Thank You

The other week I was coming home after a long day at work. I hung my keys and dropped my jacket and glanced at the kitchen island. There was some mail with my name on it. Using a trusty sword-shaped letter opener I made one swift motion to free the letter from its envelope and voilà, a note and check. My eyes read the short note and then widened as I read the numbers on the check, I read it again, I wasn’t mistaken, I had just received a very generous donation for my student debt relief. One thought entered my head, “I must write a thank you note!”

I hurried upstairs, cleared a space on my desk, grabbed my box of mailing supplies and got to work. Later on I was still walking on clouds while sealing the letter. I couldn’t wait to put it in the mail! I wished there was some other way I could thank this family for their generosity. Then it hit me, I just wrote a thank you note willingly, speedily, happily, unselfishly. I thought back to all those moments slumped over at the family dining room table with mom scolding, “you need to write your thank you notes.” I hated writing thank you notes. What had changed?

Recently, I’ve been writing many more thank you notes than ever before. Every donation I’ve received has prompted me to write each family member or friend. I don’t do it under the threat of my mother I do it joyfully and willingly. I think I am beginning to understand why. Writing a thank you note when I was younger didn’t have much meaning because I did not know the value of a gift. In my spoiled state of mind I felt like I merited the gifts and so when I received them there was an absence of gratitude.

Now that I am fundraising to retire my education debt I am aware of how unworthy I am of all that I am given. I am unworthy of such a beautiful vocation and unworthy of the generous support I receive daily. The gifts that are being showered upon me are the kinds of gifts I can’t earn by merit, instead, they are given by God, the giver of all gifts. I cannot exactly sit down and write a thank you letter to God but I pray that the gift of my life will serve as a way to give thanks for all He has bestowed upon me.

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant." Luke 1:46-48

Where are the yams?

This Thanksgiving I had the opportunity to help organize the Christ House food pantry. I hunkered down in the basement amid the surplus of donated items while upstairs a group was cooking Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless. My friends and I were absorbed in the task of sorting, stocking and shelving when suddenly a group of young boys scurried down the stairs asking in excited voices, “Where are the yams! Do you have any yams?”

