Irish Blessings

It is ironic, but perhaps fitting that after my last blog I would find myself waitlisted for nearly every program in which I applied. I could tell you more about that. About letter after letter that said things like, “You are a strong applicant, but we haven’t found a placement for you.” About sitting on the bench overlooking the lake crying to my mom on the phone, wondering out loud, “Does anyone believe I will be a good educator?” I could tell you about restless nights crying, wondering where and what God was calling me to do. I could write an honest and painful blog about the heartbreaking frustration of discerning my future.

But writing that blog would shortchange the opportunity to tell you how joyful I am to discover  exactly what God is calling me to do. How jubilant I am to be moving to Ireland next year to teach religion and help with music ministry at a parish in Wexford in a Notre Dame program called House of Brigid. So instead of writing about my heartbreak, I am going to write about how and why I feel so overwhelmingly called to say yes to this next chapter in my life

I remember the night I first began thinking about applying for the House of Brigid program. I had been interning in Dublin over the summer. I was standing in the apartments that were typically used for House of Brigid and I started thinking about it. Teaching catechism and singing in choir were two of my favorite things to do. And I obviously loved being in Ireland. All of a sudden I could see myself here. “What if I applied to House of Brigid?” I thought out loud to a friend standing beside me. “That’d be perfect for you! You should do it,”  she replied.

Looking back there were even more whispers that the House of Brigid was something I was called to do. During Fall semester, I found myself becoming a stress-monster. Every bit of schoolwork overwhelmed me. While I was applying to mostly graduate teaching programs and I couldn’t wait to start teaching, a lot of me worried whether I had the stamina for the demands of graduate work. In the meantime, I couldn’t stop thinking about going back to Europe. My semester and summer abroad had been the best time of my life and I just wanted to slip back into it. I hated trying not to be “that study abroad returnee,” when I felt so transformed, so enthusiastic about the experiences I had while in Europe. I can see now that these thoughts were prayers. They were me asking God to help me find a place where I could find peace from stress, from my restlessness to travel. And it was the beginning of God shaping the perfect solution for me.

I remember sitting outside the interview room for House of Brigid, praying once more. “This program is all about ministry, so I hope you lead people to it who are truly supposed to be there. I’m not sure if this is for me, but if it is, I’m open to it,” I prayed. And then, a half hour later, I left my interview without the same dazzling confidence I felt in the others. I pushed the program from my mind, deciding that I hadn’t done well enough. I wouldn’t get it. So then, weeks later, when I got an e-mail telling me  I was an alternate for the program, I pushed the thought even farther away- contenting myself to enter graduate school and teach.

But God works in mysterious and profound ways. During Spring Break I found out that a spot had opened up for me in the program. I had four days to make a decision. You’d think it would be easy. After all, it was everything I wanted: a chance to return to Europe, an opportunity to share my faith, more experience teaching, and a chance to find peace from my stressful academic schedule. But that weekend I was travelling to Baltimore for another interview for a graduate teaching program. I was struggling to be open to both positions. My heart was calling me to Ireland. But my head was begging me to be practical and start teaching, get a master’s degree right away.

“Give me a sign,” I asked God before Mass while in Baltimore, nearly crying from the stress of discerning. Moments later, I opened my hymnal to a page at random. Irish Blessing it read.

“Okay, God,” I thought, “that’s actually pretty good. But give me more.”  I then began to receive calls and e-mails from people involved with House of Brigid, all with more and more information that helped me see myself there, helped me see that I could be a valuable addition to the program.

I was nearly ready to give in, but a tiny bit of my head clung to the practical. After all, doing a graduate teaching program after graduating had been my plan for so long. I wondered if maybe I should ignore my heart, ignore this strong call and do what was practical. Then I didn’t get the job in Baltimore and I knew more than ever that I was being called to say yes to House of Brigid. I could reapply to teaching programs in a year, but I could follow this call right now.

So I said yes. Since that moment I have only found myself getting more and more excited to go to Ireland, more joyful to have figured out where God was calling me. This isn’t the path I planned for myself, but it is the path God has planned for me. And I cannot wait to see where this path leads.

Waiting

By the time I write my next blog, I will have the answer to the question that has been haunting me since I first put down my deposit at Notre Dame: what comes next? But for now, I am waiting. I am so, so sick of waiting. Sometimes I feel like I have been waiting forever, carrying this burden of not knowing for so long that I might burst. It often feels like my life is a never-ending routine of waiting.

