"Real World"

(from 8.12.11)
I'm closing up another chapter of my life; the camp for handicapped children I have been working at for the past 9 weeks is coming to an end. While I have experienced both the trying and the triumphant day, there are a few notable concepts from the summer that I want to mention. The first, one can find great people outside of the UD bubble, even if they are not Catholic. The second, working in an environment outside of your comfort zone can be one of the best experiences of your life. The third, a good number of people in the "Real World" have tattoos; 4/5 of those I came across/in contact with had at least one. I suppose the moral is that UD can't keep me sheltered from everything, nor should it.

21 Questions...or was that 45?

A camper at summer camp, a very inquisitive camper actually, inspired this entry. He is a lovable 8 year old who simply enjoys picking your brain. Not in an annoying way, though, he just wants to know more about this place we live in. If you haven't guessed yet, he asks questions-a lot of questions! Some may seem like they're "personal" or too invasive, but he's not trying to intrude, just wanting to know more. My question: At what age does it become socially unacceptable to inquire about someone's life or events that happen? Why is it considered adorable when a young child asks if your brother is going to die when he gets deployed but had someone older asked the same question they would have been chastised for being crass? Sometimes I wish the innocence of childhood could stick around just a little longer.

"Shake it like a Polaroid Picture"

I was watching t.v. the other night when my brother commented on a commercial; he said the all too common phrase, "Everything must come to an end." At first, I nodded in agreement because it made sense at the time. Upon further reflection, though, I realized that I strongly dislike that phrase! No, everything must not/should not come to an end. Love, marriage, health, happiness. If those things didn't last, where would we be? In a loveless, marriage-less, unhealthy, sad world. That doesn't sound like music to my ears.

Deer Tracks

I won! Today (well, a few days ago) I finally coaxed my little brother into going for a run with me. He whined and tried to say he was too tired and had just run yesterday (first time in two months, might I add) so his legs were soar; it went on like this for a minute. I interjected and said, "Peter, it's only a 20 minute slow run!" I had him; he had not room to wiggle. Off we went. We are fortunate enough to have some dirt trails by our house, which I think are more adventuresome than pavement so I run on those as often as possible. While on them I usually run into more deer than humans which can make for some interesting situations. Nevertheless, I very much enjoyed my slow-paced slosh through the mud. Peter talked the entire time despite saying how out of shape he is! Normally I run in silence, but this time I didn't mind the disruptions. He has started a new chapter in his life as he is attending college in the fall. While running over some deer tracks and listening to his story, it occurred to me just how mature he is. I have to be honest, I worry about him leaving and being on his own simply because he's my baby brother, but it's moments like these that I know he'll keep God close and therefore have a good head on his shoulders. My little guy is going to be fine; I mean what could go wrong at college?!

"Pew for one, Please!"

I went to noon Mass by myself today. Now, I've gone to Mass by myself before at UD and it's never a big deal. You look around, see familiar faces, notice others there by themselves, take a seat, and prepare for Mass. However, this time was different. Sadly, I felt an immense loneliness sitting in the pew having no one within arm's reach on either side. Normally, I have my family with me, a friend, or an acquaintance a few seats down; this time, no one. It was in this moment that I realized just how important a sense of community is when celebrating the Eucharist. "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in their midst," Matthew 18:20 reads. No other time have those words resonated truer.

Fights With the Fax Machine

[from 6.8.11]
More like the copy machine in this case. And no, this will not be a scene straight out of "Office Space" (but, if you don't know what I referenced, please look it up!), however it does involve temper tantrums. I went with my mom to her school in an attempt to subside my boredom and to help her with whatever she needed. Within 15 minutes of our arrival to the teacher workroom there were at least five different teachers who mentioned the broken copy machine on the third floor. "Such an inconvenience!" on cried. "What is this, the third time this week? And it's only Wednesday!" another said as she stomped her foot. It was in fact Wednesday which meant this same teacher needed to make copies of the study guide that would surely compel her students to study and then pass the exam next week with flying colors (too bold of a statement?). Anyway, her predicament: not make the study guide and endure the ridiculing of students claiming tho be unprepared or tackle the task of copying the test. She thought long and hard; it would have to be the latter, to her dismay. Off to the third floor copier of doom she went. How interesting that man, after having made many seemingly complex breakthroughs in technology (robotic "humans", smartphones, smart cars, etc.) still can't manage to make a copier that doesn't gobble your paper. Why can we send man to the moon, retire the space shuttle that carried him there and back safely over a dozen times, and yet not create a simple copier that won't confuse its user?

