Blog Origin Story

I should have expected it, but senior year is off to a stressful start. Between classes, my senior thesis, jobs, clubs, and rehearsals, I’ve began to feel overwhelmed. Perhaps the worst part of it all is that looming above the everyday stress of college life is the pressure to land a job at the end of the year. Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly worrying about the future- wondering where I’ll live next year, concerned over my penchant for waitlists, and already feeling the burden of student debt. It’s hard to enjoy these sacred last few months on campus with the fear of the future lurking over me.

This weekend my family visited, and I found myself crying to my mom about the pressure I’ve been feeling. She reminded me that sometimes when things feel like too much, when we hit roadblocks, when one door seems like it closing, it is often God’s hand directing us to where we really need to be. Of course, I rolled my eyes and groaned. Sure, Mom. But then later, when my family left, I thought back to my freshman year at Notre Dame when I saw this very thing happen.

Affording Notre Dame has always be a tense topic in my house. My Notre Dame financial aid package arrived the night before I needed to decide if I wanted to accept the spot that was offered to me. I had forever dreamed of going to school at Notre Dame and there was no way I was going to say no to my dream school. One of the conditions my parents set was that to go to Notre Dame, I was going to have to take on a student job.

In typical planning-obsessed me fashion, I started my job hunt the summer before my first semester. I found an online application to be an usher at DPAC and decided that was the perfect job for me. I had spent all of high school participating in as many performing arts as I could cram into my schedule. No job sounded better than being constantly surrounded by the arts. I was totally invested in the job. I filled out the application and scheduled my interview when I arrived on campus. The first week of school, I came to my interview well dressed, gushing enthusiastic answers about how much I loved the arts and how excited I was for the job. “I’m a shoe-in,” I told myself.

Then I didn’t get the job.

It was fine. I could totally carry on. I applied for administrative positions in various offices. I applied to work in a few different cafes on campus. I applied for boring office jobs that mainly involved spreadsheets. And nothing. I was getting discouraged. I had promised my parents I would get a job and nothing seemed to be turning up. I was so worried. Without the extra money, I was worried that I might have to take on more loans on top of the ones I already had.

But then in the beautiful way God works, the perfect opportunity turned up. CUSE was looking for student bloggers to take part in “The Hub,” a blog that discussed academic life at Notre Dame. I loved writing, especially looking at ways to share writing online. It seemed like a perfect way to direct the amount of time I already spent blogging. Something about this clicked for me. I got very serious about my application. With help from my RA, I put together my first resume. I learned how to write a cover letter and choose a writing sample. I even came up with a list of ideas I had for the blog. I was nervous, but excited for my interview.

And I got the job. I dove right into writing articles such as an inside scoop about the French play I was in and an Academic Guide to Valentine’s Dates. I even got to meet a major art curator (who is also my favorite author’s wife) and interview her for the blog. Even more importantly, I made some amazing connections with CUSE, which has helped to become part of its honors society, Sorin Scholars, and receive research grants to travel to France and New York City.

Unfortunately, the blog closed the Spring Semester of my freshman year. It wasn’t long after this, I was sitting in Waddicks, between class and doing homework with a friend, I found the posting for the Campus Ministry blogger position. I got this excited tingle. How perfect was it for this beautiful, ideal job opening to come about just after the last blog finished? A chance to not just write blogs, but to make a meaningful contribution in peoples’ lives. A chance to write about my faith, to talk about things that matter deeply to me, and share personally of myself to others. Over the next few weeks, several people recommended I think about applying, a further sign to me that this was something I had to try for.

So after another round of resume making, cover letter writing, and interviews, I ended up with the amazing job I have now. Of course, back in September of my freshman year, I didn’t know this was where God was leading me, but boy, is this such a great place to be. We can’t know when we are stuck in the troughs of disappointment frustration that the closed doors are part of God’s plan. It is only when we look back that we see the flawless artistry in God’s plan for each of us.