I remember being thirteen and going downtown to audition for the Nutcracker. I remember sitting in the green room crying. I remember thinking, “Maybe they’ve made a mistake.” I was certain they would run into the green room or call my mom’s cell phone and say, “Yes, her, we made a mistake but we really want her.” There was no call. I wasn’t wanted.

Two years later, I sat in my mom’s car, heartbroken once again for not making the advanced dance chorus in the school’s musical. She convinced me to go back in and ask if there had been a mistake. The director sat down with me and we talked about it. He too was concerned that there had been a mistake and told me he’d contact the choreographer. For two days I waited until he gave me that call that I wanted. There had been a mistake. My waiting had been worth it.

Years flashed by and I was a senior in high school waitlisted at Notre Dame. Months were spent in limbo, not knowing where I was going to college, not knowing if my dreams were going to come true. I spent my time hoping and praying for a chance at my dream college. When my acceptance finally arrived, I had nothing but joy at the new adventure awaiting me.

Then, another two years later, I was on another waiting list, waiting to hear once again if I was good enough to study abroad in Paris. I was frustrated and heartbroken that I felt like I was constantly forced to prove myself, prove to the world that I cared enough about my dreams to make them happen. Couldn’t I possibly be enough? And of course, eventually someone believed I must be and took me off the list.

I am exhausted from the emotional weight of not knowing my future. I am anxious about the possibilities that await- the heartbreak of rejection, the profound joy of acceptance, but mostly the stomach churning uncertainty of another waitlist. Because that is the truth- I am absolutely terrified of being waitlisted again. I am terrified of being a constant second choice, of never being good enough. It is this thought that keeps me up late at night. Haven’t I been waiting long enough?

If I’ve learned anything in college, and in particular through these experiences, it is to learn to accept uncertainty. There is only so much we can do to control our future. It’s easy to make goals and chase dreams, but they all take place on God’s timeline, written in God’s pen. But knowing and believing it is one thing, living it is another. Despite all the thinking I’ve done on the subject, I still resent this period of waiting, dreading the e-mails that will decide my fate. “Sometimes I feel like I am doing all this waiting just to be rejected,” I admitted to my mom on the phone recently. I am still struggling with how to reconcile my strong desire to dream big with the heartache of being rejected. Because I don’t know if I am ready (will I ever be?) to go through the pain of rejection, but I am miserable waiting for it.

One thing I know for sure is that I don’t have all the answers. (The rest has been lost due to the blog deleting itself and me being terrible at saving things)

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.

A Childlike Faith

This week my life will be consumed by everything education. Between applying for programs, starting up a club at a local school for my senior thesis, and taking the PRAXIS exam to become a teacher, everything is somehow related to teaching. One consuming part of this process is writing personal statements about how I am a faith-filled mentor and a skilled classroom leader. I have spent a lot of time thinking about how I am going to help my future classes connect with their faith. In fact, I already spend a lot of time working on my lesson plans for the religious education classes I teach so that students can develop a deeper understanding of their faith and a richer relationship with God. I keep challenging myself to give more and more to my students to help them grow. But sometimes I forget that I can learn from them too.

One particular student, Tim*, has been in my catechism class for two years now. He is known for saying a lot of off-topic comments (though to his credit they are usually related to religion in some way), while always looking for ways to be a leader in my classroom. He isn’t always on task, but he will constantly ask,“Megan, am I being mature today?” He usually is. A few weeks ago Tim said something to me that stopped my heart.

He told me, “Sometimes I hear God talk to me.”

[KM1] 

He continued , “God tells me to do good things for others. Like one time I saw someone who needed help and I just went and did it.”

The conversation jogged my memory to when I was little. Though I can’t say I ever heard God exactly talk to me, I do remember making up conversations in my head about what God would say to me; a childhood way of articulating that God-like tug in my gut. I remember asking my mom about it, saying, “How do you know it’s God talking?” She replied, “If it comes from a place of love, then it is what God is calling you to do.” I imagine that is similar to how Tim was feeling too.

When we are children, our world is limitless. The concept of God is easy to understand because there are no restraints to what we believe or dream. We can all grow up to be ballerinas and pop stars and princesses and teachers at the same time. We don’t bat an eye at the idea that a magical bunny delivers gifts to us on Easter. Our world is surrounded by stories of fairytales and talking animals. In this world, believing in God is just part of the ordinary wonder that is childhood.

