The Hopeless Hopeful

     Imre Bonyhady will be a widower nine years tomorrow. Mr. Imre was the janitor at my grade school growing up, and I clearly remember his face as his wife neared death. I had just turned twelve years old, and my heart ached for this man. Coming back to school after Christmas break, I would often talk to Mr. Imre, small talk, asking how he was holding up. A smile, I thought, could help his hurting heart.

     After I left junior high I did not run into him for years, though he crossed my mind often. My senior year of high school I was working as a hostess at a restaurant, when he walked in. After all that time, he still remembered me. That night as he left, he hugged me warmly and thanked me for all those years ago. Mr. Imre tipped me $50. I went home and cried over his generosity, and over the overwhelming feeling that God worked through my little heart so long ago.

     I see Mr. Imre every year or two, usually at Mass. He is old now, bones aching and hair thinning. Mr. Imre sat in front of my family at Mass this morning, the same look of loss on his face I saw so many years ago. Instead of sitting with my family, I decided to sit with him after communion. His face grew peaceful, yet sorrowful, when he saw me take a place next to him. He knew that I remembered.

     Tomorrow. Christmas Eve. This man lost his wife the day before Jesus came into the world. And now here he is, alone, growing very old. My heart was hurting for him this morning as we sat and caught up after Mass. I asked how he was holding up. He replied, "I would not have been able to make it the past nine years without a devotion to our Lord. And especially to Saint Terese."

     This man who I touched so long ago is returning the favor nine years later. How much we can all learn from him! Although he misses his wife, he takes comfort in the Church and in God. He unknowingly wore grief on his face today, but his heart is filled with hope. And when I talk to him, it makes me hopeful, too. 

    

 I am so lucky to have crossed his path again today. He is one of those silent angels that I know God placed on my journey with His own fingertips.

"For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! Plans to give you a future full of hope." Jeremiah 29:11

Great Expectations

     There are few things I anticipate more than seeing those dress blues twice a year. My brother Kenton has been in the Marines for around four years now, and I am one incredibly proud sister. Growing up, and still to this day, Kenton and I have never been extremely close. In fact, sometimes I struggle to find the right words to begin conversations with him. The ease that I feel with my other siblings I rarely feel when I am with him. And yet, as the years go on, I cannot help but love Kenton more and more.

     Our lives are so vastly different. I want so badly for Kenton to share in my faith with me, to feel God the way I do, to love Him and give his life for Him. But that is MY journey at this present moment, not his. I am learning, slowly but surely, to let go of the expectations I have for my family, and see the beauty that they exude RIGHT NOW. They are incredible.

     Tonight I sat on my bed chatting with Kyle, another of my older brothers. Since I graduated high school, Kyle and I have stayed close. He is my protector, who I seek for advice, and my prayer partner for our beautiful Goddaughter. Kyle was talking to me about giving, about keeping an eye out for those who are struggling. He told me tonight that Kenton is always the one to leave a big tip when the waitress looks exhausted. Kenton will go inside gas stations and pay for the man's gas at the pump behind his car when he sees that the man is not well off. I was dumbfounded.

     We grew up with little. My mom worked three jobs to provide for us, but we never had excess. And yet, I am amazed at how inclined we all are to give what little we do have. Tonight, for the first time in my life, I was able to see Jesus in my brother. Little random acts of kindness that my eyes have been closed to, as I selfishly pushed my dreams on him. My heart's desires for my family are not bad ones. In fact, they are simply to get them to Heaven and to see them live fulfilled lives. However, my wants were getting in the way of seeing the souls of the very people I love the most. Tonight I saw a glimpse of Heaven at home.

Closing thought for tonight: What if our expectations for someone else hinder us from seeing the good they have in their hearts? Everyone has potential, but God loves them where they are RIGHT NOW. And so should we. 

Tis the Season

So my crazy best friend Claire began her blog last night, and inspired me to begin one myself. I have always wanted to explore the "blogger realm," but have never found the time nor the motivation to do so. With the very apparent outbreak of chaos in the world, and let's face it, so much chaos in my own scheduled life, there is no better time than now to write about good, sweet, and joyful things. And here begins...

I once had a bible study leader by the name of Katie Ridder. She was the most joyful, inspirational, and holy person I have ever had the blessing of knowing. She dropped out of college to fulfill God's plan for her life: to serve Him as a Missionary of Charity. Before she left, she had a lasting impact on who I am growing into as a young woman. One night around Thanksgiving, she had all the girls in my bible study write down the things we were thankful for. There was a catch, however: We were only to write down the bad things in our lives. Each girl was to write down the hardships they had endured throughout their lifetime, and from that, write all the good fruit that was harvested from the pain. Surprisingly, every tragedy had a ripple effect of beauty that sprung forth from it. As we shared the brightness that came forth from our night, we cried tears infused with suffering and joy as we realized where our journeys had lead us. "Do you ever think," Katie said, "That in those moments when everything seems so dark, that really it isn't dark at all? That maybe God's love is so present in that moment that you are blinded?"

I have been thinking a lot about that night lately, and about gratitude. Every night I come home to three beautiful, quirky, kind, and hilarious roommates. I see all four of our towels lined up in our bathroom, all of our toothbrushes, our shampoo bottles, our hair ties and I think to myself, "Lord, how could I ever ask for anything more than this present moment? How could I ever be more fulfilled than I am right now?" And with that prayer, the stresses of bills, rent, school, work, and life seem to melt away. I cannot help but smile every night with blissful gratitude.

It even goes for my family. Sometimes my mother drives me up the wall! The other day we were driving in the car together, and I was ready for comfortable silence. She had other plans, as she chatted giddily next to me about pointless details and happenings in life. Agitated because I wanted to simply sit quietly together, I responded with weak laughter and multiple "MMHMMs." But as she talked, I couldn't help thinking to myself, "She loves me. She cares so much about me, and she wants to talk to me. I have a mother who genuinely wants to love on me and connect with me." And I could not help but feel grateful.

To end this hopelessly long blog, I want to remind everyone that despite the circumstances of your life, there are so many things to be thankful for. You have a God who LOVES you. You have air, and light, and the choice to love. Remember that. How we choose to embrace the circumstances in our lives is up to us: we can make ourselves happy or we can make ourselves miserable. The amount of effort is going to be the same for both. And in those moments when everything seems dark, look for traces of the light. God's love is blinding in those moments. He's there, walking with you.

My focus this Advent has been asking Mary to hold me in the tabernacle of her womb. Right now, Jesus has yet to be born. He is inside her for one more week. I close my eyes and think about a child about to be born. They are in their mother's womb, and they want for nothing. They are safe, warm, and provided for. When their mother eats, they are nourished. When they hear their mother sing, they are soothed. I cannot think of a more peaceful place to spend this season, than safely hidden with Jesus in Our Mother's womb.

I will ask for nothing, because He will provide. And despite the chaos that could come at any moment, my hope does not lie in the things of this world. God's love is so present in those shadows it is as if I were in the safe darkness of Mary's womb, peacefully resting with Jesus.

Merry Christmas, sweet children of God.