Happy Easter! Alleluia! He is Risen!

What do Easter joy and Christian hope mean in the time of Covid-19, when Churches are closed as quarantine continues? 

Hope-in-God (in the theological-sense) is not the same thing as hope in the human-sense.

The human-sense of hope is basically having an optimistic state of mind, anticipating or expecting positive outcomes in life.

Our human-sense of hope has been beaten down by the pandemic, by the isolation, by the cancellations and closures. No kidding, the human-sense of hope is having a difficult time not celebrating Easter in Church.

It’s in this space between the human-sense of hope and the theological-sense of hope-in-God that we find Mary Magdalene showing up to anoint the body on the Third Day.

Perhaps Mary Magdalene didn’t recognize the Resurrected Jesus because she was looking through the eyes of human-hope. Jesus had to help her to see through the eyes of Christian-hope. 

The Good News, the Easter Joy, is that the goodness of God will conquer evil. God will transform pain and suffering into new life and goodness.

Christian-hope is trusting in God’s abiding presence and the promise of God’s goodness.

The Hope of the Resurrection–the true Easter Joy–is about trusting God to (somehow) bring goodness out of this.

Each of us have seen small blessings begin to emerge… like the decrease in air pollution allowing India to see the Himalayas for the first time in decades.

What goodness (small or large) have you observed or experienced that points to the transforming power of God?

Recognizing and rejoicing in these are goodnesses can help us better recognize God’s grace and better cultivate Christian hope.

Happy Easter! Alleluia! He is Risen!

Banner Artwork “Alleluia” ©Jen Norton. https://www.JenNortonArtStudio.com . Used with permission.  

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After the video of UCLA gymnast Katelyn Ohashi’s “perfect 10” floor routine went viral, NPR interviewed her head coach, Valerie Kondos Field about her character and skill.

Katelyn had almost given up on the sport. “The elite level came at a price. Not just the injuries, but the body-shaming and the cut-throat competition that left her questioning her self-worth” (NPR’s Morning Edition).

Coach Val became a catalyst for change in Katelyn, who had stopped loving the sport at age 11. How? At the 1:40 mark in the two-minute interview, Coach Val utters the sentence that says it all:

“I cared about her more as a human being than as an athlete.”

And that was everything.

Caring more about a person’s humanity than about the role they play, regardless of the context, is the essence of respect for human dignity.

Want to know how to live your faith in the secular workplace? Care about people more as human beings than as coworkers and employees.

How does every single faculty and staff member live out the Catholic Identity of the school? Care about people more as human beings than as students and colleagues.

It really is that easy.

Care for a person’s well-being more than the function they provide.

Stop using people as objects. Stop objectifying the body for the sake of athletic or advertising success. Stop shaming. Stop the competition that leaves people questioning their self-worth.

We don’t have to choose between people and profit, between personal well-being and excellence, between compassion and success.

In fact, look at the results: not only does Katelyn’s routine earn a “perfect 10,” not only has the video of her performance gone viral, but in the words of Coach Val, “She just exudes goodness and love and joy.”

Be a catalyst: care about a person more as a human being than anything they can do.

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Biking around my NASA affiliated Houston neighborhood is one of my simple joys.  When neighbors ask if we’re “the family that bikes to Church,” I smile with delight and gratitude.  Yes. Yes, we are.

Honestly, this isn’t something that I would instinctively insert into my daily prayer.  Yet, studying the Psalms has prompted me to ask at any given moment: What is my Psalm?  This simple question helps integrate prayerful conversation with God into the ordinary moments of daily life.

To pray in the style of the Psalms – or to pray using the words of the Psalms themselves – it’s helpful to know a little background.

The Book of Psalms is a collection of prayers and songs from throughout Israel’s history.  They are prayerful responses to real, specific life experiences.  And as varied as our life experiences may be on any given day, so are the Psalms!  This variety and connection to life is why the Psalms were so often sung and prayed in worship by the ancient Israelites, sung and prayed by Jesus and the apostles, and continue to be sung and prayed by us today.