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” This verse sums up everything I grapple with. As this year progresses, as the stress builds, I need to remind myself of the moments like this: when God creates stories for us that are even greater than anything we could ever dream up for ourselves. 

Pope Fever Takes America

A few weeks back, during our weekly Wednesday afternoon meeting, Father Pete dropped by to ask, “Why are young people so excited about Pope Francis?” He explained he was going to be interviewed by NBC News and wanted to know, especially in the light of the Pope’s visit to the States, why young people were so emphatic about his visit.

And it’s true. In recent weeks, America has gone “Pope Crazy.” This weekend across the nation, including several bus loads of students from Notre Dame, thousands will flock to Philadelphia to celebrate mass with the Pope. On Thursday, Campus Ministry will host “Papal Pancakes,” where students can eat pancakes and watch the Pope Address the joint meeting of Congress. On Friday, in McGlinn, we’ll have our own “Pope Watch” of his address to the UN. It’s obvious that our campus is full of anticipation for the arrival of Pope Francis, but the excitement isn’t limited to just us under the Golden Dome. The entire nation has been counting down to this visit.

So why are we so excited about his visit? Why are we, as young people, so excited about Pope Francis? I’m not the first person to tackle this question. In fact, journalists have been discussing this in depth for the past few weeks. There are endless facts and studies that cite the demographics of a changing church with complex and varied opinions on the social, political, and inequality issues that effect our church. They also cite the way the patchwork of the body of the church has changed with more Catholics who have or are close to people who have experienced divorce, same-sex marriage, or out-of-wedlock pregnancy. As students who may have watched our families or our friends  deal with these issues growing up, younger Catholics are shifting our interest from the social issues to those of inequality in America.

In many ways, the Pope has helped guide this transformation. Since he came into his Papacy, he has directed people to look at issues of poverty, the environment, and immigration. Many people I know like to argue that Pope Francis isn’t saying anything different or radical from what the church teaches or what previous popes have said. But to me, there is a difference in the way the Pope  is using his role in the spotlight to help direct our focus to issues like poverty, where we ourselves, even as young people, can help. From washing the feet of prisoners to kissing the face of the disfigured, the Pope has challenged Catholics to live their faith out through service, compassion, and works of mercy. In a time and place where we as students are overwhelmed with our futures, discerning our own opinions on social issues, and trying to find a place for our faith in our lives, Pope Francis helps direct our attention to how we can make a difference, to challenge and inspire us to follow a call of service.

Personally, I know that before Pope Francis, I had been very wary of the Vatican. I saw it as a distant institution preoccupied with telling people what was right and wrong, writing policies, and often times hurting those I cared about with its opinions and rules. To me the idea of a pope and the Vatican had nothing to do with my personal relationship with Jesus. Pope Francis has helped heal that rift for me. In his Evangelli gaudium, he writes about the importance of a personal encounter with God, which speaks a lot to me and my own experience. While I still have some reservations about the institutional side of the church, the compassion and thoughtfulness that Pope Francis exudes has made a difference to me and many other Catholics.

In fact, last Spring Break, I had the opportunity to visit Rome on a pilgrimage with Campus Ministry. Abet the rain and cold of the early morning, I was able to celebrate Easter Sunday mass with Pope Francis. There was something so breathtaking about hearing him address the congregation of thousands about a call for peace in the world. Later, he drove around in his Pope-Mobile and greeted the crowd. He has worked hard to make himself accessible. The entire experience spoke so much to who he is his as a pope- a leader, a peacemaker, but also a humble man.

This Saturday I will be praying for my fellow classmates who will be journeying to Philadelphia to see this inspiring man. I hope that through him they are able to understand the call that God has for all of us- to be people of service, compassion, and humility- just like the Pope.

