09.29.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:20 pm by newell
Another recurring theme has pushed its way into my mind and heart in the course of everyday living. I think that maybe these recurring themes (sounds, music, filling the void – read the old posts) are the Holy Spirit at work, bringing me joy, and gracing me with the gift of perspective. This time it’s mockingbirds.
I was more than delighted, earlier this summer, to learn that I would get to teach my eighth graders To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s the best ‘young person’ literature going, and it’s in my top three all-time favorites. I even wanted, for a short hormonal spell, to name my unborn daughter Scout. (Also Anne, or Charlotte, or Emily for the Brontes…. Anne is was, and a fine choice for a fine daughter.) Anyway, I was absolutely gaga at the thought of teaching it again: the lessons I could create, the projects we could craft, all the things I could DO with it! I wondered what it would be like to teach it to Southern students, and if I would lose any street cred as a Northern invader. (Not so far, I think.) Reading it again has brought me much joy. As you know, great literature reveals and re-reveals its layers, and each one is richer and more meaningful than the last. Talking about it with a new generation of students has also been informative; it has given me keener insight into the Millennial perspective. They certainly are different from ‘kids’ my age, or from those I taught ten or even twenty years ago. (Yes, this is my twenty-fifth year in the classroom. Thinking about that makes me feel a little tired…) To Kill a Mockingbird has been a familiar talisman all along the way. It so gently articulates the American character, the primacy of family, and the strength of community; it shines a child’s sacred light on the values which bind them, and us. The book never changes, and those truths never change, even though almost everything else does. (In retrospect, I’m quite glad I didn’t name Anne Scout, because Anne grew up, but Scout never will – never has to.) I guess you can tell I feel pretty strongly about this national literary treasure. Plus, there’s Gregory Peck. ’Nuff said.
When I moved from New York to South Carolina, I thought I would be leaving my songbirds behind. I had come to know and understand the various warblers outside my window in Plattsburgh, and marked the change of seasons with their comings and goings. Spring had truly arrived when the mockingbird set up shop near my back fence, and awed me with his glorious repertoire. Chickadees were sometimes the only living thing to hear on a frigid winter morning. Today, the chickadees are fewer and farther between, but there are other, Southern birds that are just as talented. I am lucky enough to now live next to a lush golf course, and it’s a real bird-y spot. So my heart jumped, one day, when I heard a beautiful series of short bird songs, right outside my window! It was a mockingbird, with some familiar tunes and some new ones, too. Serenading, just for me. And loudly! I listened and watched carefully for a few days and found that there is a nesting pair in the little tree right outside my front door. They fly with reckless, acrobatic whirls. They fill the morning and afternoon with their liquid musical joy. Sunday, they sang to me while I was at the pool, reading… you guessed it.
So what’s the Holy Spirit trying to tell me? I think the lesson may be that we should each sing our song. For me, the song is my teaching vocation: I get to teach good children about the love of Christ and how to live a meaningful human life for his glory. I can teach them the gift of words: God’s grace in his holy Word, the richness and splendor of literature, and power of the words we speak to each other every day. Maybe, like the mockingbirds, I’ve been created to repeat and herald the important stuff, the beautiful stuff, the truth. The Truth. I am reminded to sing out, loudly, and with joy. Think of all we have to proclaim!
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07.02.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:25 pm by newell
I’m in the middle of preparing to move from upstate NY to SC. It’s teaching me a few things, and I have to admit that although I first approached the whole thing with dread and anxiety, it’s really going to be okay. First of all, this time I am moving because I’m choosing to go to a better job, and to live in a place where the sun shines. I have been dreaming about a warmer, beach-y place for awhile, and Aretha’s “Hello, Sunshine” is my anthem. So this move is essentially selfish on my part. And guess what? That’s okay.
Also, I have become disturbed by our modern attachment to so many ‘things.’ I see households all around me drowning in clutter, which just takes up our energy and steals our joy. The move is giving me a chance to weed it down to just the bare essentials. I have given away lots of stuff, which is kind of fun! Family furniture heirlooms went to various relatives. Our beloved piano went to my cousin; her kids will play it, yay! (I think every home with kids should have a piano.) Tennis and patio stuff to teacher friends. Some work clothes to a program that helps prepare poor women for job interviews. Lots of stuff donated to the Mission of Hope. All of my Pfaltzgraff to a friend who has the same pattern. Broken and outdated electronics recycled properly. I love knowing that some well-loved stuff will be re-used.