Acknowledging simple joys with a Psalm of Praise is a beautiful way to recognize God’s presence in all things.

How?

Begin by inviting praise, such as: “Let us praise God!” Then articulate the specific reasons for praising God in that moment. And conclude by recapping the praise.

Look at how Psalm 117 – which is the shortest Psalm, with only two verses – provides a great example of this basic structure:

As I bike through my neighborhood, if I were to use the words from Scripture, I might recite the final verse of Psalm 150

But the beautiful gift of the Psalms is how they also teach us how to pray our own Psalm of Praise.

Praise God

For my adorable green bike

For its form and its function

and its matching green basket

For the ability to ride

For my wonderful neighborhood

For biking to the homes of friends,

to fun at the pool,

to Church,

to Starbucks,

to CVS.

For the opportunities I have

to share this with my family

whom I love

For all that I have; for all that I am,

Praise God

Ask yourself: What is my Psalm?  And then say it, write it, sing it, pray it.

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My kids, ages 8 and 9 1/2, were registered to do their third Kids-Triathlon.

First Tri in 2014

Second Tri in 2015

And then three weeks before the race this year, my youngest, Max, broke his arm (for the second time in 8 months–this time while playing the-floor-is-lava).

He was disappointed that he couldn’t do the tri, but understood.  There were tears, but Max has a positive, fun, jovial disposition.  While others might sulk, he had a moment of sad, then moved on to joking and cheering… until the night before the race, when he started to cry.  Overcome with disappointment, he cried, “I weally wanted to do this twiathlon…”

I had a choice: I could tell him to simply chin-up and deal with the consequences of his broken arm, I could join him in his devastation and call off his brother’s tri, or I could meet him with compassion and find a way to help him work through it.

And we eagerly waited his return…

After a while I knew something was wrong; it was taking too long.

Finally Max spotted him off in the distance.

Crying, he ran his bike through the end of the course, into transition.

So I took him by the hand and walked him over to his coach.  A multiple Ironman, multiple ultra-marathon (100 mile) finisher, who coached kids at the YMCA for free, just to share his love of the sport.  A grandfather, who loves kids as much as he loves the sport… who is one of the best examples of coaching that this professional educator has ever witnessed in her life.

And this Ironman Coach Grandpa explains to Alex that his determination to finish–that he didn’t just give up–was one of the most inspirational things he had ever seen.

Still, Alex couldn’t understand.  Still, Alex couldn’t comprehend.  So Coach Grandpa asked if he could take a picture and post his story on Facebook.  Because he was certain that there were other Triathletes that would find inspiration from this 9 year old.

We packed up and headed home.  And I insisted that Alex read the comments on Coach Grandpa and my own Facebook posts.  For some reason, when he started to read the comments of strangers who were moved by the fact that he still finished the race, things started to shift for him.  “Wow.”

Why is it that we doubt the words of those who love us, but accept the words of those we don’t know?

Regardless, those words were heard.  The affirmations of strangers were heard.  The encouragement of his Coach was heard.  And Alex started to look at his Triathlon in a new light.

Where he once saw failure, he started to see determination.

Where he once saw frustration, he started to see success.

And I finally let myself cry, but not for hurt, or pain, or disappointment.  Rather for pride.

What may have been my son’s worst experience ever may have been the proudest Mom-moment of my life.

Because he finished.

Not because he won, but because he didn’t give up.  He finished.

My son faced adversity, felt the full brunt of it, and said to himself, “I could quit, but it’s only another 1/2 mile.  I can make it.”

And he did.  He finished.

There are so many lessons I take from this experience.

• From Max who at 8 years old allowed himself to feel intense disappointment, yet didn’t let it consume him… rather, he chose to cheer on his friends.
• From Alex, my tenacious 9 1/2 year old, who didn’t give up.
• From perfect strangers who not only found inspiration from Alex’s story, but who took the time to applaud his tenacity.
• From a man who volunteers his time, talent, and treasure to help kids find success with and develop a love of his sport.
• From my husband who sees the moments of real, in-the-trenches-mothering, applauds them, and captures them on film.

