Fr. Richard Rohr said “Community is, if you will, the medium in which so many other important things of the Gospel can happen. Community is an engine for peace, it is fuel for justice. We are made for each other. As a species we have always known we could not survive, could not flourish without each other. Whatever is to prosper, grow, or multiply will only happen with the nourishment of people who are for each other in a significant way. . ..” I think this quote perfectly describes our community here at the University of Portland.

Coming to the University of Portland four years ago, I expected to find friends and build relationships, to study and learn, but I never expected to find my community, my family, my home. I have never met a group of people who were more for each other in my life. In my last four years here on The Bluff, I have faced ups and downs with members of my community beside me, during the tears and during the laughs. I have been blessed to be with others in their times of sadness and their times of joy. I have taken care of others, and people have been there to take care of me. I have shared moments with people that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I have been shown the grace of having nothing to say but just being present, just sitting with another person in that moment, listening to them and loving them. That is enough. I have felt the most pure and joyful love from encounters with more people that I ever thought possible, and I have come to learn that these experiences are truly the love of God shown for us all.

Every time you share a meal with someone at the Pilot House or Commons, that was Christ. Every time you chat with a friend while waiting for class, that was Christ. Every time you run into someone walking across the quad and said hi, that was Christ. During these encounters, I know I often felt the flutter of joy in my chest, my heart knowing that I just had another brush with sacredness, with a beloved child of God. We see the face of Christ in our community – in every encounter with another person, we have an encounter with God.

This is a hard time for community right now. I have found it difficult to trust God. I have felt confused and unsure and alone. I tried to not say anything, tried to not mention it in FaceTimes or group calls “because I didn’t want to ruin our limited time together.” But that was the wrong way to look at it because it is in the sharing and vulnerability that we grow closer in community. It is in these moments that we are for each other, that we are known. This is the time to really lean on each other. Even apart, we can continue to grow closer. In the wake of change and uncertainty, different than anything we could have imagined, I have seen our little community explode with love and companionship and hope during these last few months. I have seen people rally around each other. I have seen live-stream masses and worship and prayer together over the internet. I have seen FaceTime and Zoom calls, some filled with smiles and others with tears. I have seen group messages and texts, long phone calls and letters. We are still together, no matter where we are in the world. Nothing can change that.

Our community is at the heart of the University of Portland. It is this community and our hope in God that will help us preserver, and we will grow closer because of it. Our community stretches across oceans, across the globe. Even as things are changing, as seniors are graduating, people are home for the summer and for quarantine, and the world won’t look the same, we will remain, steadfast and loving. I have never been more thankful for a group of people in my life, and a piece of my heart will always belong to you all. I cannot wait to see you all again soon, whenever that meeting will be. And I truly mean this when I say thank you, and I love you so much.

Fr. Ed Obermiller has been my spiritual advisor since I sophomore year when I was an FFA. Over the past three years we have met almost every month and it has been great to have someone with which I could talk about life, school, and my relationship with God. This year, our meetings have had a common theme running through them: “find things to fill your well”. Fr. Ed would talk about how we all have a spiritual well. This well we could fill and then drawn on for strength in hard times. During our meetings he would ask me how I was “filling my well” and remind me to continue to fill it. We started this spiritual exercise to prepare me for the many changes that would come with graduation and starting a year of post-graduate service. We could never have known then how relevant having this “well” would become. In 2020 we are living in crazy times; having this well to drawn on has provided me with much needed strength.

I think everyone should fill a spiritual well. Everyone should have a collection of memories, texts, spiritual practice, and sources of joy they can flee to in times of struggle. As examples, here are a few things in my well:

• Psalm 23

• Face Times with friends

• Memories of Christie Hall masses

• Constitution 8 of the Constitutions of Holy Cross

• Joyful memories from quiet evenings at The Portway

• Videos from Bishop Barron’s YouTube Channel

• The “Hail Holy Queen” prayer

• All the reasons that made saying goodbye to UP so hard

If we know these things, if we fill this well, we will never truly be at a spiritual lost. We will always know of a place we can go to reconnect with God. We will always have a place to go when we know not what words to pray. We will have a place to go when we have trouble finding joy, feeling hope, or remembering we are loved. I encourage you to take some time to start that list. Write down 3-5 things you can put in that well. As you discover more things, add them to the list. Go forth and find things to fill your well.

Congratulations. You have made it to Wednesday, the second to last day of finals week. Even if you still have a mountain of assignments, it will all be done in the next 48 hours. Last night I turned in my last final, but it did not feel as satisfying as past semesters. I purposefully postponed completing it because frankly, post-grad life is daunting. The only thing I could see coming after my submission would be panic seeing as the world is currently on hold so all plans are uncertain.

Many of you may be feeling this same immediate need for a new purpose, but don't fill it quite yet. In my reflection last night, I began to remember all the times I completed something and immediately sought after a new purpose. In sports, stretching is key to maximum performance but you have to be warmed up for it to be totally effective. Same goes for spiritual growth. Right now our muscles are nice and warm. The void this Martha-hearted world is telling us to fill is a gift. It is in this period of waiting and uncertainty we can encounter God in new, unforeseen ways.

My fellow graduates especially, this is not how we thought it would end. This is not what we dedicated years of work for. The only thing you should feel obligated to do is to feel all the feels. This search for a new purpose affects us deeply. Just as I stated earlier, do not immediately shovel things in to fill this new God-shaped box we have. This goes for everyone: look back at what you've done, reflect on the impact it made on your's and other's lives, and be proud of yourself. This is worth celebrating.

My challenge for you all is to only put God in this new place of your heart for God.

Do I admire the way I live in my every-day, normal, mundane routine? This is something I have asked myself over the last few weeks now that ‘normality’ has been thrown out of the window. The things we fill our lives up with have been taken away, and I wonder if they were fulfilling anyway? My time abroad for university has been cut short, I will have no track season this year, social events are cancelled, and summer plans are on hold. There’s uncertainty about the future, about jobs and financial stability. At 22 I’ve had to unexpectedly move back home with my parents for the immediate future and feel like I’ve lost independence. These are very real losses and struggles I know all of us will be experiencing to some extent.

At the beginning of lockdown I found myself facing a decision. Will I use this time to mope around, mourning the loss of all that ‘could have been’ and wasting my time browsing social media to compare my own quarantine experience to that of other people? Or, will I use it to evaluate my own life including my relationship with God, questioning what the truly important things in life are?

Seeking the answers to the second question may be the most important personal reflection I’ve had the courage to pursue since I came to know Jesus.

I’ve looked deep into my own heart, asking where my identity truly lies. As an athlete it is oh too easy to place my worth in my performance on the track. As a student I’m tempted to believe the lie that ultimate value is found in grades. As a grad student I hope to get my dream job straight out of graduation. These things are not bad in themselves. They have worth, and God calls us to work hard at them, as if for Him and not to please others (Colossians 3:23). But the problem arises when they become idols which more important to us than knowing Jesus. A powerful bible passage for this time is from Philippians 3:7-9, “whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him”. Paul wrote these words in prison, persecuted for His faith. He was convinced that nothing has more worth than knowing Jesus. I felt convicted by this four weeks ago when I was grieving over the loss of worldly things which were so important to me. It hit me with force – life is ALL about Jesus. His life, death and resurrection change everything, and nothing will satisfy in the way that His immense love does. I’ve proclaimed this since the moment I gave my life to Him at the age of 12, but I haven’t always lived it out in my heart. This strange period has given me a chance for the reflection I needed. I consider this a prolonged Sabbath, an extended period to rest in God, His promises and His word. A chance to be intentional about sharing the overwhelming love of Jesus with everyone around me, a chance to pour out my heart to God, sharing my fears and my hopes and my faults. A chance to pray to God for His kingdom to come in this world and to pray for wisdom of its leaders. A chance to receive His grace. It’s given me time to work on my relationships. And time to pursue passions as ends in themselves, because God made me love reading and running and cooking, and I can embrace them in the moment without intending for them to advance my life in some way. It’s given me time to consider what I want ‘normal’ to look like in my life after all this.

I think we all have a choice. We can make this period all about mourning the things we have lost – or we can make it about gaining Christ. Trust me – you will not regret choosing the latter.

Growing up Catholic, the story of Mary saying “Let it be done” to the angel Gabriel is one I have heard countless times. That event is monumental for all Christians because it is essentially where the story of Jesus Christ begins. But for Catholics, for those Christians who venerate Mary and ask for her intercession through the “Hail Mary,” it’s a particularly important event. It’s used to emphasize the sanctity of Mary as the chosen mother of God, the dual nature of Jesus as both human and divine, and Mary’s resounding “yes” as an example for how to live out the Catholic faith.

Yet, as important as these points are, the one thing I’ve heard over and over again is how obedient Mary is. While going to Catholic private school for nine years, attending youth group in high school, and even in faith-based activities throughout college, Mary’s obedience has, more often than not, been highlighted as her most important characteristic. Since a very young age, I was told that I, too, should strive to be obedient like Mary.

But I want to push back on this idea. Mary wasn’t just obedient. By agreeing to carry a child before marriage, Mary was facing the possibility of death. The high probability of death. If a woman became pregnant before marriage, she was typically stoned. Of course, this wasn’t a normal pregnancy. Mary must have trusted that carrying God’s son meant having God very close to her. But this doesn’t mean that saying yes wasn’t a terrifying decision.

Mary was brave. Not simply obedient, but brave! In saying yes to God, Mary was accepting the possibility of rejection and ridicule. She couldn’t have known how Joseph would’ve reacted, or her parents. There was too much weighing on that one moment for us to look at it and simply think, well look at how docile Mary is. It’s also problematic for us to take the most prominent female figure in the Bible and say that her most important characteristic was obedience. Mary’s act was such an impactful event that it literally went down in history! So, let’s call her brave.

This might not be at the forefront of people’s minds, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t important to pay attention to. Next time you read or listen to that moment Mary says yes to God, I challenge you to think of her as the badass, courageous woman she is. I was once asked to “pray to be obedient like Mary.” I won’t ask the same of you. Instead, I ask you to pray to be brave like Mary. Pray to trust like Mary. Pray for the courage to say yes to God’s call even if it scares you.

We are living in a time unlike any in our lifetimes. For many, this is a time filled with anxiety and fear for the future. For others, this is a time of escapism as we avoid the pain of leaving the university, a place that many of us love. As a graduating senior, I’m sad to have my time on campus cut short but we’ve been given an opportunity to use this time to press into something bigger. Although it’s difficult to deal with, I’m trying to use this time to grow in my faith.

Two things have been particularly helpful for me with this - community and the Spiritual Disciplines. First, community. Although we aren’t able to physically spend time with our normal communities that are rooted in faith, we are still able to connect through FaceTime and Zoom calls. I’ve found weekly rhythms and routines of calls at the same time each week which have been so life giving for me. More than just hanging out with friends, these are communities centered around Jesus who give me constant reminders of who I’m called to be.