I also get to see more clearly what ‘stuff’ is most important to me. Of course, family photos and sentimental items like my daughter’s christening dress and portraits. Her art supplies and sketch books, tennis gear, and beautiful bed linens. I seem to be most attached to books, especially those passed down from my beloved grandparents, or those I return to often for the comfort of their wisdom. I am taking most of my books.
Some parts of moving are stressful, and I often find myself anxiously checking lists, calendars, and bank balance. Really often. Sometimes in the middle of the night. And it does make me tired and gives me sore muscles and a stiff back. But I’ve done it before: moved a large household and child and dog, by myself (with the help of the Carpenter Bros.). This one should be a snap. After all, how many people get the chance to go exactly where they want to go, to follow a dream of sunshine and an exciting new job? I’m pretty lucky.
It’s a risk financially, and until my condo sells, I will surely have more sleepless nights. Most important will be the preservation of time and place for my daughter Anne. I will be moving her ‘home base’ while she’s away working in NYC, so my priority will be to help her feel at home in SC. Soon. And I’ve got lots of details to figure out along the way – lists and lists of them. But they’re all part of the adventure.
Some people call it relocating, but I call it moving. Moving forward, toward something new. I’m very blessed.
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11.07.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:46 pm by newell
“God spoke through Mozart and Bach, through Caravaggio and Monet, through Shakespeare and John Donne, through St. Thomas Aquinas and Pope John Paul II. He speaks in many languages: mathematics, chemistry, biology, astronomy; paint, paper, film; stone, wood, and metal; the bloom of a rose and the fall of a leaf.
But has ever spoken to me?
Ah yes, but he had to use a language he only reserves for his hardest cases: the language of pain and suffering. Pain, as C.S. Lewis says, is God’s megaphone. Make no mistake, Our Lord does not cause our suffering, but he uses it to reach us.”
Read the entire powerful article, by Thomas L. McDonald at:
http://www.patheos.com/Resources/Additional-Resources/God-Speaks-in-the-Fire-of-Pain-and-Pride.html
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09.30.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:40 pm by newell
Prayer to St. Raphael, Angel of happy meetings
O Raphael, lead us towards those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us! Raphael, Angel of Happy Meetings, lead us by the hand towards those we are looking for! May all our movements, all their movements, be guided by your Light and transfigured by your Joy.
Angel Guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to you at the feet of Him on whose unveiled Face you are privileged to gaze. Lonely and tired, crushed by the separations and sorrows of earth, we feel the need of calling to you and of pleading for the protection of your wings, so that we may not be as strangers in the Province of Joy, all ignorant of the concerns of our country.
Remember the weak, you who are strong–you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene, and bright with the resplendent glory of God. Amen.
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06.22.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:19 pm by newell
Today I was lucky enough to pick strawberries from the field on a beautiful summer day. Strawberries are one of my favorite foods, but today I was struck by more than just their taste. The sun was warm on my face, and a soft breeze blew. Not one bug buzzed or bit. I could smell the berries, warm on the straw, and had to taste a few to determine whether they tasted as good as they smelled. I am happy to report that yes, they did. They were sweet and juicy, ripe, aromatic…just perfect. (Last year’s crop disappointed, late and less sweet after a rainy season.) As I picked, I felt a sense of well-being and peace that hasn’t been present in my heart for quite a while. Or maybe it’s been there, but was just drowned out by the craziness of recent daily life. I thought of my daughter, hard at work, who would be surprised and happy to find shortcake for ‘supper.’ I remembered Strawberry Day, an annual institution in our home when she was a child. (We would pick 30 quarts and make the year’s jam on a warm day just after school let out.) In that field, I could hear birds singing, and pleasure surrounded all my senses. I decided that heaven must be a lot like this field of ripe berries. In the Gospels, we get very little information about heaven. Even Christ seems to be teasing us with hints in his parables, and from discussions with my students, I can tell that we all want to know more about it. Perhaps, I wondered today, God is giving us little hints all the time about what heaven will be like.
A talented mockingbird sings outside my window during the spring and summer every year. I look forward to its return, and as soon as I am able to sleep with the windows open, I let the beautiful, liquid birdsong lull me to sleep, and wake me to the day. I can’t tell, yet, what the bird is saying, but I know it is speaking of joy. Maybe that sound is another little foretaste of heaven.