When Jesus said to love one another as I have loved you… this is what he meant.  Yes, my kid did a great job at overcoming adversity, but he wouldn’t have been able to do it without you and me. When Jesus said “whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do to me,” this is part of that.

As a Mom, when I love my kid in his time of need, I’m being Christ to him.  As a community, when you reach out to someone with encouragement and love, you’re being Christ to him.  You are loving one another as Christ loved us.

This is it.  Right here, right now.  And we did it.  He finished.  And he’s proud because of you.  So thank you.

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I love how life teaches me about faith.

Advent is about waiting and preparation.  I know that.  I knew that.  Except I didn’t really get it until the year I was pregnant.  That was the year I encountered the blessed waiting of Advent as an expectant mother in her first trimester.

Up till then, my “preparations” were focused on gift-giving and party-attending.  Don’t get me wrong – I planned, prepared, and purchased gifts from the heart.  I organized Christmas caroling at the nursing home for my high school students.  I participated in Giving Trees.  It wasn’t that I was self-centered and materialistic… I just didn’t get the whole waiting and preparation thing.

So we waited… and hoped… and prayed.

In the waiting, there was an absurd amount questioning (particularly second guessing financial decisions and employment possibilities) and the awareness of a humbling loss of control.  From day to day there would be a glimmer of hope, and then a “no.”  A lot of uncertainty.

Through it all, I was struck by a deep sense of perspective.  We faced temporary unpaid leave.  Many are in the midst of long-term unemployment.  Others face terminal illnesses or a tragic loss of a loved one.  Sure, we’d rather not be in this situation, but it could definitely be worse.

This past Friday, after two weeks of uncertainty, Peter went in to work for a meeting and then used up the last of his paid leave.  There was one more glimmer of hope: his company had won a contract with three-persons-worth-of-work, but it was a matter of waiting to see if they would assign it to him.

The next morning was the Third Sunday of Advent – Gaudete Sunday, which is Latin for joy!  We light the pink candle and remember to be joyful.  Let me tell you, joy radiated from within, and it felt incredible!

Children seem to dabble in joy so easily, especially at Christmas; adults seem to struggle with stress, especially at Christmas.

We really do need that pink candle to remind us to be joyful.

Well, with this good news, I was determined to be joyful!

To be honest, although I had been setting aside money from Criagslisting old toys, I was hesitant to do any Christmas shopping until I knew whether we might need those funds in other ways.  So between Amazon and all the other stores for all the other things, I’ve been buying gifts this week.  It’s a little crazy out there.  It’s tempting to forget joy and embrace stress… after all, everyone else is doing it.

So every day this week, in the midst of every errand, I find myself pausing in reflective prayer: I am so thankful for the opportunity to do this. I choose joy.

 I invite you to do the same: choose joy!

• How has your life taught you about faith recently?


• How can you choose joy this week?

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Have you ever had one of those conversations that center around “How You Got to Where You Are”?

• How did you end up moving [here]?


• Why did you decide upon [that university]?


• That’s an interesting job… how did you come to that line of work?<[/list-child]
• How did you meet [your husband]?
[/list] A few months ago, thanks to FaceBook, I reconnected with a friend I met in 1999, when we both started working at a Catholic high school in Austin. In our catch-up conversation, Ayne asked, "How did you go from teaching to writing?" For a while, my phraseology was a secular blend of user-friendly language: "it was totally random," "everything just kind of fell into place," or "coincidentally..."  It's not that I didn't recognize Divine Providence when it happened, it's just that the workings of the Holy Spirit are often so unbelievable that it's hard to describe... Most recently, my friend Heidi introduced me to Theology of the Body guy, Christopher West, and explained my background writing for Our Sunday Visitor’s textbook series.  Shaking my hand, Christopher asks, “So how did you get that gig?”
[column width="1_2" last="0"]

Me: “Long, convoluted story.  Short version: Holy Spirit.”

Christopher: [Laughing] “Fair enough.”

