This weekend I had the profound
opportunity to reflect on this past year. I was able to return to Franciscan
University (my alma mater) for LEAD training. For the week leading up to the
weekend I was looking forward to seeing friends and getting to enjoy being home
on campus once again (not to mention some sun and 60 degree weather). Little
did I realize the Lord was going to use this training weekend to put this past
year into serious perspective, and ultimately give me encouragement for the
future.
At this time last year I was
getting ready to graduate, excited about “going out into the world”, ready, and
unassuming. School started in early September and I dove right into my first
year of teaching. Although nerve-racking, teaching came with only a few
butterflies, but wasn’t long until my lessons and patience failed, and I became
unsure of myself. It's a hard reality to describe, but this year essentially
became a very quiet, introspective, and doubtful year.
In addition to this, in November, a
big change in my family occurred, and I had to grasp its reality, but what
should’ve driven me to madness didn’t. I was blessed with a quiet
assurance, and when others would ask me how I was, I responded with peaceful
acceptance. It was my genuine reaction, but their desire to know how I was
doing made me really question how I was doing—shouldn’t I be sad? Shouldn’t I
be angry? At first I was fearful thinking that this “assurance” wasn’t love,
and rather, it was apathy. But the Lord continued to call me on to quiet
assurance—an assurance that wasn’t proud, or boastful, but rather an assurance that
was courageous, an assurance that knew how to trust the will of the Lord, an
assurance that knew the promises of the Lord as truth.
This year has carried a theme of quiet—quiet
heart, quiet reflection, quiet courage, and quiet service. A silence not
suppressed by a more superior sound, but rather an intentional quiet, a humble
quiet that says, “I will not despair.”
In a special way this year, I’ve
learned that quiet humility is incredibly difficult to figure out, but when you
ask for it, the Lord does not deny the opportunity to learn. As exemplified,
this has been a difficult year…and I’ve noticed that in multiple facets of my
life, when I’ve failed, I’ve stopped to consciously, and sometimes cynically, reflect
on my purpose:
What am I doing?
What’s the point?
What does this role of my life
mean?
What am I putting forth so much
effort and patience for?
Who am I to think that I’m making
any sort of difference?
(and even…) WHO AM I?
A natural reaction, right? These
were questions I had indeed divulged, after all it’s a part of growing, but
this year it was different, every time I presented the Lord with these
uncertainties, he taught me not about myself but rather how to have quiet
confidence in Him. He said, “Have
courage; for my burden is heavy but my yoke is light. Have courage, for
tomorrow will come with a new opportunity to love. Tomorrow has the power to
redeem.”
“Courage
does not always roar, sometimes courage is that quiet voice at the end
of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” –Mary Anne Radmeyer
So this past weekend, I came home
to Franciscan University carrying these experiences within my heart. At the end
of a beautiful weekend of laughter, prayer, and fellowship, I had the
opportunity to spend some time in front of the Blessed Sacrament (my favorite
place on campus). And I was overwhelmed. The Lord placed everything before me
that I have now: This blessed assurance, quiet courage, and a beautiful
marriage, and played before me the exact ways in which my four years at
Franciscan had brought me to that place. What incredible peace overwhelmed me. All the darkness of this year, all the
frustration and sadness…The Lord had been
preparing me all along. That was the purpose! He had been growing my
heart. At that moment I realized it wasn’t about me, it wasn’t about my
competence in the classroom or my ability to be the “perfect” daughter. But
rather, it is all about having quiet confidence in the fact that I am exactly where I need to be. That all
the Lord desires of me is to bring His love and mercy to those I encounter, and
He will do the rest. It is not the external reward that is the prize—the bells
and whistles, arrows and plaques that give praise to our name; it is the quiet
assurance that Our Lord knows the heart of
our work. That our humble service will not go undetected, and he
will not abandon our work. For “God is not unjust so as to forget your work
and the love which you have shown toward His name.” (Hebrews 6:10)
Be not afraid, for if we allow Him,
he will prepare us for the race, and His eternal prize will await us at the finish.