Is God teasing us? We can’t imagine the joy, beauty, happiness that waits for us…could there be a place or state of being even better than the strawberry field? Than the bird song? Than my daughter’s smile? I bet he’s just stretching our imaginations and getting us ready for the real deal…
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05.06.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:49 pm by newell
‘Tell the truths you have to. Even if they are grim, preposterous, shocking. After all, we Catholics ought to acknowledge what a shocking business life is. Our race has been revolting against its creator since the beginning of time. Revolt, betrayal, denial or indifference, sloth, laziness — which of us has not been guilty of one or more of these sins some time or another? But remember you have to tell other and more cheerful truths too: of the Grace of God and the endeavor of strong and loyal, or weak but trusting souls, and also of the natural virtues of man created in the image of God, an image which is very hard to efface entirely.’
Sigrid Undset
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02.23.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:29 pm by newell
‘In all that we do, and at every moment, God has ordained an exact balance between what we have to do and the necessary strength to do it; and this we call grace. Our part is to bring ourselves into line with grace.’
Dom Augustin Guillerand, O. Cart.
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02.12.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 1:03 pm by newell
Yesterday, I left my classroom at the end of a long and hectic day. As I stepped into the Chapel to lock up, the late afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows. Bright shafts of color filled the air and painted the walls, pews, altar… The beauty of the sight made me catch my breath, and I stopped. I closed the door. I sat down. I spent a moment with Jesus.
I looked at his image in the stained-glass design. I thought about the students who had worked for weeks creating the artwork, and their skilled and dedicated teacher. I thought about the open arms of Christ, who seemed to be inviting me to slow down and take a moment to recover something from the remains of the crazy day. Matthew 11:28 sounded in my heart. I was tired from the first two harried, heavy weeks of a new semester. I felt burdened by lists, projects, and unresolved loose ends. I certainly felt meek and humble of heart (and disorganized, and forgetful, and overwhelmed), and couldn’t even think about the yokes of quickly-approaching Lent looming ahead of me.
I had forgotten that Christ is the reason for our school, for my classes, for each of us, every day. And the multi-colored sunshine reminded me.
Perhaps we are each meant to serve in this life in a function as simple as that of a piece of stained glass in a beautiful window. Maybe we are shaped for a specific role, and are the only one who can fill that special space. Maybe we don’t necessarily have to do anything history-making or earth-shaking. Maybe we just have to be, and be in our place, and in that way contribute to the big picture. (If the Chapel’s stained-glass windows are this beautiful, how beautiful must God’s artwork be…) Maybe all we have to do is let the light of Christ shine through us, and we will bring the beauty of his truth to the world.
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02.10.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:23 pm by newell
‘Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.’
Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings
~J.R.R. Tolkein
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01.20.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:28 pm by newell
I stumble toward the coffee maker, sleepy and not completely functioning. Yet.
I pour water, knowing that the beans will change me and make me human again.
I have faith that the ingredients will merge into something delicious, something that will nourish me, body and soul. Something more than just coffee beans plus water.
And so I wait. In robe and slippers, I haven’t even begun to put two thoughts together yet. The coffee comes first. The brewing aroma awakens my senses to the day’s possibilities. Even though I had to crawl out of a warm bed, it can’t be all bad…
The mug warms my hands, and I breathe in the steam like an Oracle, waiting for divine inspiration to move through me. Sometimes it comes, in the form of clarity of thought, optimism, and energy with which to start the day. Sometimes it comes in a spark of fun, as I sing along to a silly song, shake my tail-feathers, and use the hairbrush for a microphone. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all, but warm hands and something in the belly are just enough grace for the strength to begin.
Brother Lawrence, a 15th century Carmelite friar, sensed God’s presence in the ordinary work of his community’s busy kitchen. How wise: the task itself isn’t great or small; only our motivation matters. Making coffee in the morning? Seems ordinary, but… I know Spirit is there with me, in the kitchen of my messy little condo. If I’m really lucky, I pour two cups of coffee and deliver one to the bedside of someone I love. It is not much, but it is done with great love, and is therefore sacred.
Every morning, every lifetime: We all stumble, we wait in faith, we are nourished. When we can go forward toward our potential, we pass on the grace we have received. All in one cup. Bring on the day!
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Another recurring theme has pushed its way into my mind and heart in the course of everyday living. I think that maybe these recurring themes (sounds, music, filling the void – read the old posts) are the Holy Spirit at work, bringing me joy, and gracing me with the gift of perspective. This time it’s mockingbirds.
