Because (Part 2 of 3)

“But what if my pain is not caused by an evil action?” you may ask.

I wish it wasn’t true, but I know that many of my Dear Readers have struggles that are not caused by their own actions, nor are they caused by anyone else. Everyone has a cross to bear, and everyone has to overcome adversity to become to the person they were made to be.

Thus we return to the question the child asked their parents.

“Why?”

Many of us are dealing with a hardship that we did not cause, nor could we have predicted. We try to live our best lives, and we try to be someone who is worthy of the love of God. We try to fix aspects of our lives that we believe are taking us away from what we truly want. We do everything, but we are still in pain.

And after we have done all we can, we end up staring at the ceiling late at night, asking the same question…

Why?

Let us take another example that is a little removed.

Imagine a boy, a tad older, riding a bike. He has mastered pedaling, and he’s faster than anyone else on the playground. However, he still has training wheels on his bike. One day, his parents walked up, screwdriver in hand, and they said that it is time to take the training wheels off.

The boy is thrilled by the challenge at first. He joyfully watches as his parents remove the screws and take the training wheels away. Then, with unbridled confidence, he gets on the bike and attempts to ride like he used to.

Two seconds later, he crashes.

After numerous attempts, some more successful than others, the boy ends up on the ground in tears. He used to be incredible on the bike. They used to be the best on the playground. Now he is on the ground covered with cuts and bruises.

Why would my parents take my training wheels? he wonders.

If my parents love me, then why would they let me get hurt?

This question is not very different from a question that many of us wonder regularly, myself included. If there is an all-powerful, all-loving God in our world, then why would we suffer? More importantly, if we are living as well as we can, if we are living a holy life, then why would we experience suffering and heartache and failure?

Why do bad things happen to good people?

If you have spent an extended period of time with a young child, you would hear one constant question.

Why?

Children ask why for many reasons. Some are just trying to get something. Some are trying to make something work. Some are simply asking to ask. Regardless of their initial intent, all children ask “why?” for one single purpose: to understand the world around them.

As I wrote last week, we are all children of God with the Blessed Mother as our mother in Heaven. Much like a young child, we constantly ask why. Even if we do not experience spirituality in the traditional sense, there is something in each human being that calls us to understand the world around us.

How do I know this?

Because in science most of us are non-believers, and yet we still ask “why?”

“After everything I had

And after everything I’ve lost

Lord, I know this much is true,

I’m still drawn to You.”

~Drawn to You, Audrey Assad

Now what does a parent often say in response to the incessant why’s of their children? 

At first they will indulge the child with small answers that the child can understand. After a while, the child reaches points that they cannot understand. At this point, the parent will look in to their child’s eyes with a firm yet tender gaze and give the answer that we all hated to receive as children:

“Because.”

My Dear Reader, I cannot give an answer to why suffering exists at all. I cannot explain why good people experience heartache in a way that can bring peace to anyone. I’m not God, nor would I ever want to be. However, I would like to share some insight from our original example, and I will expand upon it next week.

Imagine a little girl who failed to ride her bike without training wheels. She stepped away from the bike in frustration. Then, as she watches the older kids fly by on their training-wheel-free bikes, she decides to try again. She is slightly afraid, but she wants to be able to ride her bike again.

She gets on the bike. Again, she falls….many times. So many times that she starts to wonder why they even tried to ride their bike in the first place.

With tears in her eyes, the girl looks at her parents, just as she did when she fell off the bed years ago.

Just as they did when the little girl fell off the bed, the parents rush to their child. They help her on to the bike, and they hold on to her as she starts to pedal. Even though she is slightly afraid of failing, she knows that she will not get hurt as long as her parents are holding on to her. Then, as she gains confidence, her parents step away.

Why did you leave me? she screams.

Because you can ride your bike! they call back

The girl looks at her feet. She can ride the bike! She can ride, just like she used to. In fact, she is riding even faster than she used to be able to ride. So fast in fact, that she does not know how to stop. 

She does not want to stop.

A faithful life is a lot like riding a bike. When we first come to faith, we are given a sort of training wheels. There is joy everywhere, and we see God in so many things. Our hearts grow in love at a rate we never expected. It seems like nothing can bring us down.

