Late Night Thoughts

I kind of wonder whether I'm rushing through things. By things I mean my childhood, though I guess by pretty much all standard ways of measuring that, it's been long gone in some ways. To and through adulthood, maybe.

How do you graduate, hit your next "adult age milestone" (21 only is good for legality in the States, but it's still a marker), become engaged and start planning a wedding and potentially a cross-country move without feeling the need to hit pause and just sit? That's what's going on with my life changes, in case you're interested. It's not that I don't want these things. It is a relief not to feel "stuck" as I did in my last months of school. It is also nice to know I can order wine with dinner if I want. I am charmed by my fiance every day. But the successive leaps forward in responsibility and expected maturity coupled with the ever-present lack of total confidence doesn't make for the smoothest of transitions.

And then there's the question of identity. I don't want to be only a legal, graduated and engaged young woman. There is more to a person than that: their ambitions and fears, hobbies and sacred secluded time, spiritual reflections, observations, desires, the thoughts that plague the mind, the whispers that swell the heart, the passions that overflow into dedicated work.

I suppose I want to make sure I am living a good and productive life and the best way I can see that is in rolling out layers of dough, stationary papers splashed with red and purple flowers, steadily worked through Rosary beads, inky pens and fluid writing, photography breaks, waking up with the sun, folding shirts pressed with lightly musky cologne, never ceasing reading, taking long walks, composing music... I want to be alone and surrounded. I want to see the world, see the sun rise and set over different backdrops, become so used to flying that I have a bag constantly packed with travel items. I want to learn to make my body be strong and healthy, but to challenge it periodically. I want to challenge my mind too, throw aside books and paper in frustration but go back to the problems with diligence hours later.

Graduation and the Future...

This post is brought to you by a college graduate! Don't worry: I can hardly believe it either.

Yesterday, Sunday the 12th of May, dawned bright and nearly two hours later than the early hour I wanted to get up from a text message from my sister telling me my family would be there in an hour and a half for my graduation. This last weekend had been busy with our craziest days at work, and this last week had been busy with last minute school work and this last bunch of weeks had been busy with travel, flip-flopping emotions and panic over having no idea what I was doing as so much was happening at once. But that morning I woke up calmly, did my makeup and went to buy breakfast as an impromptu mother's day present for my mom when she would arrive. (I also gave a little happy mother's day shout out to the BVM that morning. Obviously the most awesome of all mothers, who is the only one capable of beating my own mom for first place.)

Entering the Hall; my many family members on cell phones; a panorama from my seat;
my friend L found me; S and I adjusting our caps with the rear camera of my phone as a mirror.

A Troubled Heart

In the days following my last post, I forgot about my grandmother. Well, didn't forget so much as stopped letting myself dwell on everything for a while. I really wold only remember most and feel the worst when I was at work. I'm not entirely sure why that was the case, but it probably had to do with being forced to be around people who didn't know what was going on and being unable to escape into my own activity.

During Mass on this Sunday night, however, everything seemed to hit me again. Presented with the Truth, reminded of God's grace and Christ's death and eternity and all of it, I could only wonder how truly merciful God is, if Christ embraced my grandmother in His resurrection, how I could have done anything to affect her eternity. In the midst of the guilt stage of grief (those grief stage things probably hold some validity), I asked myself how I could have done anything to help her salvation, or to make myself feel like I had done all I could for her. Could I ever pray enough? Did I completely fail her by not getting any last rites for her? The readings that day, though fantastic on their own, seemed to make things more difficult.

The angel took me in spirit to a great, high mountain
and showed me the holy city Jerusalem
coming down out of heaven from God.