Ode to Galentines

Last semester from Thanksgiving to Christmas break, I marathoned through  Parks and Recreation. Obviously I had studying and extracurriculars and social obligations, but I somehow managed to watch all 7 seasons. The show is like watching sunshine. It’s full of beautiful friendships that aren’t always perfect, but are somehow as supportive and loving as possible. From Ann and Leslie’s best friendship, to Tom and Donna’s[KM1]  Treat Yo Self days, to each nuanced and splendidly real friendship each character found with another, I was obsessed with the way the show promoted and celebrated friendship.

With one final semester at Notre Dame, my friends and I have decided to embrace our inner Leslie Knopes. From hosting parties solely dedicated to validating each other, to learning how to Salsa downtown, to trying out new restaurants in South Bend, we’re making the most of these last few months. My own Leslie Knope zeal has come out in the form of weekly yoga and meditation classes I lead on Fridays. This past Friday, I decided to kick it true Parks and Rec style and insist we go out to Galentines Day brunch after my class. It was wonderful to be surrounded by my close friends, sharing and rejoicing in our friendships. My weekend only got better when my mom, sister, and one of my best friends from home and her mom came to visit on Sunday. We had a celebration of friendship with yet another brunch. (I swear Uptown Kitchen made a ton of money off me this weekend).

I continue to revel in the amazing way friendship and the communities we build alongside them work. At Notre Dame, we all are immensely talented academically and usually artistically or athletically as well. These talents are important and are going to be the tools we use to make the world a better place. But our smaller gifts, the subtle ones that sometimes go un-noticed are the ones that build our small groups of friends into communities where we flourish. I see it so clearly in my own friends. I have a few friends who are gifted in listening, and my late night chats with them are nothing but therapeutic. I have a few others who are gifted in planning events or hosting parties, giving us occasion after occasion to see each other. I have a friend who teaches us different Latin dances so we don’t make a fool of ourselves at Salsa night. I have another friend who reaches out and finds service opportunities for us to be part of. I am constantly filled with gratitude to be so privileged to have so many delightful friends in my life.

Each friend of mine makes my life and our community richer. God gives us huge talents we can use to change the world, but also smaller, equally important talents we can use to transform the lives of those around us. Each member of my group of friends contributes to making our lives more joyful than they would be without them there.

Valentine’s Day weekend makes it easy to focus on what one does and doesn’t have. The internet is full of people lamenting on not having a date, or squealing over the romantic relationships that set them apart. But this weekend I was so happy and surprised to see my Instagram covered in pictures of Galentine’s Day brunches. Instead of dwelling on what we did or didn’t have in our love lives, we celebrated the friendships that hold us together through it all. The friendships that God has called us to and strengthened with our unique gifts and talents. The friendships that leave me brimming with happiness at the smiling faces that make my life better. I think this weekend we would have made Leslie Knope proud.

Written With Love

I’ve been writing since I was very little. I’d come home from kindergarten and play my favorite game, bookshop. I’d write book after book and use the stairs in my house to show them off as if they were on display in a bookstore. My childhood love of books only grew and grew. I wrote plays in elementary school and forced my friends to be the stars. I wrote novels as a middle schooler and posted them online for people to read. I once, rather embarrassingly, self published a piece of writing in 8^th grade (and I promise you none of my friends will ever let me live in down). In high school, I wrote a play and then produced and directed and choreographed it as part of our school’s One-Act festival. I participated in National Novel Writing Month. I took creative writing classes. I’ve kept journals. I started writing blogs. I’ve always had an insatiable desire to write.

This last year or so, my desire to write has become more intense than ever. The combination of travelling abroad and working at a creative writing center turned me into more of a writing addict than I’ve ever been before. I wrote a 237 page  novel. And then 70 pages of another. And then 40 pages of another. I hope this doesn’t sound as if I bragging (I can’t promise any of the writing is good), but to simply express how strangely obsessed I am with the craft itself.

But why? What do I love about it? I love writing as a medium to express myself. It is an ideal way to work through ideas. On this blog, I’ve written about many difficult and personal things. The experience of writing these pieces has been cathartic and therapeutic for me. I’m constantly grateful for the opportunity. My even more personal thoughts are shared only in my journal where I can put down on paper the thoughts and worries that keep me up late at night.

As for fiction, I think my motive behind it differs. It’s all about control. When I write, I get to create worlds. I get to make characters and dictate their lives. Their triumphs, their catastrophes, their relationships- all of it is at my fingertips. With a few taps on my keyboard, I can assure their dreams come true. In my capable hands, my characters always get a happy ending.

In my life, I don’t always feel the same way. With all of next year’s applications for turned in, everything in my life is up in the air. I don’t know where I’ll be living. I don’t know who I’ll be living with. I’m not sure what grade or subject I’ll be teaching. I don’t know what my life will look like and that drives me crazy. I crave control. I want to be able to type it all out: Get into my top program, live in a city that excites, with roommates who inspire, teach a classroom of kids who flourish with me as their teacher. I want to write myself my own happy ending.

But I don’t have that control, none of us do. In reality, I’m applying for a lot of competitive programs and competing against a lot of qualified applicants. In reality, it is all out of my hands. It’s in God’s.

As I’ve sent in each application, I’ve reminded myself that there is a classroom out there that is perfect for me. It might be in Indiana or France or Hawaii or Ireland, or maybe in a place that isn’t even on my radar yet, but somewhere out there a classroom of students who I don’t know yet, are just waiting for me to be their teacher. God has handpicked this class just for me. God has picked out my roommates, my grade, my subject. God is the writer of my story and God has done all the planning.

The one thing that makes me different from the characters I write is that I have a way of communicating with my author. Whereas my characters can’t complain when I throw a trial at them, or thank me when I let them succeed, I have a personal relationship with a God who cares for me. I have prayer. It is through prayer I can tell God the dreams written on my heart while also accepting that God may be leading me in a different direction. It is in prayer where I give gratitude for each chapter already written, where I ask for strength for the character development segments that may come my way, and for unfailing trust that God’s pen will craft me my perfect happy ending.