Me: “I mean I could ask the same of you: How did you end up doing THIS gig?”

Christopher: [Nodding] “Holy Spirit.”

And we all laughed.
[/column]
[column width="1_2" last="1"]
[caption id="attachment_578" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Christopher, Heidi, and Jason (Christopher’s assistant)[/caption][/column]
How did I end up going from teaching to writing?  How did I end up with the most amazing, beyond-my-wildest-dreams, dream-job? The short answer is truly: through the workings of the Holy Spirit.

When I look back on my story–when I look back on my life–I see the workings of the Holy Spirit with great clarity.  I see it happening in my life when things just work out.  Sometimes it’s when certain doors close and others open.  Maybe it’s just me, but this can be confusing, especially if you thought you were on the right path and then come to find out you made a terrible mistake.

Perhaps if I explain my own story, it’ll make more sense.

A Series of Uncanny Coincidences with Impeccable Timing 

In my teens, I was constantly busy with one of two activities: youth group in my wonderful parish and the incredible theatre program in my public high school.
[column width="1_2" last="0"][caption id="attachment_574" align="alignleft" width="194"] Vernon Township High School Theatre[/caption][/column]

[column width="1_2" last="1"][caption id="attachment_575" align="alignright" width="300"] Antioch Youth Group, St. Francis de Sales Parish[/caption][/column]

When the questions about college came up, I took those activities to their logical end: I was interested in majoring in technical theatre at a college that could nurture my spirituality.  Conveniently, there was this cute guy in my youth group that was a theatre major at Muhlenberg College (a Lutheran liberal arts college in the Allentown, PA area).  He loved it, and that was endorsement enough for me at the age of 17, in the summer before Senior Year.

That summer, my parents spent a few days at the Jersey Shore with my Dad’s parents.  Pop asks, “Where’s Julie thinking about going to college?”  At the very moment that my Mom replies, “Oh, some Catholic university in Allentown…” a couple walks along the beach hand-in-hand, wearing Allentown College of St. Francis de Sales t-shirts.  She jumps up and proceeds to interview these strangers on the details of the college.  Later that night Mom calls to verify what colleges I’m looking at, and when I proceed to correct her, she actually gets all indignant with me.  Insists I look at Allentown, because as the strangers on the beach said: they have a very good theatre program and they’re Catholic.  Even though our parish was also named St. Francis de Sales, I still wasn’t sold.  I mean, COME ON!  But as any adolescent would, I told her what she wanted to hear so I could get off the phone, mumbled my “whatever” and rolled my eyes.

[caption id="attachment_554" align="aligncenter" width="570"] Pop and my Dad at the Jersey Shore, 1991[/caption]

The following month I was seated in the Guidance Office, using the computer program which asks you to enter all of your college criteria so as to narrow down your limitless choices of colleges and universities to 25 or less.  Of course–alphabetically–Allentown College of St. Francis de Sales was first on the list.  Weeks later, at the high school college fair, I visited Muhlenberg’s table only to be told that they’d suggest I contact Allentown College (who wasn’t even at the college fair!).  So fine.  I grudgingly made an appointment to visit for their Open House and even agreed to stay for an overnight visit with some students.

Sure enough, once we arrived on campus, I was sold.  My heart delighted in the rolling hills of Center Valley.   Their theatre program was exactly what I was looking for.  And without a doubt, I found a spiritual home.

[caption id="attachment_555" align="aligncenter" width="570"] The beautiful valley in Allentown College’s (now DeSales University’s) campus.[/caption]

Realizing Passion and Finding (a little) Clarity

As it turned out, I really enjoyed theatre, but more as a hobby than a career.  So I changed majors.  But I really had no idea what I wanted to do.  Or what I was supposed to do.  It was at that time that I was taking my first theology course.  And. I. LOVED. IT.  Not just “really enjoyed,” but exploding with THIS STUFF IS AWESOME passion.  My heart and my brain came together with excitement. PASSION.

But I still had no idea that this would actually go anywhere.