I Hate Christian Music

Okay. Confession time. For someone who has been writing a spiritual blog for over two years now, I have to admit that I actually can’t stand Contemporary Christian music. That probably sounds weird. I’m in a liturgical choir, so I obviously spend a long time singing about faith through music and I love the way that liturgical music serves a ministry, a way to share my passions with others. However, to me, that is so different from  the music I listen to when I need a quiet moment of prayer, reflection, or mediation.

Over the summer, mostly due to my new subscription to Spotify Premium, I got a little obsessed with making playlists. As I poured through new music, I continuously found myself discovering songs that weren’t “Christian,” but still spoke so strongly to the wonder, acceptance, and unconditional love that is part of being a person of faith. God is love, so when we sing of love, we are always in a way, singing about the one who is beyond understanding, yet abounding in love. I worked to put together a playlist of songs that inspire and challenge me, that really crystalize that pure love. Some of these songs have a message that is more obviously spiritual, but others inspire me in a single line or idea. Most of my music taste tends to be the acoustic, coffee house-esque genre. Here goes:

Playlist:

Glory Days by Roo Panes- This song to me is a perfect song for discussing travel, pilgrimage, and our own journeys. God is always leading us to the places we are meant to be, though it might mean us leaving behind what makes us comfortable.

Unpack Your Heart by Philip Philips- This song is all about coming as you are, which is perfect because God is always calling us to be simply ourselves, accepting us for both our strengths and weaknesses, our talents and our flaws.

Bonfire Heart by James Blunt- “People like us, we don’t need that much, just someone to start, start the spark in our bonfire hearts.” We all have this capacity to love that is enormous, we just need God’s love to start it on fire.

Simple Song by The Shins- The last line of this song is beautiful: “Love is such a delicate thing that we do with nothing to prove.” This lyric always reminds me of the way we are called to love selflessly and without agenda.

Indigo Home by Roo Panes- I quoted this song in my blog last week because the message of this song is so beautiful and simple: “If you give love, and live love, you’ll always have a home.” Nothing sums up our call as people of faith like this.

Sanctuary by Paradise Fears- I heard this song for the first time last year while on Appalachia[KM1] . To me it really seemed to symbolize what it means to be part of the body of the church, a “united mass of harmony,” that is there to help each other through each difficult moment and is made of pure acceptance.

Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch- This song has a more obvious connection to faith. “My salvation lies in your love,” is the chorus of the song, which seems to be a perfect fit for Christ’s love for us. This song is also so peaceful, so it is a prime choice for meditation.

Only Love by Mumford and Sons- “Only love will win in the end,” is the main line of this song. It talks about how in moments of loneliness and friendlessness, love always wins out. Isn’t that what God’s love is about? Delivering us from painful moments and into peace.

Different Child by Roo Panes- This song is a perfect closing song. In fact, when I’m a teacher I want to play this on the last day of school. It is a song about transformation, just like how we are always called to be transformed by God’s healing love.

I love these songs because they inspire and challenge me to be a better person of faith. I love that they are ordinary songs, but they become extraordinary by looking at them through a new lens. There is something so exciting about finding God in unexpected places- such as in the regular music you listen to every day.

But the truth is, each of us have music that helps us to pray deepest. For some, like my friend Katie, contemporary Christian music is what helps spark her faith life. Others pray best to wordless music, while even some need silence to really hear God’s voice. Finding music that helps you pray is personal to everyone, so take time to experiment and find what works best for you.

Have any favorite prayer songs? Regardless of style and genre, share them in the comments below.

Happy to be Home

“If you give love, and live love, then you’ll always have a home,” – Roo Panes, Indigo Home

“I don’t want to go back to America,” was becoming my mantra my last week in Dublin. It was always met by a constant, “America isn’t that bad, Megan.” I had spent the last seven months in Europe and my life there was amazing. Ever since I was a child, I had dreamed about living in Europe. After years of imagining, I was finally living the life of my dreams. And I loved every minute of it.