The second thing that I’ve been able to dive more deeply into with some extra time has been the Spiritual Disciples - specifically prayer, reading scripture, and silence & solitude. During the busyness of normal life, it can be tough to set aside time dedicated to being with Jesus. But now, we’re getting a great opportunity to take part in that. Although I’m far from perfect with these, even spending a few minutes each day has done something amazing for my soul.

So, I’d like to offer a word of encouragement. If you can, I encourage you to try to connect with communities centered around Jesus. As we know from scripture, we can’t follow Jesus alone. Even though it’s tough to commit during a time like this, having a weekly rhythm has been amazing for me so I encourage you to do the same. I also would love for you to try out some of the spiritual disciplines if you haven’t already. For me, I’ve loved spending time in silence & solitude. It’s a challenge every time, but I feel so refreshed after spending time alone with Jesus.

To finish, I’d like to share a quote that I’ve referred back to a few times during the quarantine: “Isolation breeds addiction, loneliness, and procrastination. Solitude inspires intimacy with God, self-reflection, and divine wisdom. Intention and focus will determine the outcome.” I hope and pray that you can use this time to deepen your relationship with God.

A moment of honesty: Has anyone else been following media influencers pretty heavily these days? For me it’s been a lot of home-workout gurus, loads of Pinterest-recipe creators, and plenty of crafting influencers as I spend much of my days at home with studies and whatever these media influencers do. I’m not going to lie; it has been pretty fun following an influencer’s home yoga routine and making fancy vegan pancakes. But I came to a point where I realized that I was putting possibly too much energy into trying to mimic their life style; I found myself aspiring to match what I had labeled “good and normal” according to what worldly influences told me.

And that’s where I had to stop myself and realize: why is “normal” so desirable to me? Why do I feel the need to follow in these footsteps when in reality, I simply need to remember the life which I am called to mirror: the life of Jesus? Furthermore, if I am to follow the life of Jesus, his life was no where near “normal” by world standards, not then, and not today. Meeting worldly standards has never really been God’s goal. There’s a verse that comes to mind.

Romans 12:12 reads: “Do not be conformed to the ways of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is- his good, pleasing, perfect will.”

I’m not here to say that it is a bad thing to be inspired by a famous chef to cook something new, nor is it bad to try a new workout routine that your favorite fitness ambassador just posted. This is also true of fantastic leaders in our faith; they help us on our ways. Being inspired is fantastic, and inspiring others is even better.

What I am saying is that, as followers of Jesus, we need to remind ourselves that our greatest influencer should be him, no matter what the world tells us. We are to renew our minds according to God’s word, according to the way of life. Not conforming “to the ways of this world” calls us to instead follow the way of Jesus. We are not called to be normal, and while this might raise alarms to those around us- those who believe that the world’s normal is the best way to go- we proceed to act, speak and love in bold, ‘unusual’ ways. Why? Because that is what our King does, and he is our influence.

Especially in a time like now, when much of the world seems to be in a state of intense worry, we do not have to be overtaken by the worry because our true influencer is not of this world. I do wish to clarify that worry will occur in our lives, and if you are in a state of worry right now you are not alone and there is no dismissal of your concerns. However worry doesn't have to rule over your life, for God is above worry. He is above disease, above time and above our lives. He is our greatest influencer and he calls us to live a life “out-of-this-world”. Knowing this will give you more peace, more purpose, and more joy than any Instagram influencer could ever bring.

Thank you God for being above it all and for not being “normal”. Thank you for being our great influencer. Amen.

I have been thinking a lot about the natural world recently. This last week I have watched the tree outside my bedroom window go from barren twigs to a plume of foliage. “Spring has spring” as people say. In a matter of days my view has transformed into a setting teeming with new life.

I have been thinking a lot about the natural world recently. What marvelous little miracles leaves are! One day they seem to be nothing more than a bump on a branch, and the next they have blossomed into thee large green things teeming with the photosynthetic cells that create the food energy of life! How marvelous must the creator of such things be! Spiritual writer Thomas Berry claimed that the universe was God’s primary revelation, and I can’t help but see truth in that. When I look at that tree I see a part of God; I surly do not have the wherewithal to create a plant! Yet, our divine creator shows itself to us in the little miracles of the universe.

I have been thinking a lot about the natural world recently. By a seemingly infinite set of little miracles the universe works. Here we stand to witness these miracles. No matter how harsh the winter, the flowers return, and the trees sprout new leaves. The grasses grow, and the birds migrate back north. By a seemingly infinite set of miracles the earth becomes alive again. How lucky we are to witness these miracles, and how lucky we are to have the creator reveal itself to us though these little miracles.

I have been thinking a lot about the natural world recently. I have been thinking about a French Jesuit named Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a philosopher and scientist. I have been thinking about how he studied evolution and the genesis of man. I have been thinking about how he never tired from finding ways to reconcile science with religion, how he used the majesty of creation to draw people closer to the Creator. He saw little miracles too. He saw how little “mistakes” in a generation of offspring could lead to the miraculous furthering of a species. He saw the creator present in these moments. He saw all of creation slowly drawing itself closer to union with the creator through these little miracles.

I have been thinking a lot about the natural world recently. I have been thinking about how in creation Teilhard de Chardin saw this little miracle we sometimes take for granted called love. Teilhard de Chardin called love “the most universal, the most tremendous and the most mysterious of the cosmic forces”. I believe that is true. Every one of us who is a member of creation is able of producing this force, and every time we do, we cause things. We cause smiles; we cause happy emotions; we cause that feeling of butterflies-in-your-stomach; we cause little miracles. I see God in those little miracles.

I have been thinking a lot about God recently. Every little miraculous plant shows me the divinity of our Creator. Every new Spring shows me the delicate chain of miracles that makes the world work. Every little “mistake” that turned out to be a miracle beyond expectations reminds me that the Creator has a plan. Every action of love, and its reaction witnesses to me that the Creator is God, the creator and ruler of the most powerful forces in the universe. I have been thinking a lot about our God’s natural world recently.

“A man whose path is hidden from him,
One whom God has hemmed in!
For to me sighing comes more readily than food;
My groans well forth like water.
For what I feared overtakes me;
What I dreaded comes upon me.
I have no peace nor ease;
I have no rest, for trouble has come!”

-Job 3:23-26

Dante Alighieri began Inferno by writing, “When I had journeyed half of our life’s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray.” Moreso than one man’s vision of what hell would be like (and usually filled with the political enemies that had driven him out Florence), at the edges The Divine Comedy, of which Inferno is the first part, is the story of a man lost within the dark forest of despair returning through the compassion of his guides to his fullest dignity, until “my desire and my will were moved already – like a wheel revolving uniformly – by the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.”

I’d imagine most of us are feeling more “lost in a dark forest” than communion with the transcendent love that makes the world go ‘round right now – and in any event, I want to talk to the first group, rather than the latter.

Now at the end of my time in college, I find myself in a dark place, for I have lost the way ahead. The way ahead isn’t the only thing I’ve lost in the last month. I’ve lost all the celebrations and memorials that I thought would mark the end of my time on the Bluff, lost the chance to say goodbye to peers I’ll never see again – the kind to whom you say, “it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later” – and almost certainly lost my job managing my childhood summer camp, one that I’ve been looking forward to for the last six years and would have been a fine start to life after graduation. I’ve lost so much of what I thought my last eight weeks of school on the Bluff would look like that I cope by pretending that I don’t care and have, at best, only somewhat ever cared about this place that I called home. And as the economic damage accelerates, I watch as my loved ones, friends and family, suffer increasingly adverse effects, such that every piece of news is bad news. I have good days, and I have days when I’m so filled with despair and an anger that I usually misdirect towards the people in my life that I can’t even work up the courage to get out of bed. It seems like either one of the two options is always true: either I’m “upsetti spaghetti” or I’m fine, but one of my friends isn’t and needs help. And for those of my generation, this is the first time we’ve had to grapple with the consequences of a crisis taking place that affects us on a truly global scale – something different than the personal and intimate crises that fill our lives. “Bear with me,” I told my parents after sending a particularly angsty text, “this is my first global crisis.”

While this may be the height of pride, I’m reminded of another literary expression of anguish in the face of wholly undeserved suffering – The Book of Job. It’s not the first, and

certainly not the last, time that I’ve turned to Job to attempt some kind of understanding of why this is happening and how to weather the storm of life. A “blameless and upright man, who feared God and avoided evil,” (1:1) Job is the kind of person who we Christians in our pride all secretly want to see ourselves as. Through no fault of his own but instead the machinations of Satan the Accuser and God, Job loses everything – his livelihood, his family, and after the Accuser notes that “all that a man has he will give for his life,” severe disfigurement (1:6-2:7). In utter despair, he cries out, “Perish the day on which I was born, the night when they said, ‘the child is a boy!’” (3:3) Despite his previous piety, he directs his anger at God, noting how “the arrows of the Almighty are in me, and my spirit drinks in their poison,” (6:4) and demanding an explanation though knowing none will come (9:13-18). His three closest friends come to comfort him but as the Rabbi Harold Kushner notes, they are more concerned with defending the righteousness of God than their friend, telling him that God only punishes the wicked and upholds the righteous; by implication, Job must be secretly be a terrible sinner.

Individually, we’re no Job, at least not literally. I have my parents to rely on, and I doubt that the Chaldeans have stolen our camels, or that a great wind has killed our sons and daughters, or that the Sabeans have taken away our oxen and donkeys while slaughtering our servants. But that’s not the point; while our we all suffer in different ways, Job’s cries of frustration and anger at his blameless suffering rings loud and clear. The focus of Job’s tale is grief, and a wholly justified anger at a God that has stripped him of everything that he came to rely on. It’s the same irrevocably human emotion that fuels Dante. In the same way, we don’t know why Dante finds himself in the dark forest – and finding the reason why won’t do anything, it’s not the point. Nor is the point of our shared anxieties and sufferings trying to figure out who has it the worst right now.

The moral of this story is: this sucks. And it’s ok to say that. Now, I really need to stress that I’m not trying to argue with anyone, or prove someone wrong, but rather to ask ourselves to be careful not to beat ourselves up in the midst of our despair. Don’t do to yourselves what Job’s friends do to him, by thinking that there must be a higher purpose that wanted all of this to happen, or that this is a test made to reveal our true colors, or that you are somehow a bad person for not coping well in the midst of dark times. The unaddressed downside to the message of gratitude, hopefulness, and mindfulness is the same as the all-too-often downside of “Catholic guilt”: does being upset because I feel like my life seems to have unraveled make me weak? Is the fact that my hopefulness is more of an abstract rational principle than a fervent feeling in the heart a sign that I’m bad person – or worse, a bad Christian?

