Infinite Mercy, Part II: St. Therese, the Plumber, and Perspective

I am writing this post on my living room couch, in the middle of the day, as the plumbers I called this morning make a repair in my basement.

I should be freaking out, but I'm not... because God is merciful!

Generosity: The Antidote to Independence

"America: the land of the free and the home of the brave."

Independence is something we celebrate, and rightly so.  Our freedom is given by God, recognized by man -- and the continuation of that recognition is key. But I think that sometimes -- for me, at least -- too much value is placed on independence in the wrong circumstances. Lately, the difference between independence and freedom has become increasingly clear to me.

Growing up, I always saw independence as something to strive for, something to earn that meant I had finally "made it." I longed for the day when I wouldn't need to have someone to drive me, or sign permission forms, or provide for my every need. Later, I longed for the independence of having my own classroom, without a professor popping in to check on me. Then, after spending two years living with my family, but working full-time, I longed for true independence: my own home.

At the end of the summer, I purchased my first home. The first week of August, I moved in; school began the second week. In the meantime, a close friend accepted a job nearby and also moved into my spare room. It was a whirlwind to say the least... and I could not have done it on my own.

I find it beautifully ironic that my first month of "independence" has been the biggest testament to the fact that I am created to be dependent on others... and on Another. In my stubbornness, I tried to be independent. But I have been struck by the generosity of others. For example:


- Two friends surprised me when they showed up at my house after an evening of bowling to help me move -- at 11:30pm on a Monday! (One was also preparing to depart for her study abroad, which made her sacrifice even more beautiful.)

- Two friends gave up their Saturday morning to switch out an old washer and dryer for newer appliances. They came at 8am, disassembled the banister, removed the door, switched the appliances (carrying them up the stairs by hand), hooked everything up, and reassembled the railing with some minor repairs to make it more stable... all in just about an hour. Payment? A glass of water and a promise of a return favor sometime.

- I came home from running some errands one Saturday to find my neighbor mowing my lawn... weed-eater and everything. "Hi, I'm Tim... figured you didn't have a mower yet. Welcome to the neighborhood."

- An elderly gentleman down the street came to the door to ask if I went to church and to invite me to the Baptist church down the block where his son preaches. His wife has Alzheimer's, and his daughter came to stay with her while he went out to visit -- and he took that time to come to meet me and evangelize!

- I needed some help with a particular struggle and asked my pastor if he had any time "in the next week or so" ...and he made time the next morning, on his "day off," when he was leaving on vacation the next day.


These are just a few of the many experiences recently that have given me a much-needed reminder that I do not make myself. If I am here, it is because there is Someone else making me. If I do something, it is because of Another who gives me the opportunity. I so frequently get caught up in "chasing the dream" that I lose sight of Him who gives me my desire and the means to pursue. I am so grateful for these reminders and all the people who have been given to me to help me on this journey... because, really, I need their help.

May we all discover the freedom that comes with being wholly dependent on Him who gives us every moment of every day!

The Rhythm of Life

I am not a patient person. I am always on the go and spend an alarmingly large percentage of my day multi-tasking. My to-do list is always growing, and since I tend to procrastinate, I work well with deadlines and check-points along the way. I am always looking for the most effective and efficient way to accomplish tasks, and when others do not do the same, it is all too easy for me to become very impatient and quite frustrated.

Clearly, this poses a problem in my life. (Well, several, actually...)

See, God is not limited to time. And since my concept of time does not match up well with God's infinite timelessness, and I recognize that my plans for my life are not always in line with His plans for my life, it is all too easy for me to become confused, lost, and frustrated by my lack of knowledge and understanding.

"God, I know Your plans are infinitely greater than what I can even imagine for my life. I trust in you. But I'm anxious... could you please somehow show me what you have in store for me? Give me a quick peek, a glance, so that I can know that I'm on the right track... please?"

I remember praying something similar to this at various points in my life, although I don't recall specifically doing so recently. But as He proves to me over and over again, God's time is not my time, and His ways are not my ways. Even though I have not expressly prayed in those words recently, the general idea has been in my mind and heart a lot. When I pray about this, I typically do so with a bit of impatience and frustration -- not with God, but with my inability to see very far down this path, my inability to see where I am going.

But when the memory of this prayer came to my mind last night, for some reason, I was reminded of my first graders -- and I saw this aspect of my humanity in a new and beautiful way.


