Oak Street. Jon and Genny didn't seem too scared, but I didn't tell them that I was STANDING on the brakes while we were sliding backward.
We managed to stop on the hill while the traffic worked around us. We couldn't drive forward because the wheels kept spinning out.
But THEN I remembered a trick I learned on the road crew, which is to put on the emergency brake and drive on it (damn Mitch Hedburg for making me think twice about it!); that keeps the wheels from rolling backwards while you lunge forward. It's like the poor man's four-wheel drive.
So we made it back up, and then I called the lady who runs CAST. And it turned out that since the weather was so bad, they opened the cold weather shelters. And when the cold weather shelters are open, we don't serve on the street (if we're not giving out food outside, then people are much more likely to go inside for dinner, thus getting warm and probably being offered a bed).
So we were back in the alley and didn't have to drive anywhere. So we were safe.
I tell you, Our Lady's an attentive one. She hasn't forgotten me (or anyone else) yet.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Serendipity
Ever stop and wonder how you got where you are?
Not in a bad, wistful sort of way; not "oh, where have I gone wrong and what have I done to deserve this?" More like, "I don't deserve any of this. Who am I that I would have been so blessed, that I would have such good things that I don't deserve?"
If any of my life had been different: if I'd grown up in a different city, if I'd gone to a different high school or college, if I'd joined a different program, taken different classes, met different people, how it all would be different. Would I be as happy? Would I have the things in my life that I wish for? Would the beautiful people and things that give me happiness now be missing as a result?
It's weird to think about: if this person hadn't died, if things hadn't happened to my family, if I hadn't walked down this street on this particular day and met someone, if I'd lived somewhere else, etc.
And the answer is that of course things would be different. If I'd made different decisions when I came to college, and even in my daily life, I wouldn't know the people I know now- I wouldn't have these blessings in my life. Strange to think about, how narrowly I could have missed it all.
Some would say that it was all up to chance, that everyone chooses their own path and then walks it, but (obviously) I think it's something bigger. "I am the master of all hearts, My child, and I lead them gently where I please. I will place about you those who are necessary to you; never fear!"
Call it good luck, serendipity, or whatever you want. I think of where it all came from, and I am just overwhelmed and thankful. The path I've been given to walk is so different from the one I thought I would have. I could never have foreseen my life the way it is now, and until I got here I didn't really realize that this is where I'm really meant to be.
The Supreme Author of life needs no editor, but it's difficult sometimes to sit back and let Him write. But He already knows the story, knows where it will go and how it ends. It's a beautiful story, one that I'm happy to let Him write, as He clearly knows what He's doing better than I do.
What we have was placed about us and prescribed to us for a reason. A tiny change in circumstance could have altered the entire course of my life (who am I to say that that isn't what altered the course of my life?), but the fact remains that the life I've had is exactly the one I was supposed to have. Even if it's so good that I don't feel worthy.
Not in a bad, wistful sort of way; not "oh, where have I gone wrong and what have I done to deserve this?" More like, "I don't deserve any of this. Who am I that I would have been so blessed, that I would have such good things that I don't deserve?"
If any of my life had been different: if I'd grown up in a different city, if I'd gone to a different high school or college, if I'd joined a different program, taken different classes, met different people, how it all would be different. Would I be as happy? Would I have the things in my life that I wish for? Would the beautiful people and things that give me happiness now be missing as a result?
It's weird to think about: if this person hadn't died, if things hadn't happened to my family, if I hadn't walked down this street on this particular day and met someone, if I'd lived somewhere else, etc.
And the answer is that of course things would be different. If I'd made different decisions when I came to college, and even in my daily life, I wouldn't know the people I know now- I wouldn't have these blessings in my life. Strange to think about, how narrowly I could have missed it all.
Some would say that it was all up to chance, that everyone chooses their own path and then walks it, but (obviously) I think it's something bigger. "I am the master of all hearts, My child, and I lead them gently where I please. I will place about you those who are necessary to you; never fear!"
Call it good luck, serendipity, or whatever you want. I think of where it all came from, and I am just overwhelmed and thankful. The path I've been given to walk is so different from the one I thought I would have. I could never have foreseen my life the way it is now, and until I got here I didn't really realize that this is where I'm really meant to be.
The Supreme Author of life needs no editor, but it's difficult sometimes to sit back and let Him write. But He already knows the story, knows where it will go and how it ends. It's a beautiful story, one that I'm happy to let Him write, as He clearly knows what He's doing better than I do.