As we get older we realize God is different from Santa and our imaginary friends. We are given the privilege of being able to understand theology and the complex academic tradition behind what we believe. While we might not be a ballerina-popstar-princess-teacher, we do realize we are called to serve others with the gifts God gave us. We can enter into deep discussions with friends. We can understand mass in a more sophisticated way (because lets face it, 3 year old me danced around the church singing about Teddy Grahams). It is amazing how much we gain in our faith lives as grow up.

But in many ways we can lose track of that simple, childlike wonder for God. I love teaching lessons and watching my students grow in their knowledge about the faith. We can learn so much from them. Here they are, despite being at the beginning of their faith journeys, willing to pray to God, trust God with their problems, and understand the pure ways in which God loves us all. I think back to the ways I saw miracles in cupcakes (link), didn’t doubt the power of the rosary (link), and encountered valuable faith lessons in the books I read (link). My understanding was simple, but my faith was strong. There is something genuinely inspiring about the simplicity of a child’s faith and I hope to look for that wonder in my own life.

I can’t wait to enter into teaching. I’m so excited to share with my students my favorite books and my love for writing. I look forward to sharing my faith with my students. But I also look forward to the ways I can learn from them. I am delighted for the chance to look through their eyes and revel in God’s wonder, to listen through their ears and to hear God’s voice.

*Name changed for privacy

Mountain Top Yoga and Uniqueness

Pictures of mountain-tops, camping sites, yoga poses, and delicate cappuccinos are some of the images I find on many “Christian” and “Catholic” instagrams, tumblrs, and blogs. Don’t get me wrong, I love doing yoga and I have had some awesome insights while climbing mountains (see On Top of the World). But at the same time, there is something unattainable about these pictures. They have an essence of cool and collected I am positive I will never be able to achieve. While these blogs are beautiful, I realize I don’t necessarily see my own faith in camping trips and coffee runs. The fact is, faith looks different on all of us.

I am a Catholic and, as it goes with being a student at Notre Dame, so are many of my friends. Yet for each of my friends, being Catholic means something completely different. For some of my friends, it means rosaries and daily mass. For others, it’s Christian worship music and faith sharing in small groups. For others, it might be hours pouring over theological texts and reveling in the scholarship behind what we believe. For me, being Catholic is serving others by teaching catechism and being part of a community service choir. For me, it’s deep “God talks” with my mom. It’s the thrill of receiving the Eucharist. It’s giving total trust in God’s plan for the future. And that is only the beginning.

The word “Catholic” means universal and while so many aspects of our faith are the same around the world, there are also differences in faith that come from culture and ethnicity. Here at Notre Dame, it is easy to see this from our various groups and masses. Voices of Faith and the Rejoice! Mass bring a refreshing energy and a welcoming community. Cora Primavera and Ballet Folklorico, akin to the Hispanic tradition, come alive with vibrant music, language, and spirit. Masses on our campus range from orthodox services to Root Beer Float Mass. Each of these liturgies is rich in its own way. While we each might gravitate to masses that fit for us better, they all work to bring us closer to God.

Our own faith lives work in much the same way. God made each of us unique and gave us all a purpose. So, it makes sense that we don’t all have faith lives that look the same. It makes sense that Catholicism looks difference on all of us. It is healthy to stretch ourselves to try new things in relation to our faith. It is also healthy to realize what works best for us and to keep working to get the most we can out of those aspects as well.

There  are a lot of peoplewho prefer to make Catholicism into a series of check boxes. It is easy to say “If you do this, If you believe this, If you follow this- then you are Catholic.” But that isn’t realistic. We all have experiences that make us unique. We all have parts of the faith in which  we might struggle and teachings we connect with more. We have questions and doubts,which are natural and normal to have. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t valuable members of the church. In fact, our unique-ness makes the church richer for it.

I recently read an article lamenting “Cafeteria Catholics” who don’t believe every single teaching of the church and instead “pick and choose” from the giant dining hall of Catholic teachings. This view is dangerous, judgmental, and hurtful. It fails to see the uniqueness that each person brings to the faith. It fails to see the wonderful imperfections we all have. It fails to understand that we have a God who is always welcoming us and reveling in the wonder we have become. And in the end, our relationship is always between us and God.

The Year of Mercy is about throwing the doors wide open and yelling loudly from the rooftops “All are welcome.” It is about realizing there is no oneway to live out our faith or one type of person who is Catholic. It is about reaching out to make members of the church feel more included. It is about showing that God-like love to everyone who is part of the church. In fact, the only way we truly fail to be Catholics is when we fail to love. God is always, always calling us to be the most loving humans we can be. That should be our only priority when it comes to the members of our church. 