No. No it doesn’t, and no it isn’t. Hope and fear are not mutually exclusive; though Dante is filled with hope at the prospect of the rising sun, it does little to extinguish the fear caused by the wild lion directly in front of him. Being Christians and people of hope does not mean we should beat around the bush and make a molehill out of a mountain – but it also doesn’t mean that the reverse is true. Extreme grief and being filled with anxiety in the midst of despair is, as Job shows us, an eminently human and valid response to the problem of evil. And it’s a response that’s ultimately somewhat vindicated: though Job repents his cursing of God and accepts that, as the saying goes, “the Lord works in mysterious ways” – seemingly accepting that God will afflict

the righteous and the wicked – God’s “anger blazes” at the friends who tried to convince Job of his sinfulness.

The point of Job, as I understand it, is that trying to understand the causes and the meanings of suffering is an impossible task that will only breed more of the same. I’m not going to pretend to understand the Book of Job any more than that.

Grieve the way you must grieve, feel pain the way only you can feel it, feel anger at the injustices we’ve felt and that we see. But at the same time, we must give ourselves the objectivity and the space to do that, to hold ourselves in balance before all created things and not become lost in the intoxicating power of powerful emotion. As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin put it, “accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.” Remember that hope, as Pope Francis put it on the Easter Vigil, “is not mere optimism; it is not a pat on the back or an empty word of encouragement, with a passing smile.” Even these hopes, the Holy Father tells us, will fade. Rather, “Jesus’ hope is different. He plants in our hearts the conviction that God is able to make everything work unto good, because even from the grave he brings life.” The hope that the Holy Father speaks of us is not an attitude or a feeling, but an understanding that even when we cannot feel anything, as the dark forest crowds around and everything turns to ash in our mouths, we are not alone. Miracles work in mysterious ways, and now they work in the small graces of phone calls and check-ins and walks to pour your heart out in, in the fortitude of those stepping up to respond to the crisis, the care showed by a friend with the insight to say “I’m sorry, that sucks” and exchange explanation for commiseration, by the eye that inexplicably finds a way to twinkle at the night air or the warmth of a hot cup of coffee or even while playing Xbox with your dumb best friends, and the courage to not hurt yourself for feeling hurt, all with the understanding, if not the feeling, that sometime, someday, we like Dante and Virgil will,

“[come] on that hidden road
To make our way back into the bright world;
And with no care for any rest, we climbed –
He first, I following – until I saw,
Through a round opening, some of those things
Of beauty Heaven bears. It was from there
That we emerged to see – once more – the stars.”

In the midst of the testing of our faith, God proves his unchanging and unfailing love to His children. As I try to grasp what is going on in the world today, I quickly realize that I may not ever be able to grasp what God is doing and that I have to trust the process all according to His will. Instead of trying to take control and pinpoint what is happening exactly and how it can all be solved, I instead have found myself resting in God’s grace and truth.

My quiet times in the Word have centered upon God’s character, who He is, and what He does for His beloved children. I keep coming back to Psalm 3 and 4. Some truths and promises I have found in these verses have been:

God is a shield for us.
God lifts us up.
He hears us and answers us.
He sustains us and gives us righteousness.
He relieves us in our distresses.
He sets us apart.
He gives us more Joy.
He is our hope and security.

These characteristics of God are unchanging and never fail; this is the lesson I have learned after releasing control. I have realized that God is working through the hurt, through the sickness, and through the devastation. He wants His children to gaze upon Him, be still, and trust in who He says He is. Once we lose the control, we so dearly want to hold on to, there is Joy and thought there may not be understanding right now, there will be answers one day. So right now, in this time we have to come to a resting place in our faith and rest in His sovereignty. We cannot let isolation blind us to God’s loving character.

My hope is that you lose control in this time of seeking and rest in God’s grace even though we do not have the answers. We must fear the Lord, with humble submission and honor. I encourage you to find these promises as I did and read Psalm 3 and 4. Even though we may not see it, He is working, we just have to lean into His place of rest. Remember that He is a waymaker, a miracle working God, and keeps his promises!

No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that rock I’m clinging! Since Christ is Lord of heaven and Earth, how can I keep from singing?

I thought of a funny analogy on Easter Vigil: COVID-19 is to Easter as the Grinch is to Christmas. In the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas (I’m talking about the old animated version), that strange green creature is standing knee deep in snow and saying, “It came without packages, boxes, and bags!”. To me, the little whos are such a picture of hope and joy, because even though so much had been taken from them, they still sing to welcome Christmas. I felt a little bit like that on Easter Vigil, sitting in front of my laptop in my room, singing alleluia at the top of my lungs. The whos might feel a little silly too, gathering together without a tree, but they do it anyway because even the Grinch and all his scheming can’t stop them from singing for joy.

Of course, the whos in Whoville are able to come out of their homes and hold each other’s hands. That would certainly be nice–I truly miss a good handholding. Yet, I would argue that even if somehow the whos were forced to stay in their homes, they would stand at their windows and sing with each other anyway, their little furry faces smiling away. I love those little whos.

What’s interesting about the whos is that they are all very musically gifted, so it makes sense that they use their singing to create something beautiful and give thanks. I also love singing, so maybe that’s why this analogy came so naturally to me. So often close my eyes and sing as my deepest form of prayer. I love thinking about my song as being an interaction between my lungs and God’s breath.

However, not everyone likes to sing! God gives us all different talents. I encourage you to use your own talent to give thanks to God. When you’re in your element (exercising, painting, cooking, writing, or doing anything where you feel you are so naturally doing you) invite God into that activity, feel God moving through your veins, the paintbrush, your feet running. How do you use your talent to praise God?

So nice try COVID-19; Easter came without packages, boxes or bags. Little did this pandemic know, we’re whos filled with hope! Da who Doraze, alleluia!

Some of my favorite feed on social media are beautiful ‘paradise’ places all over the world. There are a few accounts related to travel I follow in hopes of checking them off my bucket list someday! During the of Spring 2018, as I read St. Augustine’s Confessions I was struck by the following quote:

"Men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, yet pass over the mystery of themselves without a thought."

I stopped and thought about it for a few minutes, it later became the quote at the bottom of my emails, and I did not hesitate to print it out to hang it up in my dorm room. How true! We completely dismiss the mystery that each of us is. We underappreciate God’s “very good” (Genesis 1:31) creation. The very same elements that make up the beach that is sodium, potassium, chloride, magnesium, and calcium are the same ions that maintain homeostasis in our bodies!

As a Biology major, I am fascinated to see the parallels between the external world and our body physiology. We are complex beings! A healthy heartbeat doesn’t simply occur because of the heart muscle’s contraction. It must be in good communication with the brain and the biochemical levels in the body. Everything in our body is interconnected just like the world we live in. But we rarely take the time to think about the interconnectedness we were all born into!

If a part of our body is injured our homeostatic balance will direct the energy towards this hurting part. This is what we do as people of faith. As members of the Body of Christ, we direct our prayers to lift those members hurting. During COVID-19 lets us not be upset about the bucket list that cannot be checked off but let us reflect on the mystery of ourselves. We are made in the image, likeness, and wonder of God and united through Him in prayer.

What are three things you are grateful for?

Please, wherever you are, stop what you are doing, take out a piece of paper (or the notes app on your phone) and write them down.

As I write this, my list consists of:

• Audiobooks to listen to while I work in the yard, and clean the house

• Sunny days that are making the earth feel alive

• FaceTime, Skype, and Zoom for giving me a space to keep in contact with friends and family

In my daily life, I need a lot of gentle reminders to practice gratefulness. At the beginning of my Student Teaching Practicum, the School of Education gave all students in their Professional Year a planner that was intentionally created to give space for gratefulness and build in mindfulness throughout the day.

Throughout the school year I needed that reminder to stop, pause, and be grateful. I won’t lie, there were some days where it was REALLY tough to do, and many others where it just didn’t happen. Universities are filled with people who are busy. We go from meeting, to class, to meeting, to group project, to study, to volunteering, and who knows what else. It’s our culture. We are working on learning the skills and practices that we will use in some fashion throughout the rest of our lives. How could we not be busy?

This year my busyness came in the form of being a Student Teacher, and an RA. Both of which were amazing and fulfilling positions that made my Senior year unforgettably wonderful. With all things that are incredibly wonderful by virtue of the energy you are asked to devote to them, they are also, at times, overwhelming. I remember so many days where it felt like I didn’t have time to stop and breathe. There were some days where I felt too busy to take out my planner and write down those three things that I was grateful for.

Even through the stress, I would go back to school in a heartbeat. I miss going to my student teaching and interacting with students. I miss duty nights, having my door open and hanging out with residents and friends until 2 a.m. I miss all the many things that needed doing.

Yet I am surprised by a calm. It’s a new kind of calm that I have not experienced before. There is uncertainty all around, and chaos for many people, and yet I am at home. I, along with many other individuals throughout the world, are at home with an uncertain quiet all around them.

“Quiet” may be an odd phrase to use. Your day-to-day life might not be quiet at all. It may be filled with family, essential co-workers, or video-call meetings to maintain a steady buzz of literal noise in your life. But the world is quiet. So much so that seismologists are hearing earth movements from much farther distances than normal as the hum of traffic and constant travel have provided much less interference. The world has literally quieted.

There is a quiet that is taking the place of a lot of day-to-day routines with the opportunity to BREATHE. Breathe by sitting on your porch in the sun, by driving to your job at the Health Care clinic without traffic, by going to sleep early (or sleeping in late, or both), by taking a walk, by long daily chats with family on the other side of the world. There is a new sort of space to breathe.

I don’t want to minimize the loss. If you ARE feeling loss, stress, confusion, or anger: FEEL IT FULLY. Journal about it and get it out in the open. Then stop, and breathe. Do something that allows you to take control of that space that used to be filled with the constant hum of busyness.

Then, once you have acknowledged your state of being and taken a deep breath of life, please stop what you’re doing and write down three things for which you are grateful. It’s a small action. But I believe it can be a powerful reframing of mind to look positively and hopefully at each day. I hope you will join me in practicing gratefulness each, and every, day.

By now, people have become accustomed to staying within the walls of their living quarters while others are eager to break free. I am somewhere in the middle. This week I was struck with nearly incurable boredom ( I say nearly because there was a solution, but I won’t reveal it until later). This fit of boredom was parallel to those you may have had as a kid when there was nothing for you to do on the weekend. I’ve never liked being on my phone, my eyes were tired of looking at screens and one can only exercise and nap so much in one day. So, I decided to go to my room for some alone time and just sit & be. It was then that I realized how sacred my room is. The fact that I am so fortunate as to have a space I can call my own is a gift, but to also have that same space be facilitative to class, sleep, homework, and prayer is a blessing.

