Countless times, I've planned to write to you once more. And just as many times, I've convinced myself not to.
"There's too much to say. Too much I don't know how to explain. Where do I begin?"
You see, God's been flipping tables on me a lot in the last, well, year and a half. Since January of 2015, there have been so many things that I've been convicted of, moved to change, and then received a very clear message: "stop." And so I have. I've stopped, reassessed, and waited.
Sometimes that waiting gets tiring.
Sometimes I wish that I could have a life like hers, or hers, or his, plugging away at work, just doing the everyday tasks, with no curveballs thrown in.
Sometimes I forget that there's a Divine Plan so much bigger than my own.
About 9 months ago now, I packed up my things and moved to a seminary outside Chicago. I was going to study the Liturgy to become a Liturgist, and I was going to experience this adventure of living as the solitary woman on a campus full of 220 men discerning the priesthood. I settled in and I learned a lot, but it was mostly personal growth. I wrote papers and read encyclicals, yes, but I also prayed, questioned, pleaded, and sought. And I gradually came to realize that I was sent there not to complete 2 years of a master's degree, but instead to complete an accelerated course in listening, trusting, and praying.
That realization was a difficult one. I'd taken a leap of faith in moving, and once more I had to take a leap of faith as I left, rather suddenly, in the middle of the semester, with no credits to my name and no job to head home to. Somehow, as I packed and said my goodbyes to the friends I'd made, I found an abundance of peace in the knowledge that the Lord was leading me to something better than I ever could have planned for myself.
Do I regret going? Not for a second. Do I wish it had happened another way? Not really. Does it seem like a waste?
It's challenging to wrap my mind around the fact that it took such a large change to uproot my convictions of what my "life plan" would look like. It's difficult to acknowledge to myself and those I encounter that yes, I did indeed drop out of grad school. It's humbling to know that the Lord knew such a wake up call would be necessary in order to reach my stubborn heart.
Life hasn't slowed down a bit since I left Chicago last October. I still wonder how God expects me to get it all done. And sometimes, it feels like I'm drowning a little bit. But then I remind myself that if I can move to a strange city with no friends and begin a program at a school with only men, I can probably take on a stressful day at work.
So what am I up to now, Rosa? I'm reading books, writing letters, and KonMari-ing my sock drawer. I'm traveling for weddings and pilgrimages, editing textbooks, and learning how to pay utility bills. I'm working at a parish, learning how to trust God even more through both the minutiae and the ground-shaking changes.
But above all, I'm allowing my heart to grow and shift and change for the next thing that the Lord places in my path, whatever and whenever that may be.