Brief sidebar for some pertinent information: Beginning in first grade, my students count rhythm cards every time they come to music class. Level #1 begins with only three types of notes in various combination, and each level either adds a new rhythm or mixes the cards so they are no longer in a progressive, predictable order. A class cannot move on to the next level until they can accurately count and clap the cards in order, listening to each other to stay together as a class and with the steady beat of the music. If there are mistakes or the entire class isn't precisely together, we keep working on it the next class. It takes quite while to pass each level (which can be frustrating for some classes), but by the time those high standards are met, everyone in the class truly has a solid grasp on the skills needed; they are ready and well-equipped for the next task.

The younger classes get very excited about moving on to the next level. Inevitably, every day when we finish the cards, at least one person will excitedly ask, "Miss Michel, did we pass?" -- even if they know they made a lot of mistakes. They really want to have the accomplishment of completing one level and moving on to the next. When they do pass, they get even more excited. In first grade, this news is almost always followed up by a request:

"Can we see the next level? Pleeeeeease??"

I usually comply... in my own joking way. I quickly fan through the stack with my thumb so they can see the print, but cannot actually read the rhythms. Sometimes, I even do it backwards so that they majority of what they see are the blank sides of the pages. (I know, I am so hilarious!! haha) But they keep asking, often bringing more specific requests:

"MISS MICHEL!! Don't go so fast, we can't see them!" (Oh... okay.)

"No, Miss Michel! Go the other way!" (Oops! Sorry!)

"I SAW ONE!! I don't know what it's called, but it looks like..."

"Wow, I wonder what that is!"

I absolutely love this exchange because they are so excited about the things they are going to learn the next time I see them! They know I won't tell them about the new rhythm until next class, but they just want a sneak peek of the future.

Sometimes, they ask to see the final level -- Level #20. When I give into that request, something near awe ensues:

"Oh my goodness!"
"Whoa! That's a lot of cards!"
"Did you see that?"
"What is that??"

And then -- "Miss Michel, can we try it?" I tell them no, they can't skip ahead to the end, they have to go through all the levels before they can get there. They're a little disappointed, but deep down I think they know as well as I do that they aren't ready for level 20. I tell them that we definitely won't get there in first grade -- it will probably take them until 4th or 5th grade to get there. "What?? Fifth grade???" Yes, fifth grade.

See, I know that there are rhythms in level 20 that are simply beyond the grasp of a 7 year old child. Yes, they have a solid foundation, and they can count the snot out of quarter notes, quarter rests, eighth notes, and half notes... but I know they aren't ready for dotted rhythms, sixteenth notes, uneven patterns, and many other things found in that particular folder. I know they will get there, but it will take some time. The levels are broken down in a particular way for a reason: the complexity can be best understood when practiced and explained in small doses. Learn a skill, practice it, perfect it; add another skill, practice, perfect it; then another... It will take a long time, but eventually they will have a very solid and thorough understanding of how rhythms work; they will be able to sight-read, write, compose, and analyze them without trouble. But it takes work, and it takes patience... and it takes time. Lots of time.


Driving home the other night from a wonderful day at our Source + Summit retreat, where I had been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on my life, I realized that when it comes to the direction of my life, I am EXACTLY like a first grader with those rhythm cards!

"God, am I ready?"
-- Not yet, keep working.

"How about now?"
-- Almost...

"You mean I'm still not ready? Man, this is taking a long time!"
-- I know, but it's part of my plan. Just trust me, we'll get there.

"Can I please see what's coming? You don't have to give it to me now, just let me know what it is so that I know what to expect, what to look forward to down the road. Please??"


The truth is, I know I'm not ready for "Level 20" in my life. I'm in the process, working my way through, learning along the way, gaining the skills, knowledge, and graces I will need for whatever it is that God has planned for me. I am certain that God knows what is best for me, and that His plan is for my benefit. Even if, as His child and student, I think the lesson is taking too long, deep down I know it is probably because there is something I'm missing, something I haven't quite grasped just yet. He won't let me skip ahead because He loves me too much to see me struggle and fail unnecessarily.

Sometimes, I do get a "sneak peek" at what is coming my way, and it is beautiful!! Those moments bring excitement, but also a certain element of confusion: "What exactly is that? What does it mean?" Just like my students, I can get excited about a glimpse -- and there is nothing wrong with that!! -- but the glimpse doesn't necessarily help without further explanation from the Teacher.



Lord, grant us patience and guidance as we continue to learn to trust in You more and more each day. May we trust not only Your plans, but Your timing and methods as well!