Apparently the cooks needed cans of yams to complete the Thanksgiving meal and sent three little heralds to come looking for them. While cute in appearance, the panicked hovering presence of the young boys did not help us to find canned yams any faster. After a more than thirty-minute search for yams I glanced at my friend across the spilled bags of canned goods and pasta and sighed, “We’ll find the yams, when we stop looking for the yams.”

~~~

Today was the first Monday back at work and I think it was a hard Monday to face. Even those who love their jobs find it difficult going back to work after a much-anticipated vacation. Therein lies the difficulty of this time of year, waiting.

In a sense we wait for Thanksgiving and Christmas as a means to break from our work. We wait to see family and friends and we wait for the chance to break our routines and relax.

In a deeper sense this time of year is when we celebrate advent, a season dedicated to the purpose of waiting. It is a waiting that prepares us to celebrate Christ’s birth while simultaneously inviting us to remember Christ’s promise to come again in glory.

Ironically, I find that the more I think about waiting the more I become impatient. I am curious and eager for the passing of time with a type of anxiousness that goes beyond simply waiting for the holidays. This tendency to focus on the future, while natural, can be a trap. When I am not careful I become obsessed with things out of my control.

With that in mind I’d like to approach this advent by keeping my thoughts and actions on the day to day tasks of serving God and others so that if I get caught up in anything it will be with the present instead of the future.

What does all this have to do with yams? I’m not sure. But I can say that when we stopped looking for the yams, we found them!

Green Jello

Don’t laugh, we all have our favorite dish when the holidays roll around. For some it’s the gravy others prefer the yams, the possibilities are endless. For your information, I cling to the tradition of Grandma Patterson’s Green Jello. My joy doesn’t start and stop with the jello since I am grateful for all that the Thanksgiving holiday has to offer: time with friends and family, much needed time off work, and delicious turkey sandwiches made from the leftovers!

It’s interesting to note that we celebrate this type of Thanksgiving once a year but today I am reminded that I get to participate in Thanksgiving everyday. The type of thanksgiving I am now talking about is the Eucharist.

By receiving Christ in the Eucharist, I recall Christ’s sacrifice of His own body and blood given for all. This gift of His life is a reminder to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1Thess 5:18) and to “continue steadfastly in prayer being watchful in it with thanksgiving.” (Col 4:2)

I’d like to take a moment and share with you some people and things that I am particularly thankful for.

I give thanks to God for:

• The joy of knowing the Lord
• My vocation
• My family
• My friends
• My students
• My school community and their enthusiasm for Truth
• The All Saints Community and their generous support
• All those who helped with “Cookies for Karen”
• Generous donations from family, friends and strangers

….

• And yes, for Grandma Patterson’s Green Jello

Power Steering Fluid

I drive a 1997 Ford Contour. It runs on unleaded gas and perpetual prayer. My little car has been leaking a lot of fluid recently so I went to my favorite Virginia repair shop, Eddie’s, to get an estimate. Twenty minutes later a woman handed me a piece of paper and I read the following:

• Parts: $261.00
• Labor: $770.00
• Shop/Enviro: $54.04
• Tax: $15.78
• Total: $1101.28

The woman and I both agreed that my Ford didn’t merit those repairs since its resale value is somewhere between $500-$800. The solution: buy lots of power steering fluid, keep it full, and continue to pray.

I have power steering fluid on the brain as I was praying this afternoon a strange connection began to form between the power steering fluid bill and my thoughts on the spiritual life. The two words that sparked this parallel were “Parts & Labor.”

According to my bill if I only needed to pay for parts then repairing my car would have been no-brainer. The lesson: parts are manageable but labor costs the most.

As I anticipate entering religious life in August I am reminded that it takes little effort to change my name and trade in my jeans and t-shirts for a white habit, but it will take a lifetime of labor to change who I am to become more like Christ. The spiritual life is about dying to self and in turn really living for Christ. A task easier said than done.

Unlike my Ford, thankfully, I believe that the human person is deserving of all the labor one can put in. My hope: to labor diligently in this life so I may be able to live and love more perfectly in the next.

A Sacrament for All Ages

Confession, in my opinion, has never been the easiest of the sacraments because I find it challenges me to grow spiritually more than any other sacrament. While all sacraments have an outpouring of grace I find that grace is more tangible in confession. I don’t just mean the confessing of sins but the preparation for and the thanksgiving after.

One time I asked a priest if it was bad to go to confession only because I was scared of the consequences of not confessing. I’ll never forget the advice from that priest, he said, “It is okay to go out of fear, but pray that you might go out of love.” He then went on to explain how Christ is present in the sacrament and how I should pray to be motivated by love and not fear. This type of transition is one that may take a lifetime for me to grasp and potentially accomplish. Considering that it might take a lifetime can be overwhelming but recently I witnessed something beautiful that will serve as motivation in the future.

As I was praying before confession last weekend I was distracted by the noise of the confessional door opening. I looked to my left and saw a very humble looking old women shuffle out of the confessional clutching her cane. Inspired by her witness I prayed “Lord, help me to remain faithful in my old age.” I then continued to prepare for confession but was distracted a second time by the noise of the confessional opening, this time on the right. My eyes took a moment to see the penitent because instead of another adult I witnessed a young boy leaving the confessional, possibly no more than eight years old. Looking left and right I saw the old woman and the young boy silently kneel in prayer and was overwhelmed by a renewed respect and awe of this sacrament so powerful that it brought two strangers, a 98 year old looking woman and an 8 year old looking boy, together in the same place at the same time to kneel in prayer after having confessed their sins.

I know that I have a lot to learn about the spiritual life and about all the sacraments but for now I can firmly say that I believe that the sacrament of confession is a gift of love; a gift that I don’t always understand but one that I know I am called to participate in for all ages.

For all the Saints...

who from their labors rest!

I'd like to be a Saint someday but for now I too need some rest. I propose we take a moment to give thanks for the Saints and to ask for their prayers and then take a moment to rest with the Saints in the joy of knowing the Lord.

May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen +

How about a pint?

Last Friday at an Irish party I indulged in soda bread and a delicious shepherd’s pie. Sadly, I had to pass up the pint of Guinness because I was getting ready to donate blood Saturday morning. As a first time donor I didn’t know if I could consume alcohol before hand so better safe than sorry.

Technically, I’m not a first time donor because when I was 18 I did try and give blood at the high school blood drive. I remember the multiple pokes, horrible bruising and the lady who said, “Sorry your veins are too small and I couldn’t get enough blood. You can go back to class.” Needless to say I did not volunteer after that. That is, until a few weeks ago. The parish was advertising a blood drive and I felt I should try again. I got my aunt to go with me as my “wingman” and we both went to give blood on Saturday.

I was nervous, but it was a beautiful opportunity to offer up potential unpleasantness for the sake of others. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the image of Christ on the cross, shedding his blood for forgiveness of sins while He himself remained sinless. All in all it was a very good experience. The woman in charge of me was very skilled and friendly. She explained the whole process and before I knew it I was lying on my back and the blood was flowing quiet nicely into my bag. When you donate they say that by donating you may save between 3 and 5 people’s lives. I don’t know how they work out the math but the whole point is that by giving what I have, I help others.

I’m thankful for having been given the opportunity to live my faith through the simple act of donating blood. I realize not everyone can donate blood but the message stays the same. From time to time I ask, what do I have that I can give away? Are my gifts being used for others? I know I’m not responsible for fulfilling the needs of the world, but while I am alive I desire to do what I can with the time I have for love of God. In this case, all that was needed was 45 minutes and a bag large enough to hold a pint.