And then I was sitting in a study group, preparing for the mid-term or final in this theology class.  We were taking turns explaining concepts when, after one of the guys correctly explained a concept, he simply said: “Still, I just don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense.”  So I give it a shot.  I was a little surprised by the clarity that came out of my mouth, but it worked: he got it and so did everyone else in the group.

Certainty and Doubt

When I told my parents that I wanted to be a theology major, they both asked what I would possibly do with this (very expensive) degree.  I had no idea.  But I just had to do it.

By my senior year of undergrad I knew I ultimately wanted to teach theology, but figured I’d have to get a degree in education first.  Note that I never actually looked into the options… I just convinced myself that it wouldn’t work… it couldn’t work.



I’m going to pause here in my story and  draw attention to a few themes.  If you experience any of the following, consider that it just might be the work of the Holy Spirit:
[list] [list-child icon="fa-arrow-right"]A series of uncanny coincidences with impeccable timing


• Realizing you have a passion about something


• Feeling certain that you need to follow your passion, even if you’re unsure of how to proceed.

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I am amazed at the things I will do for my kids.

And I’m not talking about the maternal-instinct so-they-will-survive stuff (like sleep deprivation and all those things I blocked out of selective memory).

I’m talking about Daring to Try.

For my son’s 5th birthday, we had a dance party for 17 kids ages 3-8.  Two months prior to Max’s birthday, we attended a cousin’s wedding, which is where we introduced my kids to the dance floor.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I really can’t dance.  I try.  I have fun.  But to be honest, I’m not very good at it.  I’m a big ball of uncoordinated, awkward self-consciousness.

But what I’ve come to understand about my kids is:  They. Don’t. Care.  They just want me.  Having fun.  With them.

I see the way my kids look at me with awe and love.  It’s like they take my own awe and love of them, multiply it and thrust it back upon me.

My kids see me with God’s eyes.  With God’s love.  And with all my humanness, imperfections, and limitations, they still see awesomeness.

I have two choices here:

1. I can correct them: tell them why I’m not-quite-good-enough and effectively model self-doubt
2. Or I can make an effort.  I can try.  I can model humility and try, and try, and try again…

It’s not all that easy to try…  In her book, Daring Greatly, Brené Brown explains how putting yourself out there requires quite a bit of vulnerability and courage.  It doesn’t come naturally.  It’s a choice.  A choice I want my kids to make.  So I force myself to model it.

So for Max’s 5th birthday, I gathered 2 hours of kid-friendly dance music, including lots of line dancing stuff apropos for weddings, and burned the playlist to a 2-cd set as the party favor.  Then we cleared the furniture out of the living room, set up some dance lights, and effectively turned the living room into a dance floor.

That was the easy stuff.   At a certain point, it became necessary to actually lead the line dances.  In case I wasn’t clear on this, let me lay it out: I would rather have crawled under a rock and died than get up in front of people and lead the Electric Slide.

Except that’s not true.  Not when I look into the eyes of my kids and see their joyful desire.

So I threw caution to the wind and I Dared to Try. And the kids Loved. It.  Everyone had a blast.  Including me.

There’s a post I found through Pinterest called “Waking Up Full of Awesome.”  The author, Melissa, posts an appropriately absolutely awesome picture of her 5 year old and reflects on the phenomenon of how we once – when we were 5 – “woke up  full of awesome.”  And at some point most of us lose that.

I don’t want that for my boys.  And I don’t want that for me.  And neither does God.

Because that–with all that awesomeness–is how God sees me.  So that’s where I’d like to be.  For now, my next step is focusing on Daring to Try.

Dance! by Scott Robinson licensed under CC BY 2.0

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You know how sometimes you know something, but still: you manage to forget its meaning and import in your life?

I occasionally lead a retreat – a retreat that I created – called “Sabbath and the Busy Person.” Its focus is on breaking open the meaning of the 3rd Commandment to Keep Holy the Sabbath, and understand that it’s calling us to more than just worship.