Then there comes a time when our training wheels are taken away. The consolations that brought us to praise are suddenly taken away, and we crash. In an attempt to return to what we once knew, we try to live our faith like we used to. We say the same prayers, we perform the same acts of charity, we attend the same services, we read the same Bible passages.

And all that comes in the silence of God.

“Why?” we ask.

“Because,” the silence says.

How are we supposed to respond? What are we supposed to do when our joy is stolen from us by this exile? My Dear Readers, you have already done this great act. When you were a little child, you cried up to your parents and asked them to help you.

This time, however, you have to ask them to help you do something new.

Just as the little girl needed her parents to teach her how to ride without training wheels, we need to accept that our Heavenly Parents will help us pedal through this new life.

“The aching may remain, but the breaking does not

in the holy, lonesome echo in the silence of God.”

~The Silence of God, Andrew Peterson

Now many of my Dear Readers may be curious as to how this is even possible. Jesus and Mary do not tell us why we are suffering, nor do they seem to be able to explain why we cannot stay in the consolations we loved so much. Unlike the parents watching their child, it seems as if our Heavenly Parents are too far away to help us. After all, if we cannot even hear from God, then how could we possibly ask Him and His Mother to help us?

Just ask Him.

Just ask His Mother.

They may not be able to answer in a way that you can see immediately, but they will send souls who can help you live the life you were called to live. Slowly, almost too slowly for you to notice, other souls will come in to your life and quietly give little answers to the big questions in your heart.

“Not crying out, not shouting,

not making his voice heard in the street.

A bruised reed he shall not break,

and a smoldering wick he shall not quench,

Until he establishes justice on the earth”

~Isaiah 42:2-3

Then, just like the little girl on the bike, you will discover that you can in fact live this new life. Not only that, but it is better than anything you could have ever imagined.

It happened to me.

There was a time when I was perfectly happy in my faith life. It was my defining feature, and it brought great joy to my life. Then I was called to love souls in a new way, and I was called to do so in a place where my faith was not only rejected, but hated. Life suddenly became a battlefield, and my faith simulataneously broke me and strengthened me.

I could not hear my Jesus anymore.

I could only hear Him when I was loving the souls who would rather Jesus never existed. I could only hear Him in prayers for the souls that hated me. I could only hear Him when I was completely alone, cast out for being the person I believed God made me to be.

My heart broke, and I performed numerous Novenas and Devotionals in a desperate attempt to console myself. I had asked Mary to perform miracles for others, but I did not ask her to help me. I had talked to Jesus every day years, but I did not ask Him to save me from my suffering.

Then I gave up trying for Lent.

I just let them love me.

You would think that at that point it all became easier. That was far from the case. In fact, it was in the beginning of Lent up to the very middle that I was told that being a Christian made me a poor scientist and I was told that the Catholic Church would some day become ruins. They said that my entire life as a Catholic Scientist and Hopeful Romantic was a joke. People hated me for being kind to the more degenerate individuals in my life, and I was outcasted for loving them.

It broke me.

However, as this happened, little souls came in to my life and held me as I struggled. They did not do anything big or special. They did not change their lives other than let the scared little girl come in.

They offered up prayers for me in Mass. They talked to me about the love of Jesus. They came, in floods and in waves, just to remind me that I belonged in the life that Jesus gave me. Joseph’s, Mary’s, Simon’s, Peter’s, Martha’s…all beautifully made for love.

And I became stronger than ever before.

Sometimes the silence is not the problem. It is our unwillingness to enter in to the silence that breaks us. However, once we accept that there will be hardships, once we pick up our crosses, Jesus and Mary will help us. They will hold us as we walk, and they will bring other souls to help us through our hardest days.

We just have to ask.

Be not afraid, Jesus and Mary are here to carry you Home.

Why? (Part 1 of 3)

Imagine a small child jumping on the bed. Their parents have told them over and over again to not jump on the bed. Even still, the prospect of bouncing up and down is far too much fun for the child to adhere to their parents’ simple instruction.

“Please stop jumping on the bed!” the parent says again.

“Why?” the child asks.

“You’ll get hurt,” the parent explains how the bed is not a safe place to jump so high. They explain how the child will fall off the bed, and they won’t even be trying to do so.

“I’ll only bounce,” the child tries to negotiate.

