Christ in the Marathon

Friday began really, really well.

I didn't feel rushed getting ready for work, and it was a casual dress day, so I was super comfy in my jeans and tennis shoes. I ran into my mentor teacher on the way inside and bounced an idea off her that I'd had for a while, but hadn't acted upon. She loved the idea and said she'd talk to some others to see if it could work. I sat down at my computer, immediately found the links I needed for a lesson, and downloaded their content without a problem. Even my classroom iPod synced in record time.

I saw my new bulletin board display out of the corner of my eye. (Check it out here.) "Today is off to a great start -- clearly, this is all from Christ!" I put on some tunes from Steve Angrisano and got pumped up to start what I call my "marathon day" -- a full day with 9 classes (only 2 are repeats of earlier lessons) that include age levels from K-8. (If you're a teacher, you know how difficult it can be to switch gears for different age groups throughout the day!)

By the end of the day, I was exhausted, mentally and physically. (Actually, I was ready for a break after 4th period. By the end of the day, I was completely wiped out.) I first thought about how far I felt from my early morning excitement to begin the day... and then I saw Christ again, in the marathon of my day. Even simply looking at the layout of my day, without even considering the details, I can see Him.

This is training.

I often tell people that I am NOT a runner. "I would love to love to run. But I don't... I hate to run." I often decide to go for a run (ok, it's actually a really slow jog) and then end up giving up and walking. It doesn't matter how much I pump myself up for the run, I am rarely able to finish my planned route, no matter how short it may seem.

And so, to show me that I CAN DO IT (Philippians 4:13, anyone?), Christ gave me a "marathon" every week. And guess what? I DO IT. Yes, it's hard. Yes, I'm exhausted afterwards. I go home on Friday evening and crash. But I do it.

And guess what? I actually went for a run yesterday. (Ok, slow jog.) But I didn't stop the second I got tired. I tried to, multiple times. But my jogging buddy boyfriend wouldn't let me walk until I'd pushed myself to my limit. Did I glare at him? Yes. Did I complain? Yes. But you know what? I ran longer than I thought possible, longer than I have in probably a decade, and I survived. And I will probably do it again, because I know it's good for me.

"Christ never said it would be easy, only that it would be worth it." I don't know who said that, but it's true... and I'm blessed to have people in my life who don't give me the option of quitting when things get tough. Whether it's my principal having faith that I can still be a decent teacher at the end of a marathon day of teaching, or my boyfriend having confidence in my ability to take longer strides when I run, I know it's actually Christ pushing me to dig a little deeper, to give a little more.

He gave it all... what makes me think I can stop early?


I'm training for this marathon, and I'm finding beauty in its difficulty.

Where have you seen Christ today?

I work in a Catholic school. I attend Mass multiple times each week. I'm part of a Catholic lay movement. Most of my friends are Catholic. (I think I've been to 3 non-Catholic weddings - EVER.) Last year, I did a 24-week Catholic Bible Study led by a well-known Catholic apologist.

I have all the tools I could possibly need. And yet, sometimes I realize I've only been going through the motions, despite all of the witnesses around me. (I call this "Southern Kingdom Syndrome" -- see, I really did learn a lot from the Bible Study!)

I know Christ is present in every moment of my day, in every trial and circumstance, in every joy and celebration. But more often than not, I don't see Him in the moment. Usually, I realize it later on - maybe that evening when I'm going to bed and reflecting on the day, or the next week when I realize what a gift that moment truly was. But I want to see HIM, here and now, in the moment. I want to have that awareness, that faith lived out.

So I did what any teacher would do: I made a bulletin board in my classroom. (Well, all my actual boards were full, so I put it on the wall.)

I took this picture with my phone. It's not a smartphone. Don't judge, you get the idea.

Sure, it might not be the best quality of display... it is, in fact, aluminum foil wrapped around cardstock and sent through the laminator. But it's the reminder I need to look for Him. Because I know He's there, and I miss Him because I'm not paying attention.
 
So, I've decided to re-start this blog and give it a slightly new direction: quick, (hopefully) frequent posts about where I've seen Him today. Feel free to post comments about where YOU have seen Him in your life today, too!

Because HE is the true Beauty along the road -- wherever we are!

Uncomfortable Grace

In the past week, I have been faced with quite a few uncomfortable situations. I have found that they tend to provoke one of two feelings within me: (a) uncomfortable recognition of my own failures, or (b) refreshing motivation and the "kick in the pants" I need to get me back on the right track.

 

Today, for the second week in a row, the homily at our school Mass has been full of a call to conversion. And not in the generic sense -- Father has been asking very pointed questions designed to pull us all out of our comfort zones and really look at our lives from a penitential perspective, without excuses. It has caused me to re-examine several areas of my own life; it has also made me think about the times I help others to make excuses instead of challenging them - and when I allow others to help me make excuses, too.

 

I have also been faced with the need to recognize my own inadequacies, not just in the theological sense and my need for Christ, but very concretely, in my own day-to-day life and personal habits. For example, my last-minute nature, which always results in a hectic scramble and unnecessary stress... or my tendency to over-commit to good and beneficial things, which tends to leave others hanging... or the fact that it is easy for me to idealize a situation and then get in over my head when reality strikes.

 

My good intentions don't always have good results -- and it is very uncomfortable to "'fess up" to the fact that I am unable to follow through on even the best intentions. However, I have had the pleasure of watching some of my students handle uncomfortable situations with such grace that it immediately humbles me.

