Reflections on Being a Knight of the Realm

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.