One of the most important things I’ve learned about myself through my faith life at Notre Dame is that you need to live out your faith life in a way that is authentic to who you are and what you believe. Learning to be comfortable with the way Catholicism looks on me, imperfections and all, is one most important journeys I’ve undertaken in my faith. So go out and discover what that means for you- event if  it means praying on mountaintop doing yoga in a corn field. Whatever it is, setting your heart aflame with heavenly love is the best place to start.

Breaking the Bubble: On Traveling Alone

“You went to Germany by yourself for a week? Why would you do that?”

“You must have been so brave to travel by yourself.”

These are some responses I receive when I tell people what I did last year for spring break. It’s weird because looking back, I don’t feel like my choice to travel alone was particularly radical or brave, but I do think it was one of the most important things I did while I was abroad.

There were many amazing things about studying abroad in Paris, but one of the best parts was  getting two weeks off for spring break. My mom was going to be there for part of it, so I was already planning to visit Barcelona. I had also made plans to meet my friend in Greece. But in between these two trips, I had a whole week free to travel. The rest of my friends in Paris were going to places I had already been in Europe and I was itching to go somewhere new. There was no way I was going to spend that week sitting in my room. So, I decided to grab a train ticket for Munich, rent an apartment  for the week, and sign up for some day trips while I was there.

I’m a pretty independent person. I’d traveled to Edinburgh by myself, so this wasn’t my first foray, just my longest. I have a good sense of direction and basic common sense, so I wasn’t afraid of anything going wrong. But I did have one small hesitation. I’m an extrovert. I like talking, being around people. So I was worried that travelling alone would be really lonely. I couldn’t imagine going a week without talking to other people. I prayed about this before I left, asking God to keep me safe, happy, and never alone.

I was blessed in my travels in that loneliness never came to fruition. My trip began with a six-hour train ride. About half way through the train journey, we realized everyone in my compartment spoke English- an Italian woman, a Chinese girl, and another American. Once we started talking, we couldn’t stop and spent hours chatting on our way to Munich. Even better, the American guy lived near the apartment I rented and was able to give me a crash course in the Munich public transportation system. I felt relief that night when I got to my apartment (which was actually the coolest apartment in the world) that my trip had already been less lonely than I had expected.

This continued for the rest of the week. The next morning, on a walking tour of the city, I met a group of girls who were studying abroad in London and invited me to tag along with them to the Spring Festival in Munich. The next day, on a day trip to the Neuschwanstien Castle, I made friends with two American girls studying abroad in Paris. It’s always amazing to make new friends especially when it means you have someone to take pictures of you with a fairy tale castle. Later that week, when visiting Saltzburg, Austria, I made friends with an Australian guy and a girl from New York. We spent the rainy afternoon recreating scenes from the Sound of Music and adventuring in a fortress at the top of a mountain.

Each day of my trip, I encountered new people, new stories, and new worlds. Each person shared with me stories of their travels, their hometowns, and their unique perspective of the world. In turn, I realized how when travelling on your own the social barriers that exist in our own lives stop existing. So often in America, when I meet new people, I am constantly sizing myself up and assessing them. When travelling though, I felt like I met others with my eyes wide open. I had no context in which to judge them, so I was free to listen and share with them without jadedness. I began to feel as if I was part of something bigger than myself, a community of people linked together through nothing more than humanity.

I also love how travelling alone let me be independent. I could stay up late watching Netflix or go to bed super early if I was exhausted. I could eat ice cream for dinner if I wanted (and I did). I didn’t to worry about upsetting anyone else’s plans. It was during this trip that I started writing a story that eventually became a novel of over 100,000 words. This trip let me be myself as much as possible.

Notre Dame is a wonderful place and I love every minute being here. But our campus is a bubble. We see the same people and the same places. While study abroad is a chance to escape the bubble, many people spend their time abroad traveling only with the same Notre Dame students. I don’t want to make those experiences sound invaluable. I took many trips with ND students and I treasure the way those trips helped me grow closer to my friends and create new memories with them. But study abroad is also an opportunity to exchange cultures, to take risks, to get to know yourself better, to get to know your world, which can only really happen when you let the bubble burst.

Many of my junior friends, including my friend and fellow blogger Katie Arndorfer, have embarked on the beginning of their semesters abroad. Studying abroad is one of the most life changing opportunities I’ve had Notre Dame. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always rewarding. But the true rewards came when I challenged myself to strike out on my own path and travel on my own. This is the same challenge I am posing to my friends who are starting their study abroad adventures. See where your travels take you and whose paths you might cross. When you take the risk, trust God, and travel on your own.   

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