Life abroad was a constant adventure. I had spent five months studying at the University of Paris Diderot in Paris, followed by two months interning at Fighting Words Creative Writing Centre in Dublin. Every minute of it was exciting. There were weekend trips hiking in castle doted forests in France and cliff sides of Irish fishing villages. There were afternoons spent writing in tiny cafes while discovering the best cappuccinos. There were weekends for travelling to new countries, and others for brunch with friends and picnics in the park. There were museums to discover, plays to see, and nights out full of smiling friends and life-long memories. I was getting compliments from people about how I seemed happier and more alive than I’d ever been before. I was finally living the life I had always dreamed of and I was overjoyed.

Leaving meant saying goodbye to easy certainty of my life abroad. The first semester of my junior year had been a tough one. It was marked with profound loneliness and anxiety. The only thing that seemed to get me through the semester was hope that the life I had dreamed for myself was awaiting me in Europe. Even my time abroad had been scattered with disappointments, but it was easy to ignore my worries when I was surrounded by beauty and adventure. I wondered if it would last in a place where the very things I lost would be in my face all the time. I had challenged myself to be present and felt like I had really risen to the occasion, treasuring each and every moment I was able to have in Europe. Coming home meant entering into a scary unknown.

Whether I wanted to or not, I got on a plane on July 18^th and headed to Detroit. I had five weeks before school started- a much needed rest to catch up with my family, see my friends from home, and start work on my thesis. At church, I prayed that this semester would be good, better than last fall- with less loneliness, more happiness. I kept myself distracted working on a novel, going to the beach, and visiting friends nearby. Basically trying as hard as I could to not think about going back to school. But Notre Dame, just like Europe, had once been a life I had dreamed about. Why was I dreading going back?

But then something started to happen. I started to get messages from friends about how excited they were for senior year and to see me again. I moved back in with quite confidence. My first week back was filled with happy reunions with the friends I made in Paris and Dublin- dinners, game nights, nights out- reliving our memories and talking about our hopes for this new school year. I began to realize that maybe, just maybe, this year was going to be different.

I think it hit me most at the opening mass of the semester. During the Prayers of the Faithful, intentions were read in several languages by students from various countries. I was really pleased when I looked up to see two of my friends reading intentions. The Irish intention was read by one of my roommates from Dublin and the French intention was read by one of my close friends whom I studied with in Paris. It was at this moment that I had one of those beautiful “God” moments where it hit me all at once: The life-changing experiences and the comradery I felt abroad exists with me right here, every day

Senior Year is different than I thought it was going to be. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t special. In the end, it’s a year that is going to mean a bunch of different things. It means figuring out a future career and preparing to graduate. But for now, it means heart to hearts while walking around the lake. It’s running down the dunes in the pouring rain. It’s late nights on the town with my very best friends. It’s not mountain-tops in Santorini, but each new memory is reminder- that it is just as important to be present now as it was in Europe. That each last precious moment is valuable, and I’m going to spend my time, not dwelling on opportunities that could have happened, or fretting over inevitable futures, but to focus on these amazing, life-giving people that are making me happy to be home.

On Top of the World

I’ve been planning out my senior year since before I was a freshman at Notre Dame. I was going to be an RA. I was going to do a senior year internship for ACE. I was going to be president of my choir. If you know me, or even if you’re just a regular follower of this blog, you’ll know that I am a planner. I love to plan - trips, dream schools, unwritten novels- but especially, I love to plan my future. And senior year was going to be the culmination of my planning. It was going to be the time when all my years of work were finally going to pay off. My freshman and sophomore years, I looked up to my RAs, the interns I knew at ACE, and the presidents of my choir. I wanted to be them. I wanted to be someone who people looked up to.

