Another Weary Day in the Battlefield...

It has been a rough day and a long week.  One of those weeks where I look at how many months it is until summer break and I realize that I have only just begun.  My thoughts should still be turned to those of excitement and eager anticipation of the events yet to come.  Maybe I feel so worn down because I've been lacking in prayer.  Perhaps I'm simply tired.

At times I feel this weariness deep down in my bones that shouldn't be found within the person of only 23 years.  I long for Heaven.  At times, I seem to ache for it.  I'm weary of life.  Already this year I've had my fill of teenagers and they are the source of my job.  I'm tired of rolling eyes, softly muttered comments, overly talkative classes, looks of pure boredom, and the list continues.

Last week I asked my students if they would rather work a job where they make lots of money but hate it or a job where they make more than enough to survive but have to forgo fancy extras but love their job.  In one class the majority chose to work a job they hate so that they could have all the things they want, take nice vacations, and retire early.  I always figured I would rather work a job I love but this week confirmed it.  Sitting at the dinner table, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep for a week, I thought of what a horrible existence it would be to spend 8 hours at a job I hate, spend the rest of the day tired and dreaming of sleep, only to wake up and do it all over again.  Not for nine months but for the entire year.  Where is life in that?  Where is the time to actually live and be with people?

I do not hate my job.  On some days, I love it.  On days like today, I go to the chapel, beg the Lord for help, and return to the street/battlefield/classroom.  And this idea begins to grow in the back of my mind--what if the Lord desires something else from me?  Maybe He doesn't want me to teach next year but rather to......  And I draw a blank because there isn't exactly an application for "wife and mother".  [And I would cringe at the thought of answering that kind of help wanted ad. "Help wanted: woman to marry and rear children.  Will be paid in a decent house, being woken up in the middle of the night to feed/change/rock child(ren), and beautiful drooling smiles.  Mail application and sample of chocolate chip cookies to....."]

Lord, I pray, I'm lonely.  I want a "kindred spirit" or a "bosom friend" with whom I may pass through this world.  What a feeling it is to be surrounded by people all day long and yet desire to be alone, but not truly alone, just away from the maddening crowd.  Sometimes I blame God because I feel that He should have made me more adaptable to this world.  My heart shouldn't get hurt so easily by a few rude looks or a handful of subtle attacks.  I shouldn't long for solitude so much if I was to have a profession that deals with so many people.  I know God didn't make me for this world but it seems I could have been made with slightly more skills suited to life on Earth.

Convents sound like beautiful places at this point.  Not because I believe they are easy but because in many ways my heart feels very much aligned with it.  I like to be quiet and by myself.  I enjoy work and prayer.  I would love a community of sisters.  My two older sisters in religious life have made me quite aware that there is more to monastic life than that.  Nevertheless, I desire it.  Yet not the vocation itself.  I desire marriage.  I am a contemplative thrown into the world who seems to not find time to pray.  I am a fish thrown out of the water and I refuse to admit that the water is my source of life.

I'm unsure if any of this makes sense.  All I know is that today I nearly cried during a class and I've thought several times over the past couple days, "What if I didn't come back next year?"  My spiritual director has been helping me find areas of hurt and bring healing to them.  We are trying to make my heart whole again.  Today I began to believe that teaching was simply destroying the whole process.

Maybe I love far too many ideals and not enough realities.  I love my students--as they should be.  Yet when faced with a teenage girl who is subtly mocking me in front of the class, I have to keep myself from crying tears of rage.  I love teaching--on the days when things goes perfectly and my students radiate with kindness and sincerity.

Heaven help me.  So if you are reading this, stop right now and say a prayer for me and my students.  We can definitely use it.  For all of those out there facing far more difficult battles in the streets, know that my little sufferings and prayers are with you.  And let's all get to Heaven so this can all just look like one inconvenient night in a hotel (thanks St. Teresa of Avila).

The Spider-slayer

He is the king of the yard as he runs around, playing with the random toys that are scattered where he last left them.  The dogs are a repeated amusement to him but he is most taken with the newest addition, the little unnamed puppy that seeks refuge in a lawn chair lying folded on the ground.  A few "nice touches" on her head, a few joyfully babbled words, and he is off to find a new occupation.  The red and yellow mini-car is the next adventure.  He climbs in and I go around to the other side, intent upon scaring him but failing in every way.  Instead, he observes me calmly and I ask if I can get in, despite the fact that age and science are completely against me.  Before he is able to respond, I see a spider crawling on the passenger side.  I mention it to him and he turns quickly to see it.  Even with the quick reflexes, the spider has evaded his gaze and is now on the outside of the car.  I expected him to be slightly frightened or disgusted.  Rather than running away, he pokes his head out the passenger window, sees the spider, and rapidly smashes it with his little hand.  He pulls it away and a leg or two remains squished to the toy.  The rest, I now see, is on his hand, parts of it still moving, as if trying to pull life back into itself and resurrect.  My reaction of disgust is again different from this little one's reaction.  He nonchalantly brushes the spider guts off his hand and sits back down in the car.  "Spiders are ucky."  I laugh in amazement.  "Spiders are ucky, Trish.  Spiders are ucky."  My little nephew, the spider-slayer.

