Getting Everyone in Alignment to Follow the Plan

 There have been many occasions that I believed I was following my life path only to be surprised that things didn't seem to go the way they should have or even could have. Then later, I would feel myself returning to the same location on the journey for a second or third round and this time things went much more smoothly. Could it be that I was pushing things ahead of their schedule or was it that I was not the only variable in the experiment?

Here is example #1: When I left public education in 2011, for the first time in my life I was unemployed with no job on the horizon. A friend invited me to come take a look at the exciting things that were going on at the Nativity schools in San Jose where he was principal. I was overwhelmed by what I saw and you couldn't help but call it exciting; however I was simply in no condition, physically, mentally or, spiritually to take on the challenge. I thanked him, knowing full well that this might be my only opportunity, but I was simply too exhausted from my most recent teaching experience to even consider it. I truly believed I was done with the classroom and was moving on. Fast forward two years in the future and the shoe was on the other foot. I was the one asking for the chance to be a part of the Nativity system. There was definitely some prodding that was involved but in the end the principal agreed and I signed the contract to teach English and Religion. Was the plan for me to be there in 2011 or 2013; whose free will was interceding and disrupting or delaying the plan. Here is a completely different scenario. Around the time that my mom turned 90, we all agreed that it was time to insert a safety net for her and hire a home health care agency. She went along with it for a few weeks but then started sending the aids home early or asking them not to come on their scheduled days. It took a while but Mom finally found an aid that she liked and with whom she built a relationship. But even that wasn't enough to sustain the agreement. Within a few months, we all tired of trying to convince Mom that this was for her good and released ourselves from the contract. Once again, fast forward 18 months and as things with any 90 year old does, things begin to deteriorate and we are once again in a family conversation about home health care aids. This time it works for two reasons; Mom is ready and her favorite health care aid is available. Once again, were we pushing events ahead of their schedule or did Mom have to come to grips with the idea that she really did need help before the relationship could work?

I do believe that God has a plan for my life but I also believe that I have been given free will to circumvent the plan, make a detour and come back around to the plan at a later date, or even completely avoid the plan altogether. There is ample evidence of all of these options at play in my work history. But here is the thing that I have finally come to understand; the plan/my plan is not operating in a vacuum. The plan involves not only my life but also plans for other people's lives. I could only accept the teaching position at Nativity the second time around if and when it was available, meaning someone else's life plan had to include a move away from Nativity. Mom would only agree to home health care assistance if Joyce was available and she could only come to that decision after having met and known Joyce the year before. All of the people involved in a possible scenario are operating in tanden and simultaneously with my own. So on those occasions when I start down a path and I lose sight of it, it may not be my fault; it may be that another main character in the scene has unknowingly changed course.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin's poem about the "slow work of God" has always been one of my favorites. Patient Trust. So now the dilemma for thoughtful humans becomes: are the unpredictable movements of the involved parties part of that slow work or is God as surprised by how and when the plans work out as we are? Whichever is true, I marvel at the complexity of life and our lives in relationship with one another. Unknowingly, we are all totally and completely dependent on each other and on God's plan.  

When the Crossing of Paths Becomes an Intertwining

I am a big believer that people come into your life for a reason. There have been several people that have crossed my path and I have known immediately that they came to me for a purpose. I felt it, knew it, and said it aloud. Sometimes they came to remind me that despite the trials and turmoils that I was enduring, I was lovable because they were living proof of it. And sometimes I have known immediately that they came to teach me something about life - to find joy and delight in it, to lead me in a different direction, or just to show up and stand by my side. But there have also been a few people who have come and left and come again. Our paths for some reason began to resemble an intertwining rather than a crossing. With each meeting or crossing our relationship deepened and each of us grew because of it. I have a friend who I met when we were both first married and having our babies. It was the 70s so we were part of a vegetable coop and a cheese coop and we just seemed to pop up in each other's lives - at the park, at church, and eventually at the same school. I wasn't actually part of her inner circle of friends but we definitely knew each other and one another's kids. 