After juxtaposing the theological concept of Sabbath with the reality of our lives, I offer the practical wisdom of Stephen Covey’s 3rd Habit: Put First Things First. In addition to Covey’s time management insights, I also use spiritual insights from Robert Wicks’ Availability. When you’re “too available,” giving to everyone but yourself, you’re sabotaging your own efforts. When you’re tapped – completely wiped out – you’re no good to anyone.

I know this. I teach it. I lead reflections and retreats on it. And yet I manage to forget it.

One of my favorite recent insights is how wonderful it’s been to have discovered the joy of having a hobby. I have posted about my new found hobby of Functional Art (see previous posts here and here), particularly with the addicting explosion of Pinterest. Not only do I enjoy actually doing these projects, but I find that when I do so, I’m able to turn my theologian-writer-teacher-mother brain off and focus only on creating something new. That in and of itself is a Godsend. Because when I do return to my busy-yet-wonderful-yet-stressful life, my brain is refreshed and energized.

I’m like: “Ooooh – so this is what people mean by ‘Get a hobby!'”

Shortly after the New Year, my Mom and I were having a conversation about trying to shift out of a negative mood. Mom was struggling with a multitude of things and wanted nothing more than to clear her mind of the anger, frustration, and hurt over a situation that was beyond her control. She had spent the morning trying to distract herself from it all by house cleaning, checking email, Facebooking, and whatnot. (Mom hasn’t yet discovered Pinterest, which may explain why she was not able to fully distract herself.)

Mom had the right idea, but the problem with her modes-of-distraction were that they were just time-filling tasks. She didn’t really enjoy any of them. In fact, they tended to drain her energy more than fill her up.

When you need to change your energy, when you need to refresh and re-energize, you need to do something you love. Just. For. Fun.

About a week after my conversation with my Mom, my friend Stacey emailed a few in the girlfriend group whom she recalled having some success with what she called “Project Pamper Me.”

Stacey’s complaint, assessment, and hope-yet-concern resonated deeply. One of the reasons I have been so WOW-ed by my new-found “hobby” of crafting is that it really is something I enjoy for me. And doing it recharges me.

Our group of girlfriends used to do yoga as our “Project Pamper Me” – sometimes as a group, other times individually. And we loved it. And it’s been a while since any of us have done it. In some way, I’ve heard each of us express the desire to return, but we each have a stressed out “how can I fit this in?” attitude about yoga. So far it has been too much. And “too much” doesn’t bring anyone joy.

So Teacher-Julie came up with a 3-Part Plan, and Kari and Amalour added insights to flesh it out.

Project Pamper Me’s 3-Part Plan:

Step 1: Identify the things you like to do that are just for you and bring you joy.

Make a mental list. Or a real paper one. Get your mind around what it is, what way it needs to function to be for-you, by-you. And maintain that approach. I can’t just do crafts “for” other people (on demand), because then it becomes a thing. Even if I ultimately give something to other people, if my hobby is to be rejuvenating and re-joy-infusing, they need to flow from me. Not from others.

Kari suggests:

• Make a list of the things you enjoy that are just for you (include big and small things, i.e. pedicure, massage, movie, crafts, reading, going for a walk, sitting in the sun, taking a bubble bath, etc)
• Make it for you, to relax you and bring you joy! (Not another task to be done!)

Amalour is someone who knows how vital relaxation can be to physical health. She’s in the process of beating an aggressive form of breast cancer. For the second time. After a full mastectomy. With a husband and three children under the age of seven. She offered some of her own personal approaches to Project Pamper Me:

• Fit in at least two soaking baths a week, during the day when all the kids are away. I really take my time and totally relax.
• Sit out in the sun for a while and get those good melatonin juices flowing.
• Once in a while, get a sitter to feed and put the kids to bed. Then go to a cafe or Starbuck’s and read. Just get a break from the most frustrating part of the evening.
• Grab a healthy lunch somewhere alone… somewhere I can get served.
• When I haven’t gotten the me-time before the kids are home (and find I really need it), Tell them: “I need a little break, absolutely do not disturb me.” Make sure they have a snack, and go take a power nap or ready/study.