In these moments of boredom, the only thing that can fulfill this stimulation void is prayer. I am not exclusive in my form of prayer (although I am really liking the Chaplet of Divine Mercy). My heart has not become restless, rather I am finally in a place where I finally realize my restlessness and longing for God. All humans have cravings the internet cannot always satisfy. Even the most introverted of us have a love language that requires some human interaction. In this time of social distancing, we are asked to stay within walls. We are asked to limit face-to-face contact, making ourselves aware of our personal restlessness. The walls we are currently asked to stay within are actually sacred because they keep hold of all the thoughts and prayers you meant to tell God but may have forgotten. When you sit down and just be, these thoughts will return and you will then be able to communicate these with God. The walls we live in are secret spiritual spongey boomerangs, ready to hand you your thoughts and reflections that may have slipped your mind throughout the day. God wants to know you and have a relationship with you. The walls we may feel trapped within are actually freeing us by assisting us in an eternal relationship with God.

Challenge: Next time you are feeling bored or looking for something to do, just be for 5 minutes. You don’t have to do anything specific, just be with God and acknowledge the Spirit’s presence in your space. Try and find a space you can call your own sacred space.

¡Felices Pascuas!

In other words, Happys Easters! Yep, you read that right, HappyS EasterS, I indeed meant that to be plural. I learned this Spanish phrase while studying abroad in Granada Spain last year and I was completely floored that there was a way to capture the longevity of the Easter season in one greeting. We can celebrate multiple Easters, multiple resurrections, for many days to come. For me, Easter certainly is about eating lots of candy, spending time with family, singing songs, and wearing pastel colored dresses, but it is also more than that. It is more than just a single day of celebration.

Easter is a time in which we are renewed and able to start fresh after our journey through the desert. It may not feel like we are starting new and fresh these days because our lives are far from normal, but I know that God will rise out of any space that we make available. All of the struggles and hurdles of lent have been with purpose and in the companionship of God, even if it didn’t feel like it. And now, we are given the chance to allow God to rise up within us. The Easter season is 50 days; meaning, we have 7 weeks to celebrate life and to spread the joy of Christ.

Today, greet someone with a smile, a wave, and a Happy Easter! Everyone can use a little more joy in the world and the reminder that today, and every day, we have the chance to start again. I want to leave you with another Mother Teresa quote, “I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.”

Stop, pause, and breathe. It’s Easter! Something I struggle with is accepting the fact that there is never a time that God doesn’t love us, and there is nothing we can do that will take that love away. There simply is not a day where we aren’t His children. That is something a dear friend drills into my brain weekly. This season of Easter serves as a beautiful reminder that hope has been reborn, and of God’s everlasting love.

I struggled this Lent. I had a hard time when it came to adhering to a disciplined prayer schedule, meditating or other avenues of faith improvement. I felt as if I kept falling short. I walked into the season with a checklist and a new pen expecting to master the list. Not acknowledging that Lent indeed is not a checklist and that humans are imperfect. So, when I didn’t succeed as I envisioned I was disappointed and engulfed by that feeling. I was expecting a different kind of growth, one that was tangible, that I could hold in the palm of my hand. I was so engulfed in disappointment that I couldn’t see my many successes and progress that I have made in the past two months. By experiencing and recognizing those feelings, if you feel similarly, stop, pause, and breathe. Faith is not categorized by our failures but rather by our mindset and how we treat others and strive to improve ourselves not just in one season, but throughout our lives. Faith is resilience, it’s a lifelong marathon. Don’t let where we fall short as humans mask the joy in where we succeed and grow

But my friends, today is Easter Monday, and Easter means hope and rebirth. As we have hope and celebrate in the resurrection of Jesus, we are allowed to have hope for ourselves as well. That thought is what I am focusing on. My faith and its journey are wrapped in God's everlasting love and will be with me in every breath I take. I am an imperfect human being loved by a perfect God. I invite you to join me in that realization and to rest in the knowledge that we are always loved and that there is never a time that God closes the door.

So, did I not Lent enough? Maybe. But God still loves me, nonetheless. To conclude, I want to share some inspiring words that Pope Francis spoke at a homeless shelter he visited in 2013. He said, “To love God and neighbor is not something abstract, but profoundly concrete: it means seeing in every person the face of the Lord to be served, to serve him concretely. And you are dear brothers and sisters, the face of Jesus.” These words are hopeful. And as it is the day after Easter, I am a reminder of how Jesus’s sacrifice is an invitation to continue his mission on earth. Easter blessings to you all.

“We are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song.” –St. Augustine

Two years ago, I had to take a medical leave of absence from UP due to an unfortunate diagnosis. I spent Lent and Holy Week at home in Colorado, immersing myself back into my home parish to stay connected to God and my faith as best I could. I remember attending the Easter Vigil mass with some of my dearest high school friends and feeling grateful to be with them despite my circumstances. One of my favorite aspects of the East Vigil liturgy is how each year the congregation enters in darkness with only a candlelight to guide their way. After three hours of scripture readings, baptisms, confirmations, and first communions, the lights go up, trumpets roar, and the congregation cries out singing “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!”. Any darkness and sorrow that once filled the church is muffled by the sounds of rejoicing.

In that moment two years ago, I relinquished all the fear, doubt, and sorrow I was experiencing. Everything I had experienced in the months prior was lifted, and I remember feeling weightless and joyful to the point of tears. I wish I could say that moment was the end-all-be-all for my suffering; the past two years have continued to be an uphill battle. However, I’m reminded of that moment this Easter with the current COVID-19 pandemic; it’s a reminder that despite the unfortunate realities of our lives, there is truly great joy ahead.

We’ve walked through the desert with Jesus for 40 days. We’ve welcomed him into our homes, waving palms and crying out “Hosana!”. We’ve gathered with him at table. We’ve wept with him in the garden of Gethsemane, walked with him to Golgotha, and carried our crosses along the way. And even though we’ve denied him, beaten him, and nailed him to the cross, today he rises. Today, he gifts us joy. Today is a reminder that Christ overcomes all, and in Him, so will we.

Even amidst current difficult, trying, and unpredictable times, Easter reminds us that God wants each of us to experience the joy of the Resurrection in our lives. Easter means that nothing can keep us from the joy and love that God wants to give us. Even when we struggle and cry out in agony like Jesus in the garden, those sufferings will not win. The Resurrection won with Christ, and it will always win. On this blessed day, spend some time pondering the gifts and joy that God has given you. Let us truly be glad and consider it all joy. Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!

Hide. Wait.

Following the death of Jesus Christ on Good Friday, that is exactly what the disciples did. With fear in their hearts, they ran away and locked themselves into the Upper Room (JN 20:19). Everything they had been accustomed to during Jesus' years of public ministry had appeared to have come to an end. Jesus, the source of their joy was gone and the disciples did not know when He would ever return. So they kept to themselves, hidden behind closed doors, waiting for some kind of sign.

I cannot help but realize some of the parallels between the disciples experience years ago and what we are facing now. The world as we know it has come to an abrupt halt. We are afraid and we have been forced to close ourselves off from one another in our homes. Without any real end in sight, it is difficult to have faith.

But we are in the midst of one of the greatest mysteries of our Christian faith. In the days between Christ's Passion and Resurrection we remember that He descended to Hell to save us from our sins, to redeem us. He will return to us a life of true freedom through his love.

These gifts that Christ brings us through His Resurrection were not only for his disciples, 2000 years ago. They are for all people: past, present, and future. We are saved.

We must remember that Christ will not leave us. I challenge you to make a prayer of trust to Jesus. Renew your promise of faith in God, so that in the coming time of Easter we may be rooted in faith and ready to take on the challenges ahead. Times are dark now, and Christ seems far away, but he is working a mission of healing and it takes time just as in the days between His death and return to life. Hold on to hope. Hold on to each other just like the disciples. Healing will come.

Hope can be such an allusive thing. It seems that there are always plenty of reasons to hope, right up until we need hope most … then it just seems to vanish. On Good Friday, hope seems to vanish, God has died. In memoriam we drain the holy water fonts, we empty our tabernacles, the universal church goes into morning. While this period of ritual morning is beautiful, this year is different. This year, our suffering and sorrow takes on a deeper meaning. It may be hard to find our hope … but it is there.

When I need to find hope, I turn to the Constitutions of Holy Cross. The priests and brothers proclaim the motto “Ave Crux Spes Unica”, hail the cross our only hope. When they look at the cross they do not see only the sadness, the pain, and the suffering. They see too how this loving act of sacrifice brings salvation to the world. They see the hope that lies beneath the suffering, and it is the only hope they need. They know that “all is swallowed up in victory. He has nothing but gifts to offer. It remains only for us to find how even the cross can be borne as a gift”. We too can find that gift, that hope.

In the congregation, they look to Mary an example of finding that hope. Their constitutions say “There stood by the cross of Jesus his mother Mary, who knew grief and was a Lady of Sorrows. She is our special patroness, a woman who bore much She could not understand and who stood fast”. Today, we like Mary sit at the foot of the cross. We see the suffering of Jesus, our suffering, and the suffering of our world today. It is so easy to get caught up in that, it is so easy to only see the suffering. But, like Mary we must be steadfast.

As we sit in this place of suffering, let us remember that Christ too has suffered, and he knows our suffering. We can offer up our pain to a God who knows pain, and that is a beautiful thing. God is with us in our suffering, and today we are with him in his. Though things might seem dark and hopeless right now, we do not walk in darkness, “we know that we walk by Easter’s first light” because we have the cross, and it is our only hope.

If you have some time, I encourage you to read through the Holy Cross constitution on hope (link below). I encourage you to pick out a word of phrase that will help you remember to have hope and put it somewhere you will see it every day. I have done this, and it helps me to see hope.

https://holycrosscongregation.org/holy-cross-resources/constitutions/8-the-cross-our-only-hope/

Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end. The devil had already induced Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, to hand him over. So, during supper, fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and dry them with the towel around his waist. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Master, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered and said to him, “What I am doing, you do not understand now, but you will understand later.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.” Jesus said to him, “Whoever has bathed has no need except to have his feet washed, for he is clean all over; so you are clean, but not all.” For he knew who would betray him; for this reason, he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

So when he had washed their feet and put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’ and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”

John 13: 1-15

Tomorrow, Jesus dies.

Take a minute right now to really think about that statement. Tomorrow, Jesus dies. What does this make you feel – what emotions does this stir in your heart. Tomorrow, Jesus dies. He dies for you.

Right now, the world is hurt, we are hurt. Especially with the Covid-19 pandemic, things are changing, things are uncertain, and we are overwhelmed – now is the time when we most need to look to the Cross. I remember being in the Chapel of Christ the Teacher, getting my feet washed during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. This year is not what I expected – I had hoped to spend my last Easter on campus, to fully participate in the Triduum, and be with my community during this sacred time. This year, we are streaming mass from our homes, unable to be physically together as a community, but God is still present with us all. In the Gospel reading for today, I highlighted one line – that Jesus was “fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power.” Jesus was Divine, but he was human. He had free will too. Just like us right now, he felt scared, things were changing, and he knew the pain he was to endure. We are enduring pain too. We are closer to Christ in this moment now, we are with him in his suffering, and he is with us in ours. Spend some time with Christ today – think about his sacrifices and think about yours. Bring your pain, your fear, your loneliness, your sadness, bring all you are to him. Let Jesus take it all to the Cross, because he chose it for you. He chose you.