Life goes on and mothers get jobs and you just slowly lose track of people. Our paths crossed again when my job journey brought us together at the same school. The crossing this time was a deeper connection as now we not only had our families in common but came together to talk primary educational curriculum, reading strategies, and the challenges of Catholic education. We were both thinkers more than feelers and even did some teacher trainings together. There was nothing we loved more than picking each other's brains to find new ways around the challenges in early reading instruction. Our relationship now had a more solid feel to it. But once again my professional journey took us in different directions. She headed towards administration and I wanted only to know more about learning. My path moved me along the trajectory of special education and into public education and back out again with a return to Catholic schools. We would encounter each other now and again and with each meeting we remembered how much we enjoyed one another's company. We came to name our friendship the "pair of old shoes" that are familiar and comfortable. You see them in your closet often enough but you're not sure why you don't wear them more frequently because the minute you put them on, you remember how good they feel. That was how our friendship felt - comfortable and easy. 

But life has a way of moving you away from comfort and ease. Your kids get older and go to high school and college; your parents age and become ill and there doesn't seem to be a way to get back to that old pair of comfortable shoes as often as you'd like to. So the intertwining continued as we moved along on our separate paths, coming together whenever possible and enjoying the feeling whenever we did. But then it seemed that a greater power interceded. My friend found her way into the Spiritual Exercises at Santa Clara University, something I had tried to fit into my summer schedule for several years near the end of my career and it just hadn't worked. It became a "someday thing" on my life's agenda. But all it took was my intertwining friend to say, "Tere, you've got to do this," and I was in. It was Covid and I was living in Florida to be near my parents but all obstacles had been removed with the advent of Zoom meetings. Now this friendship became something far beyond anything either of us could have ever imagined. We talked often and long during my Exercises and at the end of it, God led me back to San Jose and suddenly we found ourselves within walking distance of one another. We meet for coffee and walk the labyrinth, we share the latest book we read or tidbits of conversations with our spiritual guides. These conversations help us to grow in our faith and give us a safe place to ask the questions or just admit how long it has taken us to learn to pray or meditate or contemplate. This acquaintanceship that became a professional mentorship that became a comfortable friendship was now a spiritual companionship. The intertwining of these two lives is something for which I will never stop giving thanks. There is no more crossing of these paths. We are walking side by side, hand in hand, companions on the journey.  

We are Given All That is Needed

Any adolescent's first hearing of the story of Ignatius of Loyola is left feeling with the thought of "I think I'm OK." Ignatius's early years are definitely not the model we would want our middle schoolers to emulate. (Ignatius Biography). He was born into nobility but being the last of thirteen children left limited opportunities. Iñigo brought all of his personality traits to bear on his desire for success. He was driven to be the best and that may have meant finding a female companion (some have called him a womanizer) or leading his fellow soldiers onto the battlefield of a skirmish that no one but him thought was winnable. Ignatius is well-known for his "cannon ball moment." As the story goes it was his desire to go into battle against the French in Pamplona, Spain and things did now go well as many had previously predicted. It was an especially bad day for Ignatius as he was carried off the battlefield with one leg broken and the other severely wounded. The leg was set; perhaps improperly, and healed leaving a bump on his leg. Being extremely vain and whose nobility uniform included tights, this was unacceptable and Ignatius demanded that the leg be broken again, the bump shaved off, and reset. So his recovery was quite long and extensive. Personality traits of young Iñigo from this vignette alone would include determined, proud, vain, glory seeking, and willing to win at all costs. But as we all know, Ignatius's cannon ball moment led to a personal conversion and he was able to take all of these traits and remold them in his desire to serve Jesus.