Step 2: Do that thing.

Make sure you’re staying true to the unblemished form of the hobby that brings you joy.

Step 3: Make a commitment to yourself to integrate it in to your life.

Sometimes integrating it in to my day is too difficult. But I can do a weekly commitment to care for myself.

Kari suggests integrating into daily life:

• To implement it daily make sure you have a bunch of small things on the list – not just big things. That way, when you don’t have a lot of time you can still take 10-20 min for you!
• I get in the TV trap too when I’m feeling worn out. Sometimes I choose to go with it and don’t feel guilty. Other times, I take a bubble bath and read a book. Definitely find some way, big or small, to pamper yourself daily.
• If it makes it easier, pick the same time everyday.
• If it doesn’t happen one day don’t beat yourself up, just start again the next day!

Amalour has the planning part down:

• Look at the coming week’s schedule and block out the me-time. Because for me, it’s not always the same time of the day every day.
• Make sure to leave ample time; don’t feel rushed.
• In general, try not to schedule so much errand-running around.

Whatever we choose to do for me-time, be it a hobby or an indulgence, taking care of ourselves has to be a priority. Think of it as a Sabbath Moment; the time in which you get a chance to rest, reflect, and re-energize. It is in these moments which we remember to rejoice in the beauty of Creation. And it is through these moments which we become our best selves.

If you’re still not convinced, I leave you with the words of Robert Wicks:

If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for those you love.

rejuvenation.self.care.logo by guttersnipe.76](https://www.flickr.com/photos/guttersnipe76) licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

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 On any given to-do list, there are the pressing errands and whatnot that need urgent attention and then there are the projects – small and large – that tend to get back-burnered due to time constraints.

A little while ago, my group of Mom-friends decided they were going to do Project 365, taking a photo every day for a year.  Most of them planned on scrapbooking (digitally or on paper), and documenting a year of daily life in their families.  While I loved the idea, my project list was waaaaay too long, and I was pretty happy with the ease of sharing photos and posts on Facebook for all of my long distance family.

Instead, I proposed my own version: doing a project a day for a year.  I figured if I could just do one thing from my project list every day, it’d really help me out.

I had no idea the profound impact that this practice would have on my life.

I started listing out all those back-burnered things – in no particular order.  At the time I was struggling with depression and an intense set of work deadlines.  Both motivation and time were lacking in major ways.  But moreover, I started to feel mocked by my to-do list.  And there was no way I was going to let a list win.  So I began my 365 Projects.

Within a remarkably short period of time (maybe six weeks), I had accomplished all of the nagging tasks on my list.  By just doing one thing each day, I eliminated the feeling of being overwhelmed.  I became proactive.  I was, once again, making a difference the organization and function of my home; I was making a difference in my life.

But that wasn’t even the best part.  The BEST part was what happened in my attitude.

Completing each of these projects brought me a little joy.  Every time I would use a space or a “thing” that had been part of one of my 365 Projects, I’d smile.  Embracing that joy transformed my attitude.  Now, when I encounter something that frustrates me, instead of being overwhelmed by the ever-growing to-do list tasks (which will always be there), I get excited about the possibilities and begin brainstorming a solution.

My friend and mentor, Tom Groome offers a reflection on John the Baptist which resonates deeply with people in ministry (and for what it’s worth, I consider motherhood a ministry).  Tom praises John’s wisdom for knowing that he is not the Messiah.  I remember Tom inviting us to speak those words aloud: I am not the Messiah.  I am not the Messiah.  I am not the Messiah.

So often – in both our personal and professional lives – we feel like we have to do it all, so overwhelmed by everything before us that we can’t figure out where to begin.

Whether it’s your home, your relationships, your kids, your friends, your work, or the social injustices plaguing our world, it’s a good idea to remind yourself:

At the same time, that doesn’t mean that the answer is to do nothing.

When looking at the social injustices in the world, it’s not uncommon to hear people (mis)quote Jesus, “The Poor will always be with us” (Matthew 26:1).