The fall of my junior year came around with deep anticipation. I wrote application essays. I nitpicked my resume. I spent two hours one evening recording a campaign speech for my choir presidency. I spent afternoons with my notebook, writing out notes about each opportunity. I nervously sat through interviews. And I prayed. I prayed so much, probably more than I had in a very long time. I wanted this to be the perfect senior year. I wanted to be a role model. And I wanted God to want it for me, too. When the final submit button was pressed and the last Hail Mary said, I began to wait.

Two months ago, at 6AM, using Megabus Wifi in Edinburgh, on a trip I was taking all by myself, I opened the e-mail from my AR. With that dreaded lurch, the feeling like your stomach is dropping out from beneath you, I learned that I would not be an RA my senior year. I wasn’t terribly surprised, my dorm had over 30 girls applying for 7 spots, but as much as I tried not to be, I was disappointed. So, as I drowsily staggered off the bus and into the rainy streets of Edinburgh, I decided the best thing to do would be to climb a mountain. It wasn’t a terribly huge hill, but I still felt successful when I made my way to the very top. It was early and deserted and I expected  to cry, but instead, I was in awe. From the mountain top, I watched the sunrise over the harbor of Edinburgh, and all of a sudden, my rejection seemed smaller. Who was I to feel sad over this little thing, when I was on top of a mountain? I was in a city I had never seen before, all by myself (in the freezing rain) and I felt far away from the world I used to know. My problems seemed miniscule. I took deep breaths and told myself that when I came down from the mountain, I wasn’t allowed to be upset anymore. I had one day in Edinburgh and I was going to make the most of it. I came back down and had perspective.

A month later came my second disappointing e-mail. I found out that despite my campaign efforts, I would be choir secretary instead of president. This news came somewhere in between traveling to Amsterdam, Rome, and Barcelona while I was trying to balance schoolwork and 10 hour days of shooting a student film. In the rush of travel and filming, I found that I simply didn’t have time to be sad. I had to treasure each of these moments and not let the bad news bring me down. After all, I told myself, the ACE internship is the one I wanted the most, and that was still out there. Who knew what still could happen? I resigned to keep hoping for that.

This past Friday, I received my e-mail from ACE. The third “no.” And to be honest, a lot of me wanted to fall apart. I quietly left my hotel room in Greece,  went on to the terrace, and promptly called my mom and cried to her.

When you get rejected, it doesn’t feel like one rejection, but everything you’ve ever been rejected from all at once. Not getting this internship felt like not getting the RA position. It felt like opening the waitlisted letter for Notre Dame. It felt like my first real heartbreak. It felt like not getting the role I wanted in my high school’s play. It felt like not getting the summer jobs that I wanted. It felt like the e-mail saying that I had been waitlisted for the Paris Study Abroad program. It was fell like all of it, all at once. It felt like being broken.[KM1] 

“There is something wrong with me, Mom,” I whispered, “I am never picked first. I am always the second choice. I am always the one who doesn’t get it.”

But here I was in Santorini, Greece, one of the most beautiful islands of the world, actual real life paradise. And as terrible and horrible as I felt, I didn’t want to miss a moment. So, I did what I did in Edinburgh when I was disappointed- I climbed a mountain.

In three hours, I hiked from the ancient city of Fira to the equally historic city of Oia. It involved hiking up two mountains, past caves and fields of flowers, and even in some places where the trail totally disappeared. From the top, I saw the caldera, a space which had once occupied a single island, but through volcanic eruptions had changed into several islands and is now home to some of the most beautiful sunsets in the world. It was standing here, taking in how God had taken this act of destruction and made it even more beautiful than it had been before, that I felt myself once again feel the serenity of perspective. God made this huge, thriving, breathing world full of more people and places than we can see in a lifetime. But God also made me. And in making me, he made plans for me, plans that I can’t even begin to understand. Here I am, on top of this mountain in Greece, some place I’d never thought I’d be, but God led me here. And he will continue to lead me where I am supposed to be. My semester abroad has taken me to new heights (literally) and to unexpected places and people. If God can know me so well to lead me there, who knows where God will lead me next. And this means that God is going to lead me to a senior year that is exactly where I am supposed to be. So what if I am not living the life of the people I once looked up to? I am ready to become someone I look up to, by happily embracing each simple moment of every day. My new course for life is simply being present in the moment I am in. And in that presence, to find perspective. I decided it was high time that I leave the planning to God and I settle back to enjoy the view.