Having a Voice

Have you ever been in a situation where your most deeply held beliefs are being attacked? For example, have you been in a class where a rather rude and loud-mouthed person is arrogantly spouting their ideas about the failings of the Church while you sit there in your seat, feeling your temperature and blood pressure steadily rising until steam may quite possibly emit from your ears and nose? Everyone has had an experience like this, what makes these experiences worse are when nobody steps up to defend the Church. What is worse to you? When you say nothing, along with everyone else, or when you say something and nobody else rises to defend with you?

This quandry of speaking out or remaining silent has plagued me this week (it seems to be a theme!). In each situation I have chosen to speak out. But is that always necessary? As I reflect back on this week, I wonder if my words did nothing else but burn bridges. Perhaps I had prideful hopes of actually changing someone's mind, but it appears that my direct efforts to do so resulted in simply a hardening of the other person's convictions.

So I take a step back and scratch my head feverishly like a rodent and wonder what to do on the matter. This is meant to be an open question to all. When do we speak, and when do we not speak? What is that apparent delicate balance of telling others what we know is right, and living what we know is right? I have no idea what to say on the matter, it puzzles me exceedingly. Thoughts and comments are more than welcome.

Infinite Mercy

Author's Note:


So this one time, I prayed for humility. And God, in His infinite wisdom, decided that instead of simply giving me this grace, He would provide an opportunity for me to grow in humility -- in and through my own freedom. See, God made my heart, so He knows it better than anyone, myself included. He knows that I am a sucker for beauty, and that when I experience beauty in my life, I HAVE to share it with others. (Just ask anyone who ever checks my Facebook status!) So a few weeks ago, God gave me THE MOST beautiful day -- honestly, it sticks out as one of the year's best! -- BUT in order to share this beauty as my heart demands, I must humble myself and admit to my own selfish haste, my severe impatience, my general unpreparedness... things we all struggle with, but which take a little humility to admit publicly. 


But, as always... beauty wins my heart, and I must share! (1 John 1:4) 

*   *   *   *   *

In a conversation a few weeks ago, a friend brought up the fact that she sees even the smallest, most ordinary happenings -- like hitting all the green lights -- as God's mercy in her life. Sure, God shows His love in an abundance of ways, and in the grand scheme of life and all of creation, green lights are really not all that important. But as she pointed out, the gift of arriving at work on time and starting the day off in the correct mindset instead of in a hurried rush of chaos... there is mercy in that.

A few days later -- Friday -- it was my turn.

Saints, Seen and Unseen

I know this post is a bit delayed... but better late than never!!


I should probably begin by saying that I LOVE Saints. I will be the first to admit that I am no expert, but I have been learning about them like crazy in the past few years. Maybe it's due to the fact that I feel that was something we kind of glossed over in religion classes when I was in CCD, so I had to soak up the knowledge from other sources. Maybe it's because I am a person who cannot pass up a good story, and the saints offer no shortage of intriguing tales! Or maybe it's something else altogether. But whatever the reason, the saints simply fascinate me.

The Bubble

I was catching up with a friend at Steak n' Shake on 38th Street late one night. We spent a solid two and a half hours chatting the night away as I hammered down spoonful after spoonful of a chocolate milkshake (it didn't take me that long to eat/drink? it). We talked about so many different things about what was happening in our lives, and I could tell we enjoyed every minute of being with each other. We watched as the night rush of loud teens, families, and a few rowdy drunk guys fizzle out into a relatively calm atmoshpere. It had been too long since I had spent time with this friend, my life was in top gear up to that moment, I was feeling pushed to the limit in so many ways. But to take time to see a dear friend made all the difference in the world that night.
That time with him was a bubble in my day. A separate entity that rose from the steaming vat of stress, hovered above it, and sustained itself in its own world for a time. It didn't necessarily pop either, leaving me to plunge back into an acidic world. It waited until my world settled a bit, and came back down to rest.
I needed a bubble. God has this tendency to know when we need a brief escape, so we can face the world with renewed vigor. So He gives us a bubble or two in order to calm our hearts.

Are You Thirsty?

I am not quite sure why, but lately I have been extremely thirsty! Maybe it is because I don't drink enough water at work. Maybe it is because, since the weather is so beautiful, I have been walking more at the local park. But regardless of why, I woke up this afternoon from a 15-minute cat nap, extremely thirsty. I drank a bit of water, got into my car, and headed to the park for a quick walk, a rosary, and an afternoon of reading.