Sunflowers for the Teacher

Yesterday I probably should have been preparing or sleeping or doing something mildly helpful but instead I was watching the sequel to "Anne of Green Gables" and loving it.  She is a character that I like to think I am similar to.  While many mightn't see the correlation, it is there--the competitive streak, the stubbornness, the ability to hold grudges forever, the teaching career, the desire to write, etc.  So after watching the movie, I went out and picked some sunflowers near the railroad tracks.  I felt a little like Anne as I did so.  As I meandered into the tall grass, I tried to keep my imagination from thinking of the snakes and various animals that could lie lurking amid the grass and stickers.  I cut some sunflowers, brushing off more than a few bugs, and thought of how Anne-like I would seem as I walked home with a bunch of sunflowers gathered in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.  I was only missing a long skirt and a head of red hair.  [Not to mention a gorgeous man in love with me since meeting me.  Alas, no Gilbert Blythe for me.  Oh, well...that is of little importance.  :) ]

The little sunflowers, now smiling and nodding happily on my desk, have been a source of joy for me this entire day.  They are drinking up some cool, clear water and rest in a vase that I found at a thrift store with my sister.  Pale translucent green and delicate, the vase dazzles with the beauty of simple wild sunflowers in it and the sunlight streaming through the window.  I had prepared the perfect words for if my students asked about the flowers so that I wouldn't have to lie and yet it wouldn't be revealed that I live at home.  I'm not certain if they even noticed them.  Nevertheless, they brought joy to the teacher.

The Lord loves me through beauty.  The beautiful look of attention on a few students' faces...the radiant sun sharing its warmth...the intimacy of Mass in a school chapel, surrounded by youth...the successful completion of my first full week of school...the satisfaction of a classroom of my own...the anticipation of family togetherness tonight...music that makes me dance or think...the knowledge that I have two blessed days that stretch out before me with no lessons to teach...time with my sister before she heads off to school...the enduring hope and eager anticipation of Heaven.  Thanks, Lord.

Teach through me, O Holy Spirit...

August 21, 2013

My second year of teaching has begun and I am peddling my way through the first week.  It is a long and arduous task to jump back into teaching.  However, my dad is quick to remind me (and therefore not sympathize with me) that I had the entire summer to do nothing.  After last year, I believe teachers deserve that.  Yes, of course I would say that.

I just wanted to quickly share a little blessing from today.  This year I'm starting each class with some personal prayer time for my students.  The idea is for it to be a transition time from other classes and help them focus on how this is different than the rest of their day.  Today my sophomores prayed with St. Augustine's prayer to the Holy Spirit.

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. 
Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. 
Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. 
Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. 
Amen.

I asked them to spend some time reading through it and then to find a line that jumped out to them or that they liked and sit with it for a while.  I encouraged them to close their eyes and pray with the line, meditating on what they are asking the Holy Spirit to do in that line.  My first class did it well enough but my second class really took it home.  As I write this I consider that being a high school teacher has taught me to count the little victories. 

My second Scripture class spent some time praying with it and they seemed to be pretty still.  I asked how many of them liked the quiet, expecting them to respond negatively.  The majority of the class raised their hand and said they liked the quiet.  Taking another brief poll, I asked if many had a line that jumped out at them or if they just picked what they liked best.  Again a majority said one line seemed to jump out at them.  I asked for a couple to share what line they had prayed with and the first person shared that they chose the first line but that they didn't get it really.  That was the line I had prayed with and so I was eager to share what I had thought about.  I asked them to close their eyes if they wanted and to concentrate on their breathing.  I let a couple seconds pass and because my eyes were closed I didn't know if anyone was complying or if they were staring at the crazy lady in the front of the classroom.  Then I told them to think about each breath in as though they were breathing in the Holy Spirit.  And to consider that the Holy Spirit was sanctifying their thoughts and everything within them.  Just a few more seconds passed before we continued with class but for me it was a beautiful moment. 

Despite what I am often led to think, the youth have depth and desires that can be surprising.  It was a reminder that the Holy Spirit can lead and guide far better than I can.  Thank You, Lord, for little blessing, for giving me hope, and for reminding me that if I simply bring them to You, that You will take care of the rest.

Come, Holy Spirit.....