Dorothy Day responds to this beautifully:  “Yes, the poor are always going to be with us—Our Lord told us that—and there will always be a need for our sharing…It will always be a lifetime job.  But I am sure that God did not intend that there be so many poor…we must do what we can to change it” (“Works of Mercy.” Dorothy Day Selected Writings. Ed Robert Ellsberg. Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1996, 111).

“What we would like to do is change the world…We can to a certain extent change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world.  We can throw our pebble in the pond and be confident that its ever-widening circle will reach around the world….[T]here is nothing we can do but love, and dear God—please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as well as our friend” (Ibid, 98).

Skipping Rocks by Robb & Jessie Stankey licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

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For the longest time, I really didn’t have a discernable hobby.  I mean I’ve always enjoyed doing lots (and lots and lots) of different things, but I never felt like I had a concentrated focus on any activity or interest to consider it my answer to what I would do for pleasure or relaxation.

Many of my closest friends and family members (especially my husband) would readily agree that the lack of doing something purely for pleasure or relaxation has been kind of a problem for me.  I don’t know if anyone ever bluntly told me to “go find a hobby.” Maybe they should’ve.  Hmm… Actually, I probably would’ve responded with, “I don’t have time,” which is evidently exactly why I needed one.  But I digress.

Several years ago, I discovered paint-your-own-pottery.  I loved the creative process.  I loved that so long as I approached painting like I was a 9 year old coloring a picture, it turned out pretty cool looking.  AND, I loved that I could use it in my daily life.

After a while, however, I found that paint-your-own-pottery was getting pretty expensive.  And really, how many mugs, plates, bowls, and light-switch plates does a girl need?  Well, over the course of 10+ years, it amounts to quite a bit of both: cost and stuff.

While excitedly working on painting a replacement tea mug, I mentioned my creative joy and my stumbling blocks to my friend, Stacey.  I wanted to do “this kind of thing” more often, but didn’t want the excessive cost or stuff.  She suggested: “Try painting on paper, just for the fun of it.  No one even has to see it if you don’t want them to.”

So I did try.  Twice.  Instead of feeling excitement, relaxation, and pleasure, I was filled with anxiety, completely stressed out about what I was supposed to paint and why.  The process itself was tainted by the fact that I genuinely didn’t like what I painted.  Moreover, I really did want to do something with it.  There was something about the overall purpose of the creation that generated joy for me.

Shortly after these failed attempts at making painting itself a hobby, Stacey’s sister Sara offered her own version of “Pinot and Picasso,” where she taught my group of girlfriends how to paint our own copy of a work of art with step-by-step instructions.  In case you missed it in the class title, there was also a promise of wine, so I was in.

Intimidated even further by the thought of painting on canvas, I hesitated at every step.  Then Sara said something that changed my whole approach to painting:

This insight allowed me to experiment without hesitation.  I had infinite do-over’s.  If something didn’t work, I could just try again, and again, and again until I liked it.  Sometimes that meant starting over.  Sometimes it meant painting over the one spot that wasn’t working.  It removed the pressure of feeling like I had to have the whole thing perfectly planned out before I even started.  Or feeling like it was ruined by one little (or big) mistake.

As a proactive person, I don’t ever want to feel stuck in a complaining rut.  I’d much rather feel empowered to do something about it.  With this just paint over it insight, instead of feeling bound by a choice my attitude became one of exploring the possibilities.

What a wonderful approach to all of life!  If you don’t like something, just paint over it.  As I looked around at my house, my relationships, my work, and inward at myself, this insight became one of transformation.  Don’t trash it; don’t brush it under the carpet and ignore it.  If I didn’t like something, I could transform it.

Turning towards God involves

• forgiving oneself and transforming one’s own character
• forgiving others, seeking forgiveness from others, and transforming relationships
• seeking forgiveness from God and becoming transformed.

Put another way, metanoia is about

• becoming more (and more and more) of a good person
• doing what is right
• acting with love
• helping others

• Looking around your own life, what would you like to just paint over and transform?

Drip painting by Justin Green licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

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