So yes, in some tiny ways, my life is uncertain. I don’t know what I am doing next year. Or after I graduate. But it’s okay, because I’m watching the sunrise on the mountains in Scotland. I’m watching my favorite ballet company perform in London. I’m walking across canals in Amsterdam. I’m going to Easter Sunday Mass at the Vatican. I’m starring in movies in Paris. I’m watching my favorite musician perform in Barcelona. I’m climbing up to castles in Germany. And here in Greece, I am sailing in the Mediterranean. I’m scaling volcanoes. I’m on top of mountains. And, right here, in this very moment, I’m on top of the world.

Visages of Jesus

My mom recently traveled from the US to spend a week with me abroad. It was an amazing week showing her some of my favorite sights in the city- the elegant art museum where I like to get tea, my favorite little restaurant that serves an American style brunch, and the best ice cream shop in Paris. We even went to Barcelona for a few days to soak up the sunshine, enjoy Gaudi’s fascinating architecture, and see our favorite musician perform. I loved seeing my mom and spending time with her in my new European world. And nothing showed me how many new Parisian sensibilities I’ve adopted than seeing how “American” my mom was. I giggled and rolled my eyes as she smiled at strangers and talked loudly on the metro. . But, in her short time here, she noticed something in Paris that my aloof eyes hadn’t until now.

My mom was constantly pointing out not just the beauty of Paris, but the poverty of Paris too. She would say things like, “Do you see that area over there? Some homeless people are camped out over there” or “Gosh Megan, I wish I had brought more money with me. Next time I come to Europe I am just going to bring money to help people.” As we were taking a bus past another homeless person, my mom said, “Why don’t you write your blog this week about what it is like to see poor people on the streets?” And I replied in a super charitable Christian way by saying, “Oh yeah I don’t actually pay attention to that.”

To be very honest, in a city where pickpockets and con-artists are an ever present threat, the beggars and homeless of Paris have become a facet I try to ignore and avoid as much as possible. Especially as a young woman often navigating the city by myself, I constantly worry about the threat of being scammed. But it is also convenient to be ambivalent, and a lot easier to pretend these people don’t exist than it is to think about how difficult life in Paris must be for people who sleep in streets, don’t have a reliable source of food, face a disability, or have the responsibility of raising a child..

In this past Sunday’s gospel, Jesus’s followers fail to recognize him once he had risen from the dead. They fail to believe that the man in front of them could actually be Jesus. When we hear this gospel it is shocking to us, because we can’t imagine having Jesus in front of us and not being able to see him for who he is. And yet this is something we do all the time. How often do we encounter people and fail to see the Jesus that lives in them?

It is easy to turn away. At the beginning of this school year, I wrote about how my experience working at camp helped me to see what it means to love as God loves. After a summer of  giving and serving, I had worked hard to see and love everyone as endlessly as God does. But somewhere along the way that awareness seemed to have faded away. What I wasn’t realizing was that loving as God does and looking for that light in others isn’t something you can do for a few weeks or a few months. And it isn’t just the poor people on the street that we need to challenge ourselves to see Jesus in. Rather, it’s the kid in class who is driving you crazy, the person who lives next door who plays his music too loud, and the lady at the train ticket office who can’t seem to understand your muddled French Everyone you encounter deserves for you to see the bit of Jesus that exists inside them. Everyone you encounter deserves your patient and selfless love. Whether it’s through monetary donations, bringing a person food or giving your time and attention, each of us needs to make it a point to see Jesus in others and give of ourselves selflessly just as he would.