When I was a child, I was fed on a steady diet of only the
best literature. I constantly immersed myself in gallant tales of
swashbuckling, of saving the world, of good versus evil, of magical realms, and
near death-escapes. And because of such, I and my equally imaginative
friends, would disappear into the woods for long hours pretending to be
knights, and wizards, and fairies, and stage epic combat and daring quests and
return just before sundown with mud on our jeans and flower crowns in our hair.
While other kids our age were moving onto nail painting parties and gossiping
about boys-- we were too busy saving the realm from invading goblins.
The
days I spent imagining with my friends are perhaps my fondest memories of
childhood. When picturing my future life, I desired not a boring office job or
a life of dreary rush hour traffic and coupons for milk--- I wanted adventure. I wanted to do something that
mattered. I wanted to be different.
Special. While everyone else filled their heads with, (what seemed to me)
terrible blasé and unambitious goals--- I longed to be set apart. To be a hero.
As a
child I longed not so much for the glory of a battlefield, nor for super powers
that allowed me to perform more daring deeds than any mortal, but I was longing
for purpose. For a higher calling. For the ability to surmount great trials and
even greater odds. I was longing to give my life to the greater good. To
something bigger.
While I
thought I longed for heroic deeds to later be penned down in verse, while I thought
I wanted dangerous quests to be bragged about in time honored tales, what I
really longed for was the adventure that only a life lived with Christ can
provide.
And
indeed, as St. Pope John Paul the Great said before me--- life with Christ is a great adventure.
About a
year ago, before my freshman year of college, I went to visit a group of
religious sisters for a discernment retreat. While I and the other discerners
were there, we came in close contact with the poor and prayed for everyone we
met and talked and talked about practical, needed, and thrilling ways to serve
our fellow men daily on Earth. In short, while there on that brief retreat, I
felt far more purpose and more fulfillment than I had in a very, very long time. My childhood dreams of
doing something important and heroic seemed to come pouring back to me and
finally seemed possible amidst so many other eager disciples of Christ. My
childhood fantasies of emptying myself out to serve a higher cause seemed like
a reality.
Now, as
anyone else who is discerning religious life can probably identify with,
shortly after my returning from that retreat, I experienced a sort of
"Narnia Syndrome" where I felt rather jolted and cheated by the ordinariness of everyday life. I'd
returned from a sort of haven, a community of my fellow warriors of the Kingdom
to the averageness of society where no one else seemed to care for much else
than the daily office grind, taxes, and what's for dinner.
It was
disheartening. And all the fervor and sureness I had accumulated from my
"retreat high" seemed to evaporate before my eyes. Soon, I was on my
way to college, and even the closeness I'd felt with Jesus also seemed to slip away.
Surrounded by classmates who were so much better at doing the "average
college kid" thing than me, I felt thoroughly out of place and even a bit
arrogant, as if the thrum of unremarkable average living was now suddenly below
me.
It was
in February of my freshman year when my spiritual director and friend, a very
sage and holy priest, made a surprise trip up to my college to visit me. I
related my frustration to him over coffee and pancakes and expressed how cheated
and alone I felt, my life suddenly filled with papers and late nights in the
library in an effort to earn a degree that I'm not sure I even wanted anymore. As I related all of this to my
ever-patient confidant, he looked at me and said:
"But
Grace, have you forgotten your purpose?"
I
didn't recall being handed an ancient scroll that laid out a finely detailed
quest along with my admissions packet, so I looked at him, confused.
"Your
name is Grace," he said. "So do what your namesake suggests. It is
your duty as a Christian to win grace for others who may not be able to win it
for themselves. Through your prayer. Through your love. Through your presence
here. Win them grace."
It was
then that a lot clicked into place for me. It was then that I experienced a
resurgence of the purpose I had first tasted on that retreat.
As I
sat in the adoration chapel after my spiritual director had left, I realized
that though we do not necessarily get to pick our crosses, our situation in
life, or even the tasks that are handed to us--- at least we can unite them all,
the good, and the bad, to Christ's higher mission of the salvation of souls.
While I had been wallowing in shallow self-pity
and misery, I could have realized that Christ had not abandoned me, nor had He
taken away my right to do beautiful things out of love for Him. Instead, He had
simply given me new venue in which to enact my faith. Offering Christ my long
hours spent in the library and my simple, daily interactions with my peers may
not be as exciting as leading an army into battle like Joan of Arc, or as
heroic as kissing the homeless like Mother Theresa. But it is necessary. Not
only for the salvation of souls but for the salvation of my soul. By being obedient to Christ's plan for my life, whether it
be my ideal situation or not, by trusting that my presence where He guides me
is necessary, I grow closer to Him and my soul is humbled and gladdened to be a
part of His mystery.
If I
could be another Christ for my brothers and sisters, even just for a moment.
Well.
All of the humdrum living of "ordinary life" would be worth it.
As
Catholic speaker Jimmy Mitchell says " to live your life in any other way
[than for the salvation of souls] will inevitably bore the crap out of you.
Once you realize that this life is really all about the next life, a lot of
things begin fading to grey."
But as
I realized, on that February mid-afternoon, as a Catholic Christian, I have
the ability to partake in Christ's mission even amidst the most ordinary tasks.
It was
then that I realized that Christ has fulfilled my childhood dreams and longings
to be a part of a dangerous, arduous, and glorious adventure. I am like
Cinderella, pulled from ashes of a fireplace but made to dance with a Prince. I
am a lowly peasant who becomes a Knight
of the Realm. I am a trained warrior, serving under the banner of Love. I am a
damsel in need of saving, yet made to marry a King. In my early years, my soul
longed for adventure-- and oh how He provided. He has made all of us heirs to the Kingdom in
the most beautiful way possible. Since I am His, I am everything I need to be.
And
though the work and quests may not always feel so glamorous, there has never
been anything more honorable than doing what He bids and doing it well.
Our God
is generous with us. He has fulfilled all of my deepest desires for meaning.
And my story and life with Him is far from over, whatever quest he has destined
me for next.
I only hope
to bear myself honorably as I, a Knight of the Kingdom to come, charge under
the banner of Love for a King far mightier than I. I only hope to bring Him
glory.
There
are greater things yet to come.
Omnia
Gratia Sunt. Alleluia.
For more information
on winning grace for others, especially through total consecration to Christ
through the Blessed Virgin Mary, click here.