As Christians, we believe that God-given strengths and traits with which we are born are put in place to serve God. However, as humans, we often have what we think is a better idea of ways we can serve ourselves and God simultaneously with those traits. When born into nobility, it is only natural that Ignatius would have utilized his gifts toward glorifying his rise through the noble ranks. He had a strong belief in himself and that he could be the best at whatever he attempted. There is certainly no ill in being the best but through his conversion, Ignatius was able to see ways to mold those traits away from being self-serving and instead to glorify God. So when we look back at the somewhat selfish traits, Iñigo demonstrated in his youth, we can see how they could also be utilized in service to God. He was born with everything he needed to follow the path from Loyola to Rome. He believed in himself and that even if he went into battle alone, he would be victorious. After completely the writing of the Spiritual Exercises in Manresa, he walked alone to Barcelona and sailed on to the Holy Land and back to Paris to complete his studies. He was charismatic, and easily convinced others to join him in the mission of initiating the Companions of Jesus and beginning the order of the Jesuits. His dedication and devotion shifted from royalty to Jesus and his blessed mother, Mary. It bears noting that the power and personal dedication of this one man is still at work in our world today. Ignatius started an order dedicated to education and there are currently 28 Ignatian colleges and universities in the United States today. HIs mission, the spiritual design and purpose of one man, is still growing.

So when we take time to discern the direction of our life and question the decisions we have made, I hope that we can take a moment to dig deeper and consider the personality traits that have been at work. If we, like young Iñigo, have used our gifts for personal gain in place of giving glory to the gifts themselves, take a moment (hopefully not a cannonball moment) and consider how we and God might be able to work together for the greater good. How might we take the trait of being the best at something and realign it so it serves others? We, too have been given all that we need.

The Power of Place

I ponder the part that place plays in our spiritual development. Does growing up in the woods change who you are and become compared with that same being who is raised in the urban world of a metropolis? Was the role of Loyola as place vital to who Ignatius of Loyola became? Did the rolling hills and mountains that he walked as a boy form him into the man that would become awestruck at the night sky.

I am an avid reader and would agree that there are some books and writers that are so drawn to the power of place that the setting becomes another main character in the story. It is in the interaction between the persons and place that the plot draws its drama. Where the Crawdad Sings or Go Like a River would be sadly lacking in structure and form without the beauty and grandeur of the settings.

I grew up in rural Iowa and there was nothing I liked better than being down in the greenbelt behind our house which we all lovingly called "the ditch." I had no affinity to the life of Iowa, of the town, or even the houses we lived in. When I turned 18 and was ready for college, I was more than ready to leave it behind and the same was true four years later as I left Florida for California. But the Iowa trees and grasses and mud that formed that young girl somehow nurtured her into the woman that would want nothing more than a walk in the woods on a spring day in the Santa Cruz hills.

The Thinning of the Veil

There is a belief among many that there exists places in the world where there is a thinning of the veil - the space between the natural and the spiritual world, or perhaps a liminal space that is set apart between the two. The" spiritual world" may mean different things to each of us. It could be thought of as the afterlife or heaven or just some other place that isn't "here." I have felt it on a few occasions. One of the most memorable was in Assisi, Italy but not in the basilica of either Francis or Clare, and not in the monastery. As I stood at the overlook outside the basilica and took in the vista of the valley below and the mountains in the distance, the words came to me, "This is holy ground." This is Holy Ground. I felt the thinness there, more like a thought brought to life, of this being a place that had somehow been sanctified and that all who walked this ground left with a grace that could be physically experienced as well as spiritually. I looked over at my companion to see if she felt it too. I was gifted with a slight smile and the two of us both somehow knowing this was a time to be still and enter into the space. I can go back to that vision of the Umbrian Valley in an instant and the accompanying feeling of being in the sacred.