 

First, a student came up to me and very respectfully pointed out that I had chosen the same cantors for Mass for a few weeks while others had not been given the chance for a few months. My students know there are many variables that I consider when selecting cantors, but she had the courage to politely stand up for her peers. Although it's uncomfortable to stand up to authority, she didn't take the easy way out when she saw an injustice to another.

 

Even more powerful, I had the privelage of witnessing a conversation between another student and another authority figure. We were discussing Lenten reconciliation services, and the student turned and asked, "So how is your soul?" At first, I was taken aback -- but then I realized the incredible beauty of the friendship unfolding before my eyes. He was not trying to pry, probably not really expecting an answer. He wasn't trying to condemn, but to offer a pointed question aimed at self-reflection, just like Father intended with his homilies.

 

This conversation has stuck with me over the past few days, and it has brought a renewed seriousness to the relationships in my life. If the purpose of friendship is to help one another deepen our relationships with Christ and to one day enter into heaven, shouldn't we all have the courage to ask this question? Sure, it might be uncomfortable, but as Pope Benedict XVI said, "...you are not meant for comfort. You are meant for greatness!"

 

May we all have the grace to face uncomfortable situations with honesty and humility instead of taking the easy way out.

Imitators of Christ

Tonight at Mass, I was particularly struck by two lines in the second reading. St. Paul is telling the Church in Philipi to join him in imitating Christ, even when it means going against the popular decisions of others. I was particularly struck by Philipians 3:17-18

Join with others in being imitators of me, brothers and sisters, and observe those who thus conduct themselves according to the model you have in us. For many, as I have often told you and now tell you even in tears, conduct themselves as enemies of the cross of Christ.

(You can read the rest of the passage here.)

First, this popped out at me because my school's Lenten theme this year is "Imitators of Christ," which daily causes me to think about the ways I am doing this in my life -- and also the many times I fail to do so.

But even more so, I was struck by St. Paul's intensity in his emotion about the fact that some live as enemies of Christ -- or as enemies of the cross of Christ. St. Paul understood that apart from the cross, Christ loses His full identity. I'm not saying that Christ was nothing before the crucifixion, because clearly that is not true! However, I think it is often very easy to "imitate Christ" when things are good. It's easy to spend a Sunday serving lunch at the nursing home. It's easy to send a card to someone who has suffered a loss. It's easy to pick up the books of the kid who dropped them in the hall.

It is much more difficult to embrace the cross of Christ.

It's difficult to realize that I can no longer do this task [whatever it may be] on my own.

It's difficult to look someone in the eyes and recognize their need for companionship, especially when the situation makes me uncomfortable.

It's difficult to be the victim of a bully, especially when I know I've done nothing wrong -- or when I've done the right thing that is very unpopular.

See, it's easy (or easier, at least) to follow Christ without the cross. But that's not what we are called to do. Christ embraced the cross, and in order to imitate Him, we must do the same. St. Paul was so adamant about this fact that he was literally in tears while writing this letter, simply because some were not following properly. Now that is dedication. That is leadership. That is knowing What you follow is TRUE. That kind of intensity can't be washed away, and it can't be faked.

That is the intensity of an Encounter with Beauty and a true, intense desire to share it with everyone.


...and it forces me to ask the question, do I live with that intensity? Do I really invest my heart and soul in what I'm doing and how I'm living, like St. Paul? Am I that broken up about the choices made by another person?


If the answer is yes, where is the proof?
And if the answer is no, what is holding me back? 



Philipians 3:17-18   ...a beautiful challenge of discipleship!

Evidence of the Non-Circumstantial

As my last post said, I recently returned from working a TEC weekend. Like many others, I left the weekend full of the joy of my encounter with Christ, confident in His plans for me, and on fire with the Holy Spirit, ready to tackle whatever would come my way.

In the past, this feeling has lasted for a while, but eventually, the "God high" fades as the troublesome circumstances of my everyday life take over.

This time, those circumstances appeared a little early.

Beautiful Road

The road is beautiful for the person who walks
the road is beautiful for the person who goes 
and beautiful is the road which brings you home 
where they await you.

This is the translation of one of my favorite Italian songs, "La Strada." My CL friends and I sing it often, and it is a beautiful reminder for me of the need to keep moving, to never become stagnant or complacent. It is also a reminder of the community I have been given, a reminder that I never walk alone. Christ has given me wonderful friends who accompany me on this journey. Because that's what life is -- a journey!

The image of life as a road to be traveled has been on my mind a lot lately. This weekend, I worked on a TEC retreat, and the image was used several times by different people in various ways. My favorite, though, was the perfect, much-needed reminder from a friend near the end of the weekend:

"I don't know where all these roads are headed... but God does, and He's using them to prepare me for the road ahead."

When I heard those words, I immediately knew them to be true -- because it has been my own experience as well! Three years ago, there is NO WAY I would have imagined myself where I am now. And to be honest, when I turned onto this fork in the road, I did so quite begrudgingly. But looking back, I see God's fingerprints all over the path, and there is no place I would rather be. I know He has brought me here for a reason, even if I'm not yet sure what all the reasons will be.

I was very grateful for the reminder, though, because lately I have been getting a little frustrated. I don't have any idea where this road is leading. I can't see it yet, but I sense a fork in the road before long, and I'm not exactly sure where to go. Regardless, thought, I can be confident in God's ability to redirect my path and use each step to prepare me for something ahead.

And that, my friends, is a beautiful road!


È bella la strada per chi camina...