A Beautiful Weekend

So this weekend was a fairly crazy weekend. Having a full-time job, where I work 12 hour shifts fairly consistently, whenever I have days off, it seems to become very over-booked. This weekend, for example, consisted of volunteering at the Washington Catholic Schools bingo, where I had gone to high school, on Friday. On Saturday, I was able to share with my group of friends in walking the Buddy Walk for Smile on Down Syndrome. My siblings and I were able to lead the liturgy as musicians for the evening Mass, followed by a beautiful fire and weenie roast with my dad's extended family. Today (Sunday) consisted of waking up fairly early [since I was up late for the weenie roast] to help coordinate a picnic follow-up event for the Teens Encounter Christ movement.

Gut Feeling

For the past month or two, I have had a feeling that I simply cannot shake.

Now I must say, I have learned it is not prudent to put too much stock into "feelings" as a method of making big decisions and judging various aspects of life. But no matter what, I just have this gut feeling that something is going to happen in my life. Soon.

Little Reminders

Last night, I was working a night shift in my job as a lab analyst. It can be a pretty solitary job, with a lot of time by myself, especially on night shift (with only one other person in the lab). We always listen to SIRIUS radio while we work, and as I was setting up some samples, I heard the song “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day. Something struck me about what they were saying.

Companions on the Journey

Vittadini doesn't speak much English. Neither do half of the toddlers running around the parish hall -- just bits of Italian and English mixed with excited shrieks, laughing as they share toys and pound on the piano. I had to concentrate a little more than I expected to understand what Fr. Carron was saying, barely three feet in front of me -- not because of the noise, but because of his heavy accent. But then, something that needed no translation: a huge smile, bright eyes... genuine excitement to hear about my career and my life, if only for a few minutes.

As I sit in front of a group of Italians from Illinois, I look over at the Puerto Rican doctor from St. Louis. Directly in front of me, our "guest of honor" - Fr. Carron, a Spanish priest who has traveled from Italy - sits next to his New Yorker guide. To my right, a local priest puts away his iPad guitar and sits down, grabbing his niece as she runs past to save her from being poked with a violin bow or accidentally smacked with a guitar. It's loud and it's crazy, but everyone -- everyone -- is smiling, laughing, talking joyfully with friends.

And then, we sing. First, it's "Country Roads" by John Denver. Then Paul Simon. And Bono. Spanish songs, Elvis, Mexican songs, and an Italian lullaby. Mix in a little U2 for good measure. Then "Joshua Fit the Battle of Jerico," "Proud Mary," a mash-up of "La Bamba" and "Twist & Shout" ...the list goes on. For an hour or so, we sing, in all languages and styles. We lift our voices with laughter and community, simply because we have a reason to sing!

Let me back up just a little. Last weekend, Fr. Julian Carron, the president of the Communion and Liberation Movement, traveled from Italy to spend two days in Evansville on his tour across the United States. Sunday was the big presentation and discussion, but Saturday was a simple celebration of community. Some drove for hours to be there, to be present to the witness of Christ working in ways that only He can.

CL is an ecclesial movement within the Church, and it's aim is to live in a true and serious way, attentive to the presence of Christ in every moment, in every gift, in the longings and desires of my heart. I'm not that great at explaining it, but I know - without a doubt - that it is a gift from Christ that has forever changed my life. Through the movement, I have met people who look at me in a way that I have rarely experienced elsewhere. I have become "instant" friends with people that otherwise, I would probably never talk to - but we recognize that our hearts are the same, that we are all longing for the same Person.

We came from different places: Evansville, New York, Nashville, Indianapolis, St. Louis, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Italy. There were priests, seminarians, married, single, discerning. Every age range, a wide variety of careers and interests... our differences could go on and on. But in all important ways, we are the same. We are all created by Him, we are all seeking the only One who can satisfy the desire of our hearts. We are all companions on the same journey, we are a community of humanity!

As we concluded the evening with the Memorare, I took note of the multiple languages I heard throughout the room. Even in all our differences - language, life stage, career, home - our hearts are all the same, all thirsting for Him. Really, we aren't that different at all!

"Poor is the voice of a man who doesn't exist. Such is our voice when it no longer has a reason. It must cry out, it must implore that the breath of life never ceases. But it must sing, because there is life! All life pleads for eternity. Our voice cannot die, it cannot end, because it implores its life from Love. So ours is not the poor voice of a man who doesn't exist. It's a voice that sings with a reason."

- English translation of a favorite Italian song, "Povera Voce"