I challenge you all, to spend some time in prayer tomorrow, just before 3 pm, the hour of the Lord’s death. Place yourself at the foot of the cross. Look at Jesus, seeing him there, through his pain and gazing upon your face. Looking at you with the most pure and merciful love, Jesus took your sin, your pain, and your suffering to the Cross.

Have you ever wondered what happened during the O.G. Holy Week? Most people, myself included, mostly focus on Palm Sunday and the Triduum, but what about Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday? This year I decided to spend some time sitting with the events of these days.

This is the best analogy I could come up with (no pun intended): Holy Week is to Easter as dead week is to finals. Just think about it. Everyone thinks finals are the most stressful part of the semester, but we all know that the week before is worse. Those semester-long projects are finally due, people are making last-minute plans to say good-bye, and you’re are so close to break you could almost taste it. Not to mention you still have to cope with the overarching pressure from the week to come.

Jesus knew he was going to die at the end of the week. It was those 6 days that contained the agony. He cleansed the temple, gave his last sermon, and broke bread with his disciples all in preparation for his final: crucifixion. Thankfully he passed the test and we may live for righteousness, but look at how much He did just in Holy Week alone.

This week, Lenten season, and period of quarantine have taught me to appreciate the process. We get caught up in how much we have due that day while still looking up at that mountain this work is preparing you for. Don’t forget to look back when you’re at the top. Better yet, never forget to look back (unless you’re running from a dragon, just find shelter). It is when we reflect on the journey we have done or are on that we realize our true strength. It is when we sit with the work of Jesus, especially from Monday through Wednesday, that we realize how much He loved us.

Challenge: Sit with Jesus, even if it’s just for 5 minutes. Imagine the preparation he went through today for this weekend. How has your Lenten journey prepared you for this weekend?

How about we start with a little game? Come up with one answer to each of these questions: What do you love doing? What do you despise doing? What do you want to quit? What do you want to keep? What is so unremarkable in your life that you rarely notice it? Take some time to think…

Once you have your answers, go ahead and take a peek at mine: I love playing with my nieces and nephews, I despise washing a sink full of dishes, I want to quit spending so much time on my phone, I want to keep in touch with friends and family, and I think running water is typically so unremarkable that I don’t even notice it.

What I mean by running water being unremarkable is that when I turn on the faucet, flush the toilet, or take a shower, crystal clear water flows through the pipes without any hesitation. Once in a while, I take note of the running water when my shower takes too long to warm up or I hear the leaky faucet dripping in the bathroom. But I would estimate that at least ninety-five percent of the time, the luxury of running water seems so unremarkable that I don’t even give it a first thought, let alone a second.

Back to the list of the questions. They are pretty basic, but I think the answers say a lot about who a person is, what they value, and how they think on any given day. And that’s the most interesting part; the answers I choose today could be different from the answers I might say tomorrow or next month or in fifteen years. Things change, people change, seasons change, and what seemed so unremarkable yesterday could become the only thing I can think about today.

My guess is that in the midst of this Coronavirus Pandemic, most, if not all of us, can name dozens of changes to our daily routines, to what we value and appreciate, and a new awareness of the once unremarkable aspects of our ordinary lives. For me, those changes include not seeing my professors and classmates face to face, losing my final track season with a team that means the world to me, not being able to say goodbye to friends that I thought I’d have more time with, spending most of my time in a quiet house next to a deserted campus, and watching mass from the YouTube live stream. Talk about a life-changing Lent!

I have always been attentive to the season of Lent as a time of change, transformation, and growth, but this season is certainly in a league of its own. And we have yet another change as Lent comes to an end and Holy Week begins; I simply want to offer a reminder and perhaps a challenge to become increasingly aware of the changes taking place and the opportunities for growth. Choose to embrace the uncertainties, practice hope in the face of fear, and seek to notice and be grateful for the unremarkably ordinary things which are likely essential to your everyday existence.

One thing that has always struck me about the Gospel on Palm Sunday is how everyone is attempting to get Jesus to say who he is. Jesus is being put on trial, and they ask, “Are you the Son of God?” and “Are you the King of the Jews?” And Jesus simply says, “You say so”. As a kid, and honestly still today, sometimes I get frustrated with Jesus in the Gospel. I’m like, “Ok but you are God so why don’t you just say that?? Why don’t you walk around saying, ‘I am the Son of God everyone! I am God, I am the Messiah ok? Here I’ll even write it down, so it makes more sense.” Of course, Jesus does do this, but typical of God he doesn’t do it in the way we would expect. Jesus says, “I am the bread of life”, “I am the way and the truth and the life”, and “I am the vine, you are the branches”. We all keep trying to pin down Jesus, get him to say simply who he is, and he responds in metaphors.

But let me ask you this: when someone asks you who you are, are you really telling them the truth by simply providing your name? How much more difficult then, would it be for God to explain who God is to us? Could we really speak the fullness of God in plain English? I certainly hope not! That would be underwhelming. And this perhaps is why Jesus uses countless metaphors about himself, to try and get us to understand that his divinity is something we have to explore and interact with rather than just “know”. Especially as an English major, I rejoice in the fact that my savior is also a poet.

I also can’t help but think of all the metaphors for Jesus that have come from the saints, like Julian of Norwich calling Jesus our Mother. I personally like to think about God as a parent emperor penguin, and myself as the egg or the baby penguin that sits close to God, absorbing God’s warmth. Maybe that’s weird, but hey Jesus becomes bread for us; I don’t think he minds being a penguin to me sometimes.

At the end of this week, we will be celebrating Jesus laying down his life for us in the greatest act of love that we could ever imagine, and then being raised from the dead. Who is this person who loves you so much? This Holy Week I encourage you to find your own metaphor; how does Jesus present himself to you in your prayer? Is he a blanket, is he a cup of water, is he the candlelight? If you want, write down, “Jesus, you are ____” and then tell him why. Love letters to God are the best.

“Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am. Be still and know. Be Still. Be.”

Still. A word that I struggle with. I have always kept myself busy and many may know, I have a hard time saying no to events. Quite frankly, sometimes I am afraid that I’ll miss out on an amazing experience. Just this past year I went from student teaching, being an RA, campus ministry leader, student, and a senior to practically no schedule at all within 48 hours. This abrupt shift has caused numbness these past few weeks. I have had to learn stillness and realize how it can be good instead of causing anxiety.

My principal this past year at student teaching always encouraged the staff to find God’s grace and share it out at our staff meetings. For me this was easy, I saw God in all my students. They have helped me grow in my faith this past year through their Christ-like behaviors. But these past few weeks there are days I struggle to stop and think of where I encountered God’s grace in this stillness.

In the moments of stillness I am trying to find where God is present and reaching out to me. To be honest with you, my faith life has suffered since moving back home. I don’t have my schedule anymore and I lost a drive to continue my Lenten promises. It’s been a struggle to stay motivated. I do watch Sunday masses and have prayed the rosary with my family, but it just doesn’t feel the same when you feel trapped inside four walls. Even though I have felt unmotivated I am reminding myself to start looking for God’s grace. I have found God through family game nights, dropping off food for my grandparents, weekly zoom sessions with friends, still reaching out to my kindergartners, and realizing that even though my senior year ended abruptly, I am still creating memories with people dear to my heart.

Every day I am learning to embrace the stillness and find God’s grace. God truly is present through this challenging time and is showing me how stillness will help shape me into the person I am supposed to become.

Challenge: I encourage you to take a moment and talk to God about your day. Sure it might seem like everyday is the same as we are quarantined in our houses. But I challenge you to find where God was truly present in your day.

“and as you look at the before around you,
I hope you know this is true:
there are rhythms beyond what is seen
and small places where Light gets through
where hope seems to take forever to find you

hold on
to grace
love
empathy
knowing we are all on this journey
grieving countless versions
of so many similar things. "holding on" takes many different shapes
but it is still "holding on" all the same.”

-Morgan Harper Nichols

I came across this poem 3 days after I arrived home from packing up my Portland life filled with people I love, classes I’m passionate about and a campus that has become my home over the past three years. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I had plans, I had classes to go to and a nursing clinical to attend. I had a birthday to celebrate and memories to make with my friends who are seniors. I had a graduation date I had always envisioned. As I scrolled through the poem on my phone tears were brought to my eyes as I thought of all the things I had lost.

Light is a concept I have always found incredibly powerful. It takes every opportunity to find its way into any place it can reach. It is unapologetic in the way it floods a space daring to strike out into the darkness unafraid to encompass all that it touches. When I’m at UP it is easy for me to see this light, I see it in my friends when they make me laugh and let me cry, I see it late at night in the library when students help each other study and I see it in lively conversations over dinner at the Commons. I especially saw it when friends helped each other pack and drove each other to the airport 3 weeks ago.

Removed from the place where there is no shortage of God’s light, I have found myself stumbling through dark uncertainty that only seems to grow by the day. Although I cannot control a lot of things in my life right now, I can control what I believe in, and I believe in looking for the light. Sometimes the way I experience God’s light may not always be ideal but nonetheless it is still there and can still be held onto in times of darkness. The other day I had my first test of online learning, I woke up stressed and worried but as the morning went on, I received good luck texts from friends in the class. This gesture, while small, still had a big impact on me. So much had changed in the past few weeks but the love and support from my friends was still the same, we were still in this together.

The way we see light in the coming days weeks or even months may be different, but I know it is still there waiting to be found. The power and the love that runs through our community knows no boundaries and is greater than any situation, distance, or even virus so no matter where you are in life, I hope you remember to look for the light.

don’t give up.
not when your hands
shake, & your voice aches,
& your heart is open
more than you can bear.

when your soul is overwhelmed,
& you don’t know the
answers, & it all simply feels,
keep going
keep going.

We need you to keep going;
to fight to befriend the unknown.
Mystery hold all our hope,
& by name,
she’s calling you.

t.r.h

Before reading this reflection, I suggest taking time to read this poem through a few times, and let it sink into your body. Pay attention to the line(s) that stick out and continue to reflect on them as you move forward with your day and week.

I received a print of the above poem from my sister, on her wedding day back in 2018. I’ve always been the emotional one of the siblings and, being the youngest of seven, I have plenty of people to remind me of this status. My sister gave it to me during a time she knew I was struggling to process the changes happening around me, as she was getting married and moving away from the city I had moved to two years prior to be near her again.

