The old that is strong does not wither

Ten years ago this month, the #1 song on the Billboard Charts was "Promiscuous" by Nelly Furtado featuring Timbaland.

It was really my first time back at Raphael. Although M had brought me over occasionally for retreats and events during the couple years before that and I had chaperoned WYD in 2005, summer 2006 was the beginning of the return.

I was annoyed that an obsequious Korean nun had conned me into directing elementary summer Bible camp. I was internally conflicted and angry. Earlier that year, during Holy Week of 2006, my mother had been diagnosed with colon cancer. It was a scary and stressful time for my family. My sister had just graduated from high school. I was transitioning degree programs from a more academic theology degree to the more pastoral MDiv. But I really didn't know what I was doing with my life.

As Fr. Mark delighted in reminding me, I hated myself but hated others more. So much angst and hardness. And frustration. So much frustration.

It was still the era before I knew the truth. TAMF. And I wouldn't know for sure for another 4-5 years.

It recently dawned on me that all this was ten years ago this month. Being the responsible person that I am (a little self-aggrandizement here haha), I threw myself into Bible camp planning and directing wholeheartedly, or at least tried to. I was trying my best, but at the same time, I was really bitter about it. I didn't know any of the staff very well except for my sister. Thankfully, they were all better people than me. The camp went very well, by the grace of God.

Fr. Mark was also gone that summer, in Korea, and had me do the Gospel reflection in place of the homily during the English Sunday masses since the visiting priest did not speak English. I want to say they were mostly awful reflections. I distinctly remember one Sunday I barely got to mass on time, stamps from the Vegas club the night before still on my hand with my reflection notes scribbled on napkins from Caesar's Palace. (It was the weekend of my college Pi reunion, which was held in Las Vegas. Now, those were some FUN times!)

In my postpartum depression stupor earlier this summer, I had lamented all that I had lost from my pre-married/pre-parenting life. The things I could do, places I could go, yummies I could eat. But as I reflect on that summer ten years ago, I know there is a lot I don't ever want to be/go through/do again.

I don't know why it took me such a long time to renegotiate my relationship with the Raphael community. It all seems so stupid in retrospect. I missed out on so much because of my stupidity. I acted and behaved like a really horrible and ugly person, and I was still blessed. Imagine all that could have been had I been even fractionally more open hearted? It wasn't really until after Fr. Mark left in 2012 that I started acting like a more lovable person at Raphael.

A couple days ago, I went to the funeral of a longtime Raphael community member. He was just a year younger than me. We had been in youth group together way back in the warehouse days. I was probably closer to his older brother, but we saw each other at the gatherings and major life events of our peers. I was really blessed at his funeral. I was just amazed and comforted at the fact that people from way back, 20 years ago, were drawn to attend and pray and be present at his funeral even though they hadn't otherwise been to Raphael in decades. That is the power of the community and a testament to what a wonderful person he is and his family is. And it is an affirmation of how firm our community is, how deeply we are still connected in some way.

All this to say... I am grateful I came back. I am grateful for the people who welcomed me and who had patience with me as I struggled. I am grateful that I was accepted as I was but encouraged to be all that I could be. I'm still working on it.

I always come back to this email from 2004:

Linda,

I hope you are well.  I hope the times find you in the
peaceful embrace of Hope and Faith.  Isn't it such a
paradoxical time for you?  So much shifting certainty
in an endless short period of time.  Though the
mountains may fall and the hills turn to dust the love
of the Lord will never fail.  I believe in you.  I
believe in you.  Whatever you choose, I believe you
will come out with a greater heart.  Isn't that what
it's all about? I've always wondered what was real.
It is a very difficult question to ask.  Answering it
will require even more of yourself.  So many collorary
factors, so much conflicting alliances.  It is the
process which will define us in the end.

Life Interrupted

I have not written much, blog or journal-wise, in a very long time.

That is the 아줌마 life.

Even as I write this, my second child (yes, now there is a #2) is sleeping rather unpeacefully in her crib. Did you know babies can hiccup in their sleep? I just learned that now as I went to check in on the funny noises I heard from her--but no, she is not awake, just hiccupping in her sleep.

It is mind-boggling to me how much my life has changed in a few short years. I am almost a different person. Almost.

The differences are a result of my finitude as a human being. I am limited. I cannot keep track of professional sports teams and players or watch all their games while tracking poopy diapers and meal compositions and the ever-changing taste preferences of a toddler. I cannot go check out every new restaurant or follow emerging chefs in the Los Angeles area while cooking or preparing or shopping for three meals a day for those under my care. I cannot go wherever I want whenever I want without first finding childcare and coordinating with three families and scheduling around bedtimes. My weekends are taken over by in-laws and grandparents. If I have a moment, I pay bills or catch some sleep or clean that thing I've been meaning to get to for weeks. There is not much reading or binge-watching television shows--or any television shows--or spontaneously going to the cinema anymore. Travel? Ha, the last time I was on a plane was in 2013 before our son was born. Between growing family, job changes, and the house purchase, blocking off time to travel has been impossible, or in the least, too much of a hassle.

But there is a lot of toddler silliness. Much wonder at "where did he learn how to do that?" Screaming demands and sweet "Thank you"s. Precious baby smiles and coos and gurgles. Snuggles and bedtime stories. Children's programming on PBS like the ones I used to watch as a kid, cartoons and puppets learning simple moral-of-the-stories. There is not much me time but plenty of we time. And I am blessed with a wonderful partner and a lot of help from family and friends.

The interior life has been a challenge. At least in my new job (relatively new... I've been there for over a year now), I can easily go to mass for staff at noon every day. It is sometimes the only time I pray. Sunday mass is overtaken by attending to the toddler and trying to patiently teach him how to behave in church. And at the moment I am on maternity leave and so don't have access to daily mass at work. Plus I'm in that Korean postpartum house arrest and so am told not to even go outside. I haven't been to mass in nearly 5 weeks. Once I am allowed out, we'll probably have to go into the dreadful crying room for Sunday masses again, because of infant #2. Sigh. And I will have to give up daily mass so I can pump breastmilk at work once I return to work.

Not that mass is requisite for prayer. It helps me a lot, but it is certainly not the only way to pray. I should challenge myself.

I am reading a book of essays collected for the Year of Mercy. Each essay expounds on one of the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. There is one essay on forgiving injuries willingly that I really liked.

There are brief moments when I get to pay attention to the interior life I guess.

Now I must go do laundry for my son. A small task that I can do with great love... if I remember to do so.