Coming home from far

This weekend I got home late both nights, walking alone through the quiet night. I am starting to agree with my friend Catia who says there is a certain “spirituality of the night”. My legs were tired but my heart was really, really full. It’s that old, familiar “coming home from the youth group” feeling. Also that feeling of accompishment of doing scary things... well for me, do you count making parish announcements as scary?

“Men com tamely home at night only from the next field or street where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows morning and evening reach farther than their daily steps. We should come from far, from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day, with new experiences and character.”

(from Walden, by Henry David Thoreau, chapter “Baker Farm”)

Pictures: stained glass at my parish, my daily train trip, a sweet engagement card from my friends in the US I’ve been showing to everyone…

St. Therese of Lisieux quotes

St. Therese as a child

Reading St. Therese of Lisieux's The Story of a Soul was a page-turner and exceeded expecations for me, just like Mother Teresa's book. Actually, the two Teresas have a lot in common, as I was surprised to find out when I read this book. Common themes of being missionaries, of spiritual darkness, of satiating Jesus's thirst for love on the cross, of redemptive suffering, etc.


The most incredible thing for me after reading this book was how such a simple person and small life could be such a great and far-reaching saint. It really is true that small things are made great by God and all of the best things are hidden. The epilogue concludes, "Her heroic virtue was exercised in such ordinary ways that it was not easily recognizable. One Sister was heard to remark: 'She is very good, but she has certainly never done anything worth speaking about.'" 

Here are a few of my favorite quotes:

• My thoughts used to become very deep then, and though I had no idea of what meditation was, my soul was really lost in prayer. I listened to the sounds that came from far away and the murmur of the wind. Sometimes snatches of martial music were carried from the town, making me feel rather sad; earth seemed to me a place of exile, and I dreamed of Heaven. (p. 18)
• I must admit that, when I read certain tales of chivalry, I did not always grasp the realitites of life; in my enthusiasm I wanted to do all the patriotic things the heroines of France had done, especially Joan of Arc. It was at this time that I was given what I have always considered one of my life's greatest graces, for God did not enlighten me then in the way He does now. He taught me that the only glory which matters is the glory which lasts forever and that one does not have to perform shining deeds to win that, but to hide one's acts of virtue from others, and even from oneself, so that "the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing." (Cf. Matt. 6:3) (p. 40) 

  

  St. Therese dressed up as Joan of Arc

• I should have been a thousand times happier under a thatched roof with a hope of entering Carmel than I was in the midst of gilded apartments, marble staircases and silk hangings, while my heart was in anguish. I learned from experience that joy does not reside in the things about us, but in the very depths of the soul, that one can have it in the gloom of a dungeon as well as in the palace of a king. (p. 80)
• I know from experience that "the Kingdom of God is within us" (Luke 17:21), that Jesus has no need of books or doctors to instruct our soul; He, the Doctor of Doctors, teaches us without the sound of words. (p. 109)
• Prayer, for me is simply a raising of the heart, a simple glance towards Heaven, an expression of love and gratitude in the midst of trial, as well as in times of joy; in a word, it is something noble and supernatural expanding my soul and uniting it to God. (p. 141)
• It is therefore unnecessary, my Jesus, to say "draw those I love in drawing me." It is quite enough to say simple, "Draw me." For once a sould has been captivated by the odor of Your ointments, she cannot run alone; by the very fact of being drawn to You herself, she draws all the souls she loves after her. Just as a mighty river carries with it all it meets into the ocean's depths, so, my Jesus, a soul which plunges into the boundless ocean of Your love bears all her treasures with her. (p. 150) ... This is just what I ask. I want Jesus so to draw me into the flames of His love, so to make me one with Himself that He may live and act in me. I feel that the more the fire of love inflames my heart, the more I shall say, "Draw me," and the more swiftly those who are around about me will run "in the sweet odor of the Beloved." (p. 153) 

Let go, let God

This week was one of those "get home and try just to do the basics but be really tired and do half of what I wanted to do" weeks. Today was the culmination of tiredness at work, having lost one contact halfway through the day and had a crying kid throw a temper tantrum (in class) that lasted about an hour. A part I read in St. Therese of Lisieux's Story of a Soul has really stuck with me this week: 

"The fact that, left to myself, I could do nothing, made my task seem all the more simple; there was only one thing for me to do, unite myself more and more to God, knowing that He  would give all the rest in addition. This was no vain hope; no matter how often I have to feed the souls of my Sisters, my hand is always full. I assure you that had I acted in any other way, had I relied upon my own resources, I should have had to lay down my arms at once. At first sight, it appears easy to do good to souls, to make them love God more, and mold them according to one's own ideas, but in practice one finds that one can no more do good to souls without God's help than make the sun shine in the night. One realizes that one must completely forget one's own ideas and tastes, and guide souls along the particular path indicated for them by Jesus, not along one's own..." (in chapter "The Way of Love")

And so I have to remind myself there is only one thing to do (unite myself more and more to God). I remind myself of this when I try to "mold" my religious education students, when I worry about my youth group, when I try to "fix" Daniel or my family members. Here's to LETTING GO! 

Holding the hidden life dear

"It is not His earthly house He wants to give us. He shows us that only to make poverty and the hidden life dear to us. It is His palace of glory that He is keeping for us, and we shall see Him then, not in the guise of a child or under the form of bread, but as He is, radiant in His infinite beauty." 

-St. Therese of Lisieux in The Story of a Soul, ch. 6

...I think I am finally starting to see how far from loving poverty and the "hidden life" I am. Not everyone has to see that I'm using my God-given talents in order to be using them. And I certainly don't have to be getting worldly recognition (or money) for them. 

My youth group on Saturday...

The true object of all human life is play

I am happy the weather has gotten cold and rainy. I've come to realize recently that winter/Christmas is my favorite season. I love feeling cozy, bundled up in a scarf or even under an umbrella. I even like running in the rain. Today everything was a little wet and it was nice to come home to chocolate chip cookies and a milky drink after dinner. 

The only thing that's missing at the end of the day/in my house is... people. Someone to share those cookies with or someone to enjoy the rain with. Hopefully, one day soon that will happen. My longer work schedule has made it more difficult to invite people over.  

"It might reasonably be maintained that the true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground. To be at last in such secure innocence that one can juggle with the universe and the stars, to be so good that one can treat everything as a joke — that may be, perhaps, the real end and final holiday of human souls." - G. K. Chesterton