Ten minutes later comes a crash, and the child screams. Even though they were “only bouncing,” they bounced too hard and flew off the bed. They are scared, hurt, and worried about what their parents are going to say. If only I didn’t jump on the bed! they think to themselves.

Many of us have experienced this scenario. We all try to prove to our parents, our friends, our peers, our society, that we can do anything without causing problems.

But no one can escape the consequences of their actions.

Even though most of my Dear Readers do not have their parents telling them that they should avoid certain actions, we all receive these sorts of instructions in a different way. We see other people trying to do something, and we watch it all fall apart.

Then we go ahead and try to see if we can accomplish a task. 

Some of us try to go out every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday and tell ourselves that we will feel fine come Sunday afternoon, only to find that the raging headache does not subside.Some of us try to work 80-100 hour work weeks and tell ourselves that we won’t burn out, only to find ourselves breaking down in the middle of a random Thursday morning. Some of us will try to sleep with anyone and tell ourselves that we will find “the one,” only to find ourselves laying alone in bed wondering where our lives have gone.

We all sin, and we all tell ourselves that it will be ok.

Then, like the child who bounced a little too hard on the bed, we fall down and get hurt.

But the story does not end there.

You see, my Dear Reader, the parent never left the child. They were waiting just outside the door for the child to climb off the bed for fear of getting hurt or by crashing to the ground. As soon as the child crashed to the ground, the parent rushed in to the room to pick up the little one and make sure they are ok.

The child can respond in two ways.

The first way is for the child to push their parent away. This is not because they do not love their parents, but it is because they are scared that they have upset their parents. They do not want to break the rules, and they do not want to be punished. “I’m fine!” they’ll scream, even though everyone in the room is well aware that they are not ok.

Most of us are like the first child.

But I’ll get back to that.

The second way is for the child to fall in to their parents’ arms and let them help. Even if they risk being scolded or punished for jumping on the bed, they know that they need their parents. They cannot heal their own boo-boo’s. This child can respond in this way because they trust their parents with their weaknesses.

Why?

Because they know that their parents love them, no matter what.

My Dear Reader, where are you hurting right now? Do you know what lead you to where you are right now? Did you see the scenarios that could have told you what not to do?

Your parents are here, and they love you very much.

You see, my Dear Reader, you have incredible parents who love you more than anything, and all they want is for you to be happy. They know that you will be afraid of many things, and they know that you will take unnecessary risks. They know that you will get hurt. They know that you will sin.

Your Heavenly Father and Mary, His Mother, are here for you Dear Reader.

And they are sad Dear Reader.

They are not hurting because you offended them. They are hurting because they know you are in pain. They know that you are sad, and they empathize with your struggles. They are not sad because you did not listen to them; they are sad because you did not trust that they would take care of you forever.

They know that you will want to push them away for fear of hurting them.

Yet they love you just the same. No. Matter. What.

Let them help you get better. Let them help you fix the broken parts of your life. Let them be there in your suffering, in your struggles, in your pain. Let them love you. It is all they want, just as any parent wants, to love their child and bring a smile to their face.

They love you, no matter what.

What Am I Supposed to Do?

We have no clue what we are supposed to be doing.

Not just the 20 somethings who are trying to identify their career, but also every other person in the world. Even if we have all of the degrees we need, even if we have a good entry level position, even if we have a great leadership position, even if we have all of the tools we think we need to move forward with our lives, we still are worrying over what we are supposed to be doing.

There are many ways to approach this “what am I supposed to do?” question. However, we as a culture have only chosen one mindset.

Does this make me happy?

It is true; when we are doing the work that we were meant to do, we are happier than if we were working on something we did not understand nor care about. We all have passions, and these passions are what inspires others to improve their lives and give back in love. To follow your passions, to participate in your vocation, will in fact bring joy.

However, living under the impression that our calling will make us completely happy can only set us up for failure.

Life is not easy all the time. No purpose is entirely happy, no matter how wonderful the task. After all, how could we possibly know the highs if we never experience the lows?

So then, how are we supposed to know that we are doing what we were made to do?

Look around you.

Everything we do causes an effect on others. I have written many times about how the actions of others has changed my life, for better or for worse. We are a social species, and as such, we are made to associate with one another. We cannot avoid it, nor should we want to.

No one was brought to this Earth for evil. Therefore, if we are doing what we are supposed to be doing, then we will see joy in others.