On my recent Ignatian pilgrimage, I again felt the thinness of the veil in all the locales you would expect. As the biography of St. Ignatius of Loyola goes, Iñigo converted and dedicated his life to Jesus at the shrine to Mary in Montserrat and eventually wrote the Spiritual Exercises in Manresa. Each of these three locations, Loyola, Montserrat, and Manresa held incredible gifts for me as the veil lifted. In Loyola, I was fascinated being in the family home and gazing out the window where Ignatius contemplated the stars and the universe, sitting in the kitchen and wondering what was for dinner, and praying beneath the crucifix that he passed by without a moment's notice each day of his young life. But I more strongly felt the lifting of the veil as we walked into town and entered the Shrine of our Lady of Olatz where Ignatius regularly prayed to the Blessed Mother. The bucolic scene of the sloping hillsides covered by grazing sheep on one side of the four-lane street and vineyards on the other drew me in, experiencing the beauty that the Loyola community was a part of in the 1500s and suddenly I felt transported. I took photos so that I could forever remember the deep green of the inclines and relive the feeling of the nearness to God. The encounters in Montserrat and Manresa were similar but once again I didn't experience these holy ground moments inside the shrines, abbey, or basilicas. It was the natural world that called to me. The view of the mountains of Montserrat are of such incredible strength and beauty that your first thought can only be of the grandeur of God. The veil lifts and you listen for the call. It is no wonder that it was in this place, that Ignatius placed his sword at the feet of Mary and dedicated his life to her Son. As predictable as it is to say that I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit in the cave at Manresa, that is exactly what happened. Today the cave has no similarity in appearance to what it was when Ignatius frequented it, but nonetheless, I couldn't get enough of it. I was drawn to it each morning upon rising and at any spare moment I could carve out of our scheduled excursions. It was like a magnet pulling me back in to feel again and again the thinness of the veil. This, this is holy ground. It was for Ignatius 500 years ago and it always will be for any who enters into the space with an open mind and heart.

These places of thinness offer themselves to us as a place to think about the world and our place in it differently. We are given the invitation to come and pray, come and feel the presence of God, or just come and experience whatever it has to offer. The stories of these places feed our spirits and if only for a moment we put ourselves in the footsteps of Francis or Ignatius and consider a different way, a quieter way to be in the world.

Freedom

 The Spiritual Exercises written by St. Ignatius of Loyola profess that freedom comes from releasing our hold on possessions, people, and ideas. As we gradually learn to let go, our ego shrinks, taking its place in the background, and we come to understand a little more of what is to love God with our whole selves. I learned many years ago, the value of letting go of possessions and am well known among my circle of friends and family as being a bit of a minimalist. It is a skill that certainly made my cross country moves easier.  I have held on to the essentials and the "just in case" extra dishes and glassware but there are many things I only own two of - one to use now and one for the laundry. When I travel I like to make a game of only taking what I think I will need. I come home especially pleased if I wore everything I packed and there were no extras or unnecessary weight that went to and from my destination.  But I learned a valuable lesson recently on my pilgrimage to the Camino Ignaciano when a fellow pilgrim arrived with only her carryon luggage in tow.  Any frequent traveler has experienced this feeling of unwelcome lightness and it is always a little disturbing.  You walk about knowing that something is missing and as if your feet are no longer in touch with the ground.  But you remind yourself that mistakes happen, you've been through this before, and your luggage will eventually catch up with you.  

The word of Kelly's missing luggage was disseminated through our group's What's App texts long before we ever met its owner.  Her husband walked into the first group meeting introducing himself and assuring us that Kelly would also soon be in attendance.  As she entered the room, I was struck by her calm demeanor.  She gently took a seat and joked lightly about her lack of luggage.  In the days that followed I would never see her without that same serene smile.  

The itinerary of the pilgrimage was arranged so that we would have 2-3 nights in each location so we were all fairly certain that the missing suitcase would appear before leaving Azpeitia, the home town of Ignatius of Loyola.  Kelly worked with our host at the retreat center to speak with the travel agent and airport representatives to locate the wayward luggage.  No luck.  So off we went to Javier and still there was no sign of it.  All the while Kelly appeared each looking fresh and clean with that smile and often the white shirt we met her in on Day 1.  Now and then she and her husband would peel off from our group travels to locate a grocery store and emerge with a new shirt, a pair of shower shoes or other necessity.  They purchased only what was needed.  Every few days I would ask about the progress of finding her suitcase; she always responded with a voice that could only be called calm and placid.  There was never a hint of frustration or irritability.  I was amazed and the entire entourage all began to learn the lesson of true freedom through her.  Kelly had everything she needed: her loving husband by her side, she was part of a long awaited pilgrimage to follow in the footsteps of St. Ignatius, and was deeply loved and in love with God.  She could live the rest of her life without whatever was in that suitcase.  She had proved that over the last 12 days.