Now, the poem hangs in my room here in Portland as a reminder to ‘feel all the feels,’ as my sister calls it. It has been a vital reminder since the day I received it, and it is all the more poignant of one in our present reality. Our souls are being overwhelmed. Each day we wake up and there are tweets to catch up on, posts to like, and articles about COVID-19 to read. Each day, a flood of new information overwhelms us, as we sit at home, in one place all day long. We don’t know the answers. We don’t know how long our lives will look like this, or what our lives will look like after. Will it ever return to what our normal was before? It simply all feels at the moment, but we are called to keep going, keep going. God calls us each day to fight and to befriend the unknown. What kind of paradox is this? Presently, I feel like fighting a lot more than I do befriending, and I suspect I am not the only one. The unknown is scary, and that’s all that seems to be in front of us.

I don’t have perfect advice on how to make this liminal time where we’ve been smacked in the face with fear a little less fearful. I’m scared and it’s okay if you’re scared too; it’s okay to want to fight more than befriend in this time. And yet, in the midst of it all, don’t go numb. Feel all the feels, all the anger, the hurt, the fear. Seek the comfort as well though, and the laughter, the joy, the happy moments; let your body be.

Mary Oliver, a favorite poet of mine, wrote a poem entitled Wild Geese and it contains a line which reads:

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.

Friends, share your despair. Share it with your friends, your family, your Mystery (or God, if you prefer). Know that Mystery holds all our pain and anger, as well as our joy and hope. All the feels are there, all in one, all together. Mystery holds you and is calling you, by name. Listen, respond, remember. Feel all the feels.

Since going online, I have had so much more time on my hands than I know what to do with. This sudden unwarranted freedom and transition to life through a screen has left me falling into my default mode: stress cleaning. Every day my housemates catch me trying to find something to organize, wipe down or unnecessarily relocate. In fact, I ran out of things to clean and was so panicked that I began to clean out my bookmarks on my computer! Pathetic or therapeutic I have yet to determine, but it did result in today’s reflection topic.

As I click on every bookmark to see if it is still relevant to my life, I find am taken to a page with the lyrics of “This Is My Father’s World.” I then realize it is surrounded by other prayer topics I used during my first summer living with the Sister of St. Joseph. I began to reminisce about the good times of college and wish to go back to then. I begin to wish all of this would not have happened and I could somehow collaborate with God in writing the future’s plans so that we could go back to a normal, easier life.

Then I realized I did not even look at the page I just opened, so I went back to see if it was worth salvaging. It was then that my stress-induced inertia was disrupted and I was able to just be with God.

This longing for control was overcome with comfort from God. I constantly forget that I am not the pilot, but a flight-attendant. This is God’s plane, God’s world. Right now the seatbelt sign is on and I just need to take my seat and trust in my pilot.

Later I realized the longing I have for face-to-face interaction is caused by my longing to encounter God. The charism of the Sisters of St. Joseph is to serve and be with the dear neighbor. It is my neighbors who show me God. I long for my neighbors because I long for God.

God is not only in people though, but in nature and within yourself. When I go for my daily run or walk, I choose to look at my surroundings as I would one of my students. I take every step with intention as I would say every sentence with purpose to a friend. Just because seeing God may not be available in a way we are used to does not mean God is not there. This is God’s world for goodness sake! You really think (S)He would just leave it? So today I choose to rest in this hymn and knowing this is God’s plane. Although I am unsure of our final destination, I rest in knowing it will be better than any place I could choose. When I begin to lose focus again, I can look right outside my window and see a new part of God that I would have not otherwise been able to see.

Challenge: Find something that reminds of what may be better times and use it as a source of hope and rest for the remainder of the week.

In this past week, I have really steered into the skid of this online college thing. There have been moments of victory, enjoying Skype/FaceTime/Zoom/WhatsApp dates with friends and family, and there have been moments of panic, where I felt hopeless to the ever-growing To-Do list. You could say that this is a period of growth. These are times of feeling like I might have a handle on things and then overwhelming feelings of the growing pains that come from change.

One of my moments of enjoyment during the past week was watching Hook on Netflix with my housemates. It has probably been about ten years since I have last seen that movie, and wow, what a banger! There are so many parts of the movie that stood out to me, but one part of the movie in particular is as follows:

“I want to you to take care of everyone who’s smaller than you” –Peter Pan
“Okay” –Biggest Lost Boy
“Then who do I look after?” –Smallest Lost Boy
“Neverbugs. The little ones.” –Peter Pan

Maybe I am super sensitive and full of emotions these past few days, but this conversation really hit me. We are called to look after one another. It may seem naïve and innocent, but Peter Pan’s instruction to care for everyone smaller than ourselves is doable. We have hearts full of love to share and compassion to give. We can be kind and gentle to those who are smaller than us.

And if we are being kind to those smaller than us, couldn’t we put in a little effort to be kind to those around us? Jesus commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves. These days it can be really difficult to show love for others when we must stay six feet apart, but I feel hopeful that we will prevail. We are together in this life. Everyone is doing the best that they can with what they have in this moment.

Today, my challenge and reflection are brief for you; watch Hook. Allow yourself to feel like a child! While lots of decisions and aspects of the future are unknown, don’t let those things force you to grow up too soon.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be afraid, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

- Joshua 1:9

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and future.”

- Jeremiah 29:11

This past summer, my world shifted in a very real and very scary way. Any plans I had for what my future might look like were up in the air. I had no control. I had no idea what would happen. I had no idea when it would all end. And there was nothing I could do but live each day and trust that God would carry me through. Now that I’m on “the other side” of this particular situation, I am able to write about it in a calm and reflective manner. But that was not the case this summer. I was doing my best to trust and rely on God, but I still found myself panicking, crying, and asking why. Even though I struggled to trust Him completely and not give in to the panic, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could not make it through this period of my life without Him. I listened to several sermons, every one of them saying something that I needed to hear. I know that God was speaking to me, reminding me to lean into Him, reminding me to trust Him. I knew that even if things were not what I wanted to be in the end, He was working through it all, He was with me through it all, and He had (and still) has a plan for me.

In this unknown time, I think many people are scared and worried about what the future holds. Plans that people had in the near future are either cancelled or up in the air. People have very little control over this situation. As I experienced this summer, times with an unknown outcome and end date are scary. As Christians, we find comfort knowing that God is with us. Joshua 1:9 tells us, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be afraid, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” I think it’s important to remember that we are able to be strong and courageous, we are able to combat our fear because we know that God is with us. He is at work in our lives. He has a plan for us. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and future.” We don’t know what the future holds, but personally, I believe that the plan God has in store for each of us holds a beauty that we can’t even imagine.

I know it can be hard to maintain that hope and continue to trust as things seem to get worse instead of better. One thing I found helpful this summer was journaling. I essentially wrote God a bunch of letters that expressed my fears, my heartache, and my prayers. I had stopped journaling frequently when school started back up in August, but there was a night in February where I couldn’t sleep so I decided to journal and empty my mind of the current anxieties. I ended up writing a page and then got distracted rereading some of the things I had written. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that God answered more than one of my prayers, some of which I had forgotten that I wrote down. Some answers were not what I expected. Some took the shape of yes. Some were more like “be patient, I have something better in store.” (which I did not know that was the answer until life unfolded in a way I hadn’t even thought of). When I look back on my life, where I came from to where I am, I see God’s hand everywhere, and the night that I reread my journal reminded me just how present He is in my life. My invitation to you is to think back on your life. Where do you see God at work? If you’d like to, I encourage you to start writing down your prayers, your anxieties, your hopes. Go back every now and then to reread old journal entries. See how God has been with you the whole way. He is with us. He is working through this. And He has a plan.

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”

-Ephesians 4:31-32

Amid the chaos that is taking place in our world right now, people are afraid. Less than a month ago, UP students were faced with one piece of bad news after the next. Many of us had to make the unfortunate decision to pack up our lives and return to our hometowns, and even after making the move, the bad news continued. Today, the number of coronavirus cases are growing, and people are scared. Our fear is expected because we are human, and humans fear the unknown. We prefer to have a plan. Some of us need to have a plan. I had my planner prepared with the activities, assignments, and events that were going to take place the rest of this school year. But now, I don’t. The uncertainty of the future scares me. I am afraid, and I know that I am not the only one. Humans fear the unknown, and as result, we often let our words and our actions become a representation of our fear. We shout, show frustration, and become unaware that we are letting out our fear. Just the other day I watched a video of a grocery store owner standing outside the entryway of the store communicating with a group of elderly customers who were waiting to do their morning grocery shopping. The owner started talking to the people about the rules in the grocery store, and her voice started to escalate when she brought up social distancing. The owner began yelling at the customers telling them to step further away from each other because they were not adequately practicing social distancing. The video then showed the facial expressions of the customers, and their faces showed shock, fear, and disdain. The angry composure of the owner arose from her fear. She feared uncertainty, and allowed her words to show her fear. As a result, the customers became fearful too.

The reason I chose this example is because we have the power to change the anger and fear that surrounds our community. Paul writes Ephesians 4:31-32 as part of the instructions for living life as a Christian. Paul teaches all followers of Jesus to let go of bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, slander, and malice. Instead, we should open our hearts to kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, just as Christ Jesus forgave us. We have the power to rewrite the current script that we are living in. We can choose to let go of the fear we have about the uncertain future, because we know that God is always with us. The grocery store video I mentioned earlier actually took place in my own community. I could have been at the grocery store at the time it was filmed and could have shown kindness to the customers and the owner. I understand we are living in a time of uncertainty and fear, but if we show compassion to others, maybe, just maybe, they will begin to see our current situation in a new light. At the end of day, acting on our fear does not add anything positive to our lives, and if we choose to love as Jesus loves us, then we can start a chain reaction of peace, kindness, and compassion.

My challenge for you is to reflect on Ephesians 4:31-32 and think about how you can apply these words to your own life. Do you know someone who is afraid? Are you afraid? What can you do to rewrite the script of being afraid and instead showing kindness? Jesus forgave us for our sins without us even being born, that’s how powerful He is! Show God’s love to others through your words and your actions. With the uncertainty that surrounds the world right now, we are called to show love and compassion. We are called to be living representations of Jesus Christ.

“All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.”

-St. Francis of Assisi

My all-time favorite Disney movie is Aladdin. In the movie, Aladdin is standing on the magic carpet, stretching his hand out to Jasmine, and he asks her this simple question; Do you trust me? I have been thinking about this question over and over during this difficult time. I keep hearing God’s voice telling me this question; Do you trust me? Jasmine responds to Aladdin saying, “I’m not sure why, but yes.” That is exactly how I feel when answering God’s question. Why should I say yes to trusting in God when I am sitting at home watching the news tell me that we have the most confirmed cases of COVID-19 in the world? Why should I say yes when there are people losing their jobs, being forced into quarantine in our own homes, and hearing the death toll increase?

I say yes to trusting in God because that is what is going to get us through this difficult time. As much as we want to hang out with friends or even have the simple act of hugging or high-fiving others, we need to trust in God that we are all going to get through this together. Through this dark time, there is still that single candle shining bright, God. I have personally turned more to prayer and reading the Bible to remind myself of the covenants God has given to us. He sent his only son, Jesus Christ, to save us from evil and sin. This weird and unprecedented time is just a reminder that we need to be with the ones we love and know that no evil will defeat us.