I carry you

There were a few lines from John's Gospel two Sundays ago that stuck out. When I heard them, my mind leapt back to junior year of high school, creative writing class. We were told to choose a poem no shorter than six lines, memorize it, and recite it to the teacher a week later. Quite frankly, I can't remember the poem I chose, but I do remember a particular poem to be popular among the class: i carry your heart with me by e.e. cummings. Getting back to the gospel, Jn 14:17, 20 "because he remains with you and will be within you,"..."I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you." Hearing those words, I thought of these words:

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a man has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"

What a great sense of security, safety, and warmth in the Lord! I think e.e. cummings had it right-God carries us in His heart always.

Snap!

I went to a different coffee joint a few days ago to unwind. After attempting to gracefully sip my raspberry mocha that was covered with a mountain of whipped cream, I noticed a man about my age as he was exiting the establishment. I first noticed how much I had to raise my eyes just to see his head; he was tall. Dirty blonde hair, skinny, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. As he went to open the door he tried to slyly drop his trash in the can, only to fail miserably and completely miss the hole. It clanged on the floor and I thought he was going to ignore it. To my surprise, though, Mr. Smooth turned and noticed his mishap. It was then that I saw his face. He looked familiar. I racked my brain. Where was this kid from? When had I seen him? UD? No, no one else from this area goes to UD. Where? Then, a few minutes later, after having abandoned the book I had so excitedly gone there to read, I figured it out. With the snap of a finger my brain had solved the puzzle. How does it do it? Keep all that information stored and when you need it, it's able to recall as if you only gained the information yesterday. The brain: "just a bunch of nerve cells," my brother says, but I say, "Amazing!"

Splish-Splash

Rain, rain, go away. I wish I had a make-shif boat to sail away on as I sit in my living room watching my street flood due to the extreme rains. It's actually quite the site to see, my street turned into a canal. It's as if I have my own Venice at my doorstep. I could take my gondola and soak-up a leisurely float down memory lane. (from 5.25.11)

Open Pages

I visited the art museum on Saturday.  There were beautiful impressionist paintings, interesting suits of armour, and eye-twitch inducing "modern art," but there was one painting that really stood out: "Christ and the Virgin in the House of Nazareth" by Francisco Zurbaran. By the time my dad pointed it out to me, I was all too quickly thinking this museum was blending in with the numerous museums we painstakingly walked through in Rome. It was, however, a picture that spoke a thousand words. A young Jesus of about 10 years had pricked his finger on a crown of thorns he was weaving, foreshadowing His later fate, while Mary looked on, quietly letting tears fall down her cheeks. It was a rather beautiful portrayal of what might have been a moment in Christ's home on Earth. I then noted books strewn across the table. My first though was, "Oh, Jesus is reading the Bible. How fitting!" This was only followed with, "But there was no Bible then." This lead me to my lingering question: "Just what did Jesus read?"

 

(Franciso de Zurbarán (Spanish, 1598-1664)

Christ and the Virgin in the House at Nazareth, about 1635-40)

Duck Crossing

I was driving to my library two days ago when I suddenly saw brake lights on the car in front of me. I thought maybe the driver realized we were still in a school zone and needed to slow down, but then he continued to slow, coming to a dead stop. I peered around my steering wheel and found the reason for our pause: two ducks crossing the road! There are numerous duck crossing signs (at least where I live), but I have never actually seen it happening.  I finally witnessed the event of ducks crossing the road unharmed and traveling on their merry way. How great it was that the driver ahead of me decided to stop, enabling me to be a spectator, if only momentarily, of the adventurous lives of ducks.

 (Photo from Duckshow.com)