There was word of the lost luggage in Monserrat, again in Manresa, and yet again in Barcelona, the point of their return flight to Cleveland.  We joked that she could just recheck it on her homebound flight. But, incredible as it may seem, she left Spain with only her carryon and few shopping bags she had collected along the journey.  And it wasn't until a week later that she and her suitcase were reunited.  

I am grateful to have learned the importance of staying in the present moment on this pilgrimage.  Kelly's suitcase reminded me again that everything you need will be provided.  

Praying with the Monks

The bells rang slowly and I immediately fell into step with their rhythm but then I suddenly became aware of their low tones. It seemed that I could almost feel them more than hear them. They had the same resonance of my heart beat or maybe my breath, not the typical higher piercing pitches that call us to Sunday mass. I took a moment to breathe in the cool air of Montserrat and turned the corner entering the Abby. Last night we had prayed at the shrine of the Virgin of Montserrat. I knew it wasn't possible for anything to top that this morning. But I also wasn't going to miss an opportunity to be a part of the morning prayers with the Benedictine Monks. Surely, this was a once in a lifetime event. The few worshipers that began the trek alongside of me at the sound of the first bell slowly increased until as I reached the door I was one of many. 7:30 AM is definitely a favorite time of day for me but it's rare to be a part of a large group at that hour. I found my way to a seat in the first few rows and quickly lost any semblance of time or place. As the monks began walking into the worship space, my focus was entirely on each man. Some walked in alone, some in pairs, and some took a moment to be with the Virgin of Monserrat before coming down the stairs to pray. This is definitely not like videos I had seen with the Benedictines marching in single file and pealing off like a marching band to take their places in unison. So as each walked in, I put myself in his presence and thanked him for his lifelong dedication to prayer and chanting.

The prayer service began and I went back to my early days of converting to Catholicism as I looked for signs in the crowd as to when to sit and stand. No matter how focused you are, the novices are always a half beat behind the regulars and I could feel the dissonance in my missteps. The prayers and songs were, of course in Spanish so I was not connecting to the message, only the feeling of being in the presence of God in this new and solemn way. I somehow had the foreknowledge that this was a memory to which I was going to want and need to return. I had no desire to be that tourist filming the Benedictines at prayer but I did discreetly recored a minute or so of the audio. As time went on I became aware of another presence in my close proximity. It was quickly followed by a thought that was mine but from eons ago. At the same time as I felt the being and thought the thought, I recognized it as coming from 8 year old me. As clear as if one of my fellow worshipers had leaned over and whispered in my year, she said, "Can you believe we are here?" It startled me so that I had to confirm with my inner self that it had really happened. Yes, little Tere was here and with me in this place 5,000 miles and many decades away. When would this little pony-tailed girl growing up in rural Council Bluffs, Iowa in the 60s, and baptized as a Presbyterian ever have heard of the Benedictines? The conversation between us continued with more exclamations of wonder. "We are here, in SPAIN!" I looked to face her dead on and all I could do was smile. Yes, my little one. We have come so far from our childhood of long ago and here we are in Spain, following in the footsteps of St. Ignatius of Loyola and praying with the Benedictines. Who would have ever thought this could be possible? Only God.

Only God could have had a plan that would move a child from Iowa to Florida to California and 60 years later after several decades of teaching in Catholic and public schools find a way to guide her in the ways of the Ignatius and the Jesuits. And then at the end of that career present to her an opportunity to travel to Spain and follow the Camino Ignaciano accompanied by fellow Jesuit teachers and administrators. Only God.