Just recently, I had my first confession of the Lenten season with my home parish priest, who was sitting in his Jeep just outside of the church parking lot. I did not think a lot of people were going to show up because they were afraid to leave their house. When we drove up to the church parking lot, there was a long line waiting to talk to our priest. This brightened up my day, and, not going to lie, also made me cry. I was just so grateful that people would leave their house to come talk to our priest; even if it was a car to car interaction. Our priest wanted to be out in his Jeep because that is what God asks of us. To find ways to still provide love and service to those who most need it (while still doing social distancing to protect each other).

These are not easy times for all of us, and the majority of us want to go back to UP to be with one another. To get back to the normal routine of going to class, hanging out with friends, and just walking through the quad seeing people laying in the grass when the sun is out. But right now, we just need to keep answering God’s question; Do you trust me? Even if you are not sure why, just say yes.

In John’s gospel the Spirit is called the “Paraclete,” a difficult word to translate. There is no English translation for the Greek “Paraclete.” Sometimes it is translated as “advocate,” i.e. someone who speaks for another, sometimes as “defender,” i.e. someone who acts on one’s behalf, one’s counselor. But perhaps the closest we can get to the meaning of the word is “the one who spurs runners on in a race.” The Paraclete is like an athlete’s trainer. The Paraclete stands on the side of the track and encourages the runners, “You can do it! Go for it! Go for the gold!” So the Paraclete is the spur who drives us on. What a fascinating word to describe the Spirit! The Spirit is the one who pushes us on. Far from satisfying us, the Spirit is the one who spurs us forward. So, in Mark’s gospel we first hear that the Spirit is at work when we read that “the Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert” (Mk. 1:12). The Spirit’s first appearance is in driving Jesus forward. The Spirit keeps saying, “Go further, go further.” The Spirit does not offer happiness. The Spirit does not offer satisfaction. What the Spirit offers is joy.

From Doing the Truth in Love by Michael Himes, SJ

A while ago, my spiritual director asked who God was to me at the time and I responded by saying that God was currently a challenger in my life. He is doing more than inviting me, He is pushing me to be a better version of myself, to embrace my truths and act on them with courage. Amidst these challenging times, I remembered this passage my spiritual director shared with me all those months ago. It reminds me that the holy spirit is always inviting us to go deeper in relationship with God; so when we feel challenged and tired and hurt we have to remember that He is right there with us, spurring us on. Lately, it’s been super hard to feel motivated to do things. The senior year slump was already hitting me but then to be bombarded with much more pertinent life concerns, I was not in the mood to begin all this screen time with professors. Staying in pajamas all day, eating at random hours, being cooped up in my room, and not being able to visit friends was really starting to take a toll on me. It is way too easy in these circumstances to stay lazy physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Connecting with my community of close friends and mentors, though, reminds me to invite the Holy Spirit into my life.

Through all the craziness that is right now, I have been seeing amazing works of the Spirit: communities getting closer, people reconnecting with loved ones, parents and children finding new ways to bond, people finding compassion for those in different life circumstances. Seeing this reminds me that I do not want to be lazy and need pay attention to the works of God. In the past few days I have realized more and more that the Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways and works through people. I was pulled out of my laziness or lack of motivation when I was reminded of my love for the kiddos at César Chávez, my dedication to the members of my community, the importance of showing grace to myself, or the necessity of good health. In a time when everything seems challenging, inviting the spirit of a challenger can seem backwards. But this prayer of inviting the Holy Spirit into our lives is a challenge of more love, more kindness, more authenticity, and more prayer. What God asks of us never changes even when we feel like our level of laziness is at an all-time high. The Spirit offers true joy and with this current climate bringing to light what’s truly important, I pray to remember to choose the Holy Spirit and not another hour in my warm bed.

This past week and a half have been nothing like anything I could have imagined. Every store has roughly the same look: disheveled, long lines, and no bread or toilet paper to be found. I can somewhat understand the bread, but why does a two-person household need four Costco packs of TP?

Every day since finding out everything was shutting down, I have allowed myself time to process what has happened and the first thing I do is think about toilet paper. Laughing, a parody of Matthew 4:4 begins to play on a loop in my mind: “One cannot live on toilet paper alone.”

When Jesus replied to the Devil’s first temptation in the desert, he said: “It is written…” So, in one of my moments of boredom, I looked up the origin of Jesus’ response. This is what I found:

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” (Deut 8:2-3)

Lent is already hard enough. Adding on the stress and temptation that this pandemic brings makes keeping our lenten challenges that much harder. It is easy to forget why we choose to go against our flesh when we no longer are able to experience some of our favorite things, some of which gave you a sense of purpose and joy. Prior to the email from Fr. Poorman, I knew we would soon be following other universities’ courses of action and I tried to brace myself for what was to come. However, I was still left floundering, trying to find something steady and permanent I could hold onto. I needed something that would not change because of COVID-19.

This impromptu venture into a classic Gospel reading’s origins not only offered me a place of refuge in this time of uncertainty, I got what Diana Salgado would call “God-smacked.” There is no hiding the fact that like is freaking hard, but God will find some way to make sure you know (S)He is still there with you. Believer or not, humans cannot survive on bread and Charmin alone because hope is what will keep us grounded. Pardon my potty talk, but unless you have some holy s___, I suggest spending less time hoarding TP and more time listening for what God is saying. Allow yourself to feel your feelings, no matter what they are, and know that God is walking with you this whole time; and when you come to a point of doubt or misdirection (S)He will find a way to give you a nice hard God-smack of love.

Challenge: Find at least three examples of joy over this next week!

Two years ago, I had the opportunity to be a pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago with 20 other students from the University of Portland. Over the course of 10 days, we walked 150 miles throughout various terrain and met all kinds of people from all around the world. Now, walking that many miles and carrying a big, heavy backpack is prime time for physical pains, so the list of possible ailments is pretty lengthy. The pain that I battled with throughout our journey was knee pain. Starting on our fourth day, the only way that I could keep going was by walking at a tortoise’s pace, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. One of my companions promised to stay with me on that day, she agreed to staying by my side, no matter how long it took for us to get to the next town. I was overwhelmingly grateful to have her company, but all I wanted to do was say sorry. I wanted to cry and repeatedly apologize for ruining her experience and ‘making’ her walk at such a slow pace with me. She looked at me, reminded me that she chose to be by my side, and asked me, “What else could you say instead of ‘sorry’?” Full of emotions and self-inflicted guilt, I had absolutely no idea, and so she finally revealed to me the key: to have a heart of gratitude. Instead of repeatedly saying sorry, I could say thank you.

This revelation was wild to me. How powerful and wonderful to be able to say thank you when feeling sad, instead of saying sorry out of feelings of fear and embarrassment! Disclaimer, this is not me saying that we should never be sorry, quite the opposite. I think that we must maintain the power and integrity of the word sorry and also utilize our appreciation for the things of our lives. This led me to wonder what other words or aspects of my life could that I convert into a thank you?

In prayer, I sometimes fall into a habit of listing off all the people I want to pray for, asking God to do this and that, helping all kinds of people around the world. A false sense of being such a good little prayer warrior grows in my head, until I realize that I am in no position to create a laundry list of petitions for God. It dawned upon me that I could apply my previously described switcheroo of the word sorry and thank you to this tendency I have in prayer. Instead of asking God to do something, I could say thank you for another thing.

So, for example, when I am feeling stressed, I usually ask God to please come and give me peace. But in these moments of stress, as easily as I can ask God to give me peace, I can say thank you for my friends and family who make up my support system. Or when I am complaining to God about the essays that I don’t want to write, I can instead say thank you for my education and great teachers who are shaping my intelligence.

Today for my prayer, I challenge you to write a litany of gratitude. There are certainly things to be stressed about, there are certainly things to ask God’s help on, and there are certainly things in this world that need prayers and fixing. But what are some things that you can be thankful for right now?

Here is a portion of my litany of gratitude:

• Thank you for ability to read and write

• Thank you for my ears, which allow me to hear beautiful music and not so beautiful music

• Thank you for the travel opportunities that I have had, opening my eyes to this world

• Thank you for technology and how it allows me to connect with my loved ones

• Thank you for the sunshine and the rain

• Thank you for the sadness of loss, I am honored to love something so much

• Thank you for the challenges of change, it is a reminder of the strength You have instilled in me.

Sunday morning, I got in three whole hours of much needed Church time with my dear housemate Anna. Clearly, we were both a little desperate to not get back to online schoolwork, but also, I think we just really needed time to sit as we always do on Sunday mornings in the community of Christian fellowship that brings us so much hope and strength. We did a couple of different things to make it a reflective morning, and one of those things was watching a sermon online that her brother’s church posted. The pastor, Jon, chose to preach about Mark 4:35-41, the story of Jesus stilling the storm, in order to show how we need not fear our perceived loss of control so long as we remember that we are in the presence of Jesus, always, and we learn to place our trust in him.

Jon said that living a life of fear and living a life of faith both depend on one thing: focus. The disciples are focused on the waves and the storm, and out of their fear they question God. They ask, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”. This question is so pertinent to these chaotic and frightening times. Our fear during this whole situation causes us to question God, to ask whether or not God cares. When Jesus calms the sea, he says, “Peace! Be still!” and to the disciples he says, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”. Faith, Jesus seems to be saying, is trusting in God. It is realizing that we have so little control but knowing that everything is in God’s hands. After all, Jon said, the disciples are not alone! Jesus is there with them in the boat, sleeping in the face of the storm. Jon emphasized the need to focus on Jesus in these trying times, and not the waves. If we focus on Jesus sleeping on that cushion, and his promise to get us to the other side, then we will not be consumed with anxiety about the storm.

After the sermon I couldn’t help but think, “Yeah, but the disciples were actually with Jesus, and he actually calmed the sea for them. God isn’t stopping the virus as far as I can tell, even though we’ve all asked”. But this type of thinking is not God speaking to me. My reply to myself (or maybe it was God) was the revelation that although it is the Lenten season, Jesus has risen! We are the body of Christ now, we are his hands and feet in this world. Of course Christ is with us, he’s inside each and every one of us. It is now our job to be the presence of Christ in this boat amidst the chaos, and say, “Peace” and “Trust in God’s promise”. When we are Christ for even just one person, we may feel like we are hardly making an impact, but each person’s attempt to remind another of the love and promise of God becomes a miraculous calming of the storm when you put together the entire body of Christ on this Earth.

It’s not easy to allow God to take control, to focus on Jesus and not be fearful of the waves around us. Some of this storm includes incredibly difficult loss. But let us all try to remind ourselves and each other that Jesus has made us a promise: we will get to the other side. I suggest, for meditating on this passage, listening and/or singing “Oceans” by Hillsong. It never gets old.