What we have was placed about us and prescribed to us for a reason. A tiny change in circumstance could have altered the entire course of my life (who am I to say that that isn't what altered the course of my life?), but the fact remains that the life I've had is exactly the one I was supposed to have. Even if it's so good that I don't feel worthy.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Fall Retreat 2007
Well, that rocked!
It's cool to be on the other end of retreats; working behind the scenes, giving talks, coming up with the ideas. The element of surprise isn't there, but it's great to grant that to those who are on the retreat. If I say so myself, we did a great job.
Huge props to Marc and Kelsey (or MmmKay, as they are known), our fearless peer ministers of retreats!
It's cool to be on the other end of retreats; working behind the scenes, giving talks, coming up with the ideas. The element of surprise isn't there, but it's great to grant that to those who are on the retreat. If I say so myself, we did a great job.
Huge props to Marc and Kelsey (or MmmKay, as they are known), our fearless peer ministers of retreats!
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wherever you live, you must be living in a holy city
"All over the world, human beings start out thinking that God must live in the mountaintops. Look at the clouds, thunder and lightning; of course that’s where God would live. For example, when Moses wants to talk to God, he climbs a mountain.
"But all over the world, there are stories where young brave or the young medicine woman climbs to the mountaintop to see God. He or she gets to the peak, looks out, and realizes that it was all sacred down there. They didn’t have to go to the mountaintop to see God. As Buddy Glass says, 'What do we ever do, but move from portion to portion of the Promised Land?'
"Our struggle is sacred; wherever you live, you must be living in a holy city." ~ Stephen Hatfield
"We come together to work, so that face to face/we can instruct our hands to build a house of grace,/for every one of us here is a dwelling place/and we’ll assemble and form a holy city./ Alleluia, Alleluia!" ~ Living in a Holy City, by Stephen Hatfield
I was listening to this song earlier today, thinking about Stephen's thoughts on the subject and hearing the beautiful chorus of the song repeat, "a holy city, Alleluia, Alleluia!"
I was struck by how much it reminded me of God in our midst every day. The Holy Spirit is present in this world, Christ is fully present in the Holy Eucharist. In the Eucharist, every one of us here is a dwelling place. How very lucky we are, how privileged, that God is present. That the ground we stand on is holy, because our Lord made it. No matter where we are, we stand together in a holy city.
"But all over the world, there are stories where young brave or the young medicine woman climbs to the mountaintop to see God. He or she gets to the peak, looks out, and realizes that it was all sacred down there. They didn’t have to go to the mountaintop to see God. As Buddy Glass says, 'What do we ever do, but move from portion to portion of the Promised Land?'
"Our struggle is sacred; wherever you live, you must be living in a holy city." ~ Stephen Hatfield
"We come together to work, so that face to face/we can instruct our hands to build a house of grace,/for every one of us here is a dwelling place/and we’ll assemble and form a holy city./ Alleluia, Alleluia!" ~ Living in a Holy City, by Stephen Hatfield
I was listening to this song earlier today, thinking about Stephen's thoughts on the subject and hearing the beautiful chorus of the song repeat, "a holy city, Alleluia, Alleluia!"
I was struck by how much it reminded me of God in our midst every day. The Holy Spirit is present in this world, Christ is fully present in the Holy Eucharist. In the Eucharist, every one of us here is a dwelling place. How very lucky we are, how privileged, that God is present. That the ground we stand on is holy, because our Lord made it. No matter where we are, we stand together in a holy city.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Thank God and Mother Mary for large and small miracles
Breaking down in the dark at 6am on the freeway is not fun! Ask me how I know!
Actually, it could have been much worse (note the title of this blog).
I left the house a little late today, being that it was noisy until 4am around the bedroom door. No matter. Up at five (ish) and out the door at 6 (ish).
Funny thing: when I walked out the door, a little voice in my head told me not to take the car that I usually take to work. I ignored it. That was unwise.
I drove the mile between my house and the freeway on ramp without incident. It wasn't until I accelerated onto the freeway that I realized anything was wrong.
As I pressed the clutch to the floor of the car, the gear shift would not move into fourth gear. I tried pushing it back into third, but it still would not engage the engine. When I lifted my foot up to try and double clutch, the pedal remained pressed to the floor. The pedal had stopped working. So I was stuck in neutral, coasting along, unable to give the engine any gas.