We can love other people through our work.

Even if it is difficult, even if we are struggling to do what we wish to accomplish, there is always a way to love others through our own specific purpose.

One of the best examples I have for this scenario is my roommate. She is a Liturgical Scholar, meaning that she loves the Mass and all of the Sacraments. She has dedicated her life to studying the meaning of the core of Catholicism so that she can help coordinate Liturgies and help others learn how to worship more fully.

However, this is extremely difficult. She has to write extremely long papers with an arthritic wrist. She has to stay up way past any normal bedtime to read texts that are hundreds of years old. She has to deal with debates over theology that very few are aware of. It is exhausting, painful, and completely unknown to most of the world.

One might wonder why someone would put themselves through such a difficult task. How could there be any joy in it?

Some might go as far as to say “maybe this isn’t worth it.”

I would not say so.

This year my roommate and I were invited to help teach Sacramental Preparation. By the grace of God, I was put in her small group where I could watch her minister to the students. This past weekend we had a retreat about The Eucharist, which is my roommate’s focus.

She spoke with great ease to all of the students on the most difficult concept to grasp in Catholicism: that the bread and wine were truly the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.

And everyone listened. Everyone learned. Everyone was impacted.

Now, one might say that this was because she was doing the “easy” part of her job. They might say that she was able to joyfully act because she was doing what she loved and that she was completely fine and happy. They would say that it was not difficult.

My roommate gave that talk last semester with a blinding migraine.

No one noticed. Everyone was impacted just the same.

Why?

My roommate was doing what she was supposed to be doing. Even though it was difficult, my roommate knew that she was made to help others understand our Faith. Even though it was not something she would particularly wanted to do in pain, my roommate got out of bed, dressed incredibly, and gave to others what no one else could that day. I don’t know if she had a migraine this weekend, but I will say that she continued to do the same great purpose.

I am incredibly blessed to have witnessed these moments.

Dear Readers, we need to look around us when we are discerning what we are supposed to be doing. We need to see how our work, done specifically by us, can help others grow in to who they are meant to be. If we cannot see anyone benefiting from how we are living our lives, then we need to be willing to make a change.

We might not have to drop a career, but maybe we will need to focus on a different aspect of that career.

We might not have to end a relationship entirely, but maybe we will need to evaluate the nature of that relationship.

Ultimately we need to evaluate how we can use our job to help bring joy to others around us. We should be trying to make life easier for others, not for ourselves. That may mean that we put in a little extra work.

However, the effort we put forth in response to the needs of those around us does not feel like effort. It does not feel natural at first, but once you’re the midst of the task, you will discover that you are doing exactly what you were made to do. You will find your purpose at that moment in time.

And that purpose can change.

I remember when this happened for me. It was around this time last year. There were twelve undergrads in the lab, all with great ideas and insanely busy schedules. I had class, TA responsibilities, grants to write, and my own research projects. Everything felt like chaos.

Instead of sticking to my own plans, I started to help the undergrads organize themselves.

Within an instant I gained 12 undergraduate mentees and 80 hour work weeks.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I love my research. People can tell that I am excited to come in to work every day at any time. People also know that I love my undergraduates. Some put it together and realize that I love to research because I love to work alongside my students and I like to solve problems.

You see, I’ve always known that I lack some skills scientists need.

But I’ve always been a caregiver.

I evaluated my standings in academia, and I saw a place where I could easily fall in to place. My students just needed someone who could listen to them and be excited for them. ND kids are all phenomenal scientists; they just need a little direction sometimes. Even though I knew that it would take more effort and more time, I knew that I could help take care of my undergraduates.

They call me mom sometimes.

And I love it.

The hours are longer, and the nights are harder, but I am happier now than I was prior to gaining “The Twelve.” Not because I am a better scientist, not because we publish more papers, but because I get to watch my students’ faces when their work is acknowledged and moves forward. I get to be there in the happy times and in the sad times.

17 hour days are nothing when you are doing what you were made to do.

Do not be afraid to alter your career path towards something new. You already know what you have in your heart; you just need to take the time to figure out where your talents can be utilized. Everyone has a greater purpose that they can tap it in to every single day.

Life is hard, but it doesn’t have to drain you completely.

Work in love, and love will return to you as joy.