About a week ago, I threw Lent out the window. Obviously, I can’t physically dispose of a liturgical season by launching it from my second story bedroom window, but I felt like I might as well have done exactly that. About a week ago, I was first informed that the rest of my senior year, the time left with my favorite people in a place I had called home for the past four years, was coming to an abrupt end. I felt a pain in my chest that I could only describe as heartbreak. But that was quickly joined by another feeling: rage. And when I found I couldn’t really blame administration for choosing to do what they felt was safest, I directed my anger to God, almost without hesitation.

I’m not the only one that has slipped on their Lenten promises. Most of my Catholic friends have also laughed about how they did not expect to be giving up as much as they are now giving up this Lent – commencement, time with friends, last classes with professors, a sense of certainty about the future. But when it came to my initial Lenten promises, it wasn’t just that I was slipping because I was in the middle of adjusting to online; it became intentional. I purposefully started doing the opposite of what I said I was going to do this Lent. I knowingly ignored any kind of fasting and refused to pray. What did I have to say to God? Nothing, other than ‘Why would You let this happen?’ It spiraled into the bigger question of suffering. Others are worried about their incomes, the health of their loved ones, their own health. There are greater issues than losing commencement in the traditional sense. I was angry not only on my behalf but on behalf of others. I was confused and I took it out on God.

Then just yesterday, I found myself wanting to ask God for something. I wanted guidance in my discernment process for next year. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. How could I expect God to give me anything when I had purposefully acted out in resentment? I almost stopped myself from praying again when I realized that, in that moment, my anger was accompanied by shame. I was disgusted with the way I had decided to act when I found out I wasn’t getting what I thought I was entitled to have. But that moment was followed by a sudden realization that the shame I felt did not come from God. That God would never keep me at a distance. That God could not place anything between us to keep me from returning after I had pulled away. So, for the first time since I had decided to be angry, I allowed myself to pray.

This morning, after listening to a homily that mentioned Job and his ability to praise God despite having lost everything, I almost felt that shame again. I didn’t lose my family or home. But there is a part of that story that I don’t think Christians discuss enough, when Job finally does question God in frustration. Why did he have to endure such suffering if he had always tried to live the way God was calling him to live? It shows that we are allowed to be frustrated and confused with what is happening in our lives and God’s role in it. What we should try to keep from doing is letting that shame keep us from coming back to God. As angry and ugly as I can get, nothing can stop me from owning up to my actions, turning back to God, and picking up where I left off.

I don't have a challenge for you at the end of this reflection. I am just now stating to pray again. I feel like I'm mending relationship after getting into a fight with a friend. But I want to ask, have you let shame get in the way of your relationship with God? How do you let God back into those spaces you kept shut?

"While it is true that God is a hidden presence, we have only to let nature speak to us about the God who is everywhere."

-Henri Nouwen in "The Genesee Diary"

This past week has been painful and difficult to navigate. In just four days, most of us were told to pack up and head home. Four days was too quick. Too quick to say goodbye to everyone on our lists. Too quick to reminisce all the things that made being a Portland Pilot great. And now, after having tried to squeeze six weeks into four days, I find myself at home with my parents and sisters wishing for just another day back on the Bluff. Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with my family, but right now is the time I had been so excited to spend with my friends.

I am frustrated. Frustrated that I have to take classes online in my parents house, a place I have come to know as a retreat from schoolwork. Frustrated that earlier today, I found out we are not coming back to campus, and that our senior class will not be walking across the stage in Chiles for graduation this year. Frustrated that my best friends are scattered throughout the country, and instead of meeting for dinner like we do every Wednesday night in the Pilot House, we now have to meet on a Zoom call from our respective houses instead.

This supposed "new normal" is not normal, and I have found myself struggling to cope with it these past few days. I have done whatever I can to make home-life less mundane by playing nightly games of Catan or strumming a little on my guitar, but still I feel the need to get away. In order to escape the feeling of being cooped up, I have sought refuge in the out of doors, taking runs when I can. Nothing too long, just a couple of miles along a trail to release some of frustration and energy and get a break from the house.

But in these runs, where I push hard to shake my mind from all the busy things that I mentioned before that are weighing me down, I cannot help but realize how beautiful the sun glistens on the trees and how brilliant the colors are in each of the flowers that are beginning to bloom. They truly are an outward sign that God does exist and that He made the world to be beautiful. They turn my frown to a smile and my run to a prayer.

In this time, it is so easy to reflect on and think only about all of the bad, but there is so much good out there. God has made the Earth wonderful. Please know that I am not saying that you shouldn't be upset over all that has happened. By all means let your feelings out! But remember that God doesn't wish to cause us pain. Remember that God created the Earth and all things for our enjoyment (1Tim 6:17).

In this time, I challenge you to get outside in nature if you can! It can make a world of difference, and most importantly it gives a reason to smile and remember that we have a God who truly loves us and reveals Himself through nature. I know many of you cannot leave your house, but I challenge you to do whatever you can to see the beauty of nature even if it is just from a window or a door. Open it up and hear the beautiful songs of the birds or replenishing rain falling on the grass to bring new life. All of this was created by God for us to enjoy! Know that in this time God has not forgotten us. Rather, God has given us so many signs that love is alive.

Recently I have been thinking a lot about Saints Damien de Veuster and Marianne Cope. In the mid 19^th century the Kingdom of Hawaii was hit by an epidemic of Hansen’s Disease (also known as Leprosy). Fearing the spread of this disease, the Hawaiian government created a leper colony on Molokai’s Kalaupapa Peninsula in an effort to contain the spread. Fr. Damien, a Catholic missionary in Hawaii, volunteered to be their priest, living among them caring for their spiritual and physical wounds. Some years later Mother Marianne brought a group of Franciscan sisters to the Hawaiian islands to help tend to those affected by the disease. This would soon mean taking up the work of Fr. Damien, who was dying from the disease.

When I reflect on Fr. Damien and Mother Marianne I cannot help but think off all those who are working against the COVID-19 pandemic we face today. Saints Damien and Marianne daily put their health at risk to help those who needed help. Daily our healthcare workers put their health at risk in order to combat this epidemic. Our nurses tend to the daily needs of the sick as Mother Marianne and her sisters did. Our chaplains sit with sick in their suffering as Fr. Damien did. Our doctors, our nurses, our chaplains, our researchers are all working to care for the most vulnerable among us, just as Fr. Damien and Mother Marianne did. If I have learned one thing from the COVID-19 pandemic, it is this: we have saints walking among us.

I have two challenges for you today. First, spend some time praying for our healthcare workers. Spend some time with God reflecting on the vital role they are playing fighting on the front lines of this pandemic. Then, offer up a prayer of gratitude, and a prayer for their continued health and safety. Second, if you know someone who is a healthcare worker, thank them for their work and their service to our communities.

“Pandemic” by Lynn Ungar

What if you thought of it as the Jews considered the Sabbath – the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down.

And when your body has become still, reach out your heart. Know that we are all connected in ways that are terrifying and beautiful. (You could hardly deny it now.) That our lives are in one another’s hands. (Surely, that has come clear.) Do not reach out your hands. Reach out your heart. Reach out your words. Reach out all the tendrils of compassion that more, invisibly, where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love – for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, so long as we all shall live.

When I first read this poem, I cried.

I was lying in a hammock in the sun, right at the edge of Portsmouth Park, trying to get a moment outside with fresh air and just some space to think. My uncle had sent it to our massive family group chat – a chat filled with my aunts and uncles, my mom and dad, my brother, many cousins, my grandparents, and random friends that have, at this point, become part of the family. In that moment, while we were scattered all over the place, we were all mourning together.

This is a time of mourning; this is a time of loss. We have all lost something. Maybe for some of us, it was a home, a university, a place where we have built our lives. We all have lost memories and experiences. Maybe for others it was a year that was supposed to be special, a freshman year, a graduation, a new job, or a new move. For some of us, we have even lost people, from the loss of one close to us, or even the loss and separation from community. It is a time for us to mourn, for we have lost. This is okay. Take this time to really feel – to cry, to yell, to write down what you’re feeling, and to be vulnerable with your friends. This is not the situation that any of us had hoped for, but its where we are right now.

And while we take this time for mourning, we must not forget hope. This poem gave me hope in the mourning. Though stretched across the world now, we are all still connected by so many things. Though the world seems to be holding us apart, we are able to come together as a community in so many ways. We are still here, we are still here to show compassion and love, to lend a helping hand, and to fight for one another. We must hold onto each other in this hope, not with our hands, but with our hearts.

During this difficult and sad and even lonely time, I have two challenges for you. First of all, find your hope. Find that thing to hold onto, to anchor you. Allow your hope to center you, to “center down” your soul. And second, share that hope with others, and encourage them to find their hope as well. Talk with your housemates or family, be vulnerable, write letters, call and Facetime, use technology to watch a movie together, or created a shared Spotify playlist. Reach out to your friends and check on them. Pray with them. During this time of chaos and uncertainty, these are the things that matter.

“Suffering has to come because if you look at the cross, He has His head bending down—He wants to kiss you—and He has both hands open wide—He wants to embrace you. Then when you feel miserable inside, look at the cross and you will know what is happening. Suffering, pain, sorrow, humiliation, and feelings of loneliness are nothing but the embrace of Jesus, a sign that you have come so close that He can kiss you”

-Mother Teresa

It is safe to say this this week has been a tumultuous one. In the weirdest sense for me, it feels like it has been 5 years long and yet everything was changing in the matter of minutes. If you are anything like me—and maybe you aren’t—there have been feelings of loss, confusion, fear, and many more that words could never fully encapsulate.

It has seemed to me that there has been a flurry of chaos surrounding me, and I have just been frozen and unsure of what to do. In such moments, I am grounded by this quote above. God loves us so infinitely, in our times of suffering He is so close to us that He waits to kiss our forehead. God would endure the pain of the cross again and again for the chance to embrace each one of us.

This week, in my time of need and uncertainty, all I did was push God away from me. I felt like everything was spinning out of control, and so I might as well spin with it. As the dust begins to settle, I realize that what I should have done was keep my eyes fixed upon the cross. I should have kept my eyes on Jesus, who will always steady me and always stand by me in times of suffering. But, by the grace of God, I have the chance to try again; I have the opportunity to rely on God in these times of change and unrest because He is waiting for me.

Today, I challenge you to spend time with this quote in prayer. I urge you to find a place, wherever you may be right now, and meditate on this quote while sitting near the image of the crucifix. If you have a statue of a cross, that works, or even a picture from Google works! Imagine yourself in the presence of Jesus. Bring all that you are: all of your joys, sufferings, questions, and be who you genuinely are in this time of your life. Wait for Jesus, at the foot of the cross, where He waits to embrace you. What does this feel like to wait for God? Do you unload all your thoughts, feelings, and questions? Do you just sit in the presence of God in silence? Do you allow God to embrace you? What does it feel like?

Thank you for entering this space of prayer with us. Know of my love and prayers for each of you.

Sincerely,

Casey