Mind you, I was merging onto I-5.
Thankfully, the exit that I would take to get onto Highway 2 to go to the shop is less than a mile from the on ramp. So I didn't even try to change lanes- I didn't need to. But as I approached Highway 2, I realized that if I didn't get off of the road in about ten seconds, I was going to be stuck on a ramp that merges with a major highway. Unable to move. This did not sound appealing.
I puttered to the right as quickly as I could (in other words, not very quickly), scooting between some orange construction barrels onto the shoulder of the road. Because it was dark, because it was raining, and because I was paying more attention to getting out of the path of oncoming cars than I was to where I was going, I didn't realize that it was a construction zone. Between my house and the shop, it was absolutely the best place to have a breakdown (see title of blog). None of the equipment or workers were there yet.
I stopped and called my bosses to tell them I'd be late. Then I called my parents (I was only about a mile from home. See title of blog). Then I couldn't think of what to do. So I started muttering Hail Marys. I got through about ten; I'd have said more, except an incident response worker pulled up behind me right then (see title of blog). Apparently they peruse the zones before the construction workers get there.
My mom arrived a few minutes later and took me to work (I was only ten minutes late. And it didn't matter, because my truck was getting new tires and my crew couldn't leave yet, anyway. See title of blog.). My father and brother got there soon after. They called AAA. The car is OK; we think the clutch cable failed, so the transmission is fine. We just need a new cable (see title of blog).
As I said, it all could have been much worse. See title of blog.
Actually, it could have been much worse (note the title of this blog).
I left the house a little late today, being that it was noisy until 4am around the bedroom door. No matter. Up at five (ish) and out the door at 6 (ish).
Funny thing: when I walked out the door, a little voice in my head told me not to take the car that I usually take to work. I ignored it. That was unwise.
I drove the mile between my house and the freeway on ramp without incident. It wasn't until I accelerated onto the freeway that I realized anything was wrong.
As I pressed the clutch to the floor of the car, the gear shift would not move into fourth gear. I tried pushing it back into third, but it still would not engage the engine. When I lifted my foot up to try and double clutch, the pedal remained pressed to the floor. The pedal had stopped working. So I was stuck in neutral, coasting along, unable to give the engine any gas.
Mind you, I was merging onto I-5.
Thankfully, the exit that I would take to get onto Highway 2 to go to the shop is less than a mile from the on ramp. So I didn't even try to change lanes- I didn't need to. But as I approached Highway 2, I realized that if I didn't get off of the road in about ten seconds, I was going to be stuck on a ramp that merges with a major highway. Unable to move. This did not sound appealing.
I puttered to the right as quickly as I could (in other words, not very quickly), scooting between some orange construction barrels onto the shoulder of the road. Because it was dark, because it was raining, and because I was paying more attention to getting out of the path of oncoming cars than I was to where I was going, I didn't realize that it was a construction zone. Between my house and the shop, it was absolutely the best place to have a breakdown (see title of blog). None of the equipment or workers were there yet.
I stopped and called my bosses to tell them I'd be late. Then I called my parents (I was only about a mile from home. See title of blog). Then I couldn't think of what to do. So I started muttering Hail Marys. I got through about ten; I'd have said more, except an incident response worker pulled up behind me right then (see title of blog). Apparently they peruse the zones before the construction workers get there.
My mom arrived a few minutes later and took me to work (I was only ten minutes late. And it didn't matter, because my truck was getting new tires and my crew couldn't leave yet, anyway. See title of blog.). My father and brother got there soon after. They called AAA. The car is OK; we think the clutch cable failed, so the transmission is fine. We just need a new cable (see title of blog).
As I said, it all could have been much worse. See title of blog.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Post-workout sweat
I'm doing the thing where you sit still between your workout and your shower because you have to finish sweating.
Seriously. I've made the mistake of hopping in the shower directly afterwards, and then even though I'm clean I sweat all over my clean clothes. So I'm learning from my experiences. And I'm blogging.
Thought for the day: "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." ~C.S. Lewis
Think about it.
Seriously. I've made the mistake of hopping in the shower directly afterwards, and then even though I'm clean I sweat all over my clean clothes. So I'm learning from my experiences. And I'm blogging.
Thought for the day: "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." ~C.S. Lewis
Think about it.
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