This semester has been a rough one for me. I’ve struggled in literally every aspect of life: physical, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, etc. But this semester I’ve also prided myself with being brave, being strong, fighting tooth and nail through it all. However the more and more I’ve reflected on this semester the more I had to ask myself, “How can I say I was strong when my “strength” only brought about anger, resentment, and a loss of joy?”
Love. It seems today that we’re all obsessed with it. How to get it, how to lose it, what it means, what it doesn’t mean. Yesterday, while I was at mass, God gave me a glimpse of what he intended love to be. As I was going up for communion, I spotted a couple walking up to receive the Eucharist. The husband was blind, and he was being gently guided by his wife up to the altar. She softly gave him directions and held his back and his hand as she guided him to receive Jesus.
I went on a short trip recently to visit some friends. Despite the insane weather, I braved the icepocolypse that hit Dallas. Why’d I risk my life… because these aren’t just any old friends I went to see. These are my friends that I served with on the Missionary Staff at the Pines Catholic camp last year. We don’t get to see each other very often because we live in different parts of the country now, so it was really important for me to see them.