Supporting the Cause

I was out tonight helping prepare the church hall for a fundraiser on Saturday. The theme: Italian dinner night. The task: decorate. Sub-tasks: de-decorate from Christmas events, remove some standard images to make room for murals, drape tables, have tape handy, fetch components of table decor, set up the bulletin board, and random tasks as they appeared.

I’m not really one for decorating (organizing – specifically, maximizing space – is more my style, so my eyes lit up when they said something wouldn’t fit in the freezer), but I’m eager to help with whatever tasks I can do well. This includes following instructions and taking directions. This does not include masterminding decorations. I like my decor! However, I’ve discovered that my aesthetic style is quite… unique.

Isn’t that envelope adorable?!

(Aside: Next to the article featuring swimming pigs, I have clippings of tiny pictures of pretty homes from one of those magazines advertising homes for sale, a thank-you note from a friend, and a reminder to do what I must to grow into the person I want to be. I’ve been told pictures of myself is the proper way to decorate my room. This is incredibly strange: I already know what I look like, and in case I forget, I have a mirror; why do I need images of me?)

Thankfully, I wasn’t tasked with figuring out how to set up the hall, just with mimicking how it was set up last year. Whew! I can do that. Remove glittery ribbon until I look like a pixie? Sure thing. Hang that assortment up there like in the picture? Done. Tape this up here? You got it.

Why would I volunteer to do something I’m not very good at? Three reasons: (1) I support the cause, (2) they needed plebians like me to run around doing the things, and (3) I can leverage what I am good at to the advantage of the group. Let’s visit these from the bottom-up.

It turned out quite well. Come check it out in person over dinner on Saturday!

(3) Leveraging My Strengths in a Field of Weakness

Figuring out a master plan for prettifying a room is definitely not my forte. So much so that the only suggestion I made for this event’s decor was listened to, nodded at solemnly, then quickly (though kindly) rejected out of hand. Why? Because I was over-thinking it and providing a logical perspective on an aesthetic inquiry. The considerations I made were irrelevant.

However, I’m excellent at following instructions. When tasks are assigned to me, I do them and do them well. I’m also good at anticipating needs: when I’m waiting on the next assignment, I find miniature quests to complete that benefit others in the duties they are working on.

I’m also good at optimizing efforts. For example, two of us were removing ribbon from the columns. My partner held out a pair of scissors to me, offering to let me trim a wire holding the ribbon in place near the ceiling. She’s about a foot shorter than I am. Accepting the tool, I thanked her and told her I would go around chopping off all of them and double-back to help with the coiling. She was great at coiling, and I could reach the top of the columns without a ladder. Win-win.

(2) Acting the Pleb

One of the volunteers mentioned that there were too many leaders and not enough followers in our group tonight. There seemed to be a hint of frustration in the comment which was quickly followed with an encouraging remark about helping with other events because the other events aren’t nearly as bad. I absolutely understood the was irritation, but I didn’t share it.

Sometimes, I’m good at playing the plebian. I’m especially good at being a follower when I know the leader role doesn’t suit my strengths. (In case you missed the section above, coordinating decorations for an event fits into the not-my-forte category.) One of the other volunteers even mentioned that I was quite the busy bee because I was seeking out projects to complete. I like to do stuff: give me a task, please, so I can be productive.

Just such a thing happened with the bulletin board. I was assigned the bulletin board – which someone later described as the most difficult of the decorating duties. Another volunteer came over to see what I was doing, and together, we had it set up to exacting standards (which were detailed after we thought we were finished) quite quickly. Someone working on another task actually did a double-take because we finished such an obnoxious task so swiftly yet so well. All we did was strategize how to get to the end goal, then pressed onward until the job was complete.

Benvenuto! (Welcome!)

(1) Support the Cause

Certain causes speak to us. This fundraiser is to support a crisis pregnancy center in town, a place where women can go if they are pregnant and need help. Maybe they don’t know what to do, maybe they’re scared, maybe they don’t have the resources to support a child, maybe all of the above. Crisis pregnancy centers care for and support women when they are potentially terrified of the past, present, and future. They save lives – and I’m not just talking about pre-born babies. These centers provide assistance to desperate people who don’t know where else to turn.

Why is this so near to my heart? Because women deserve better than abortion. This isn’t a statement we can throw out into the ether and be done with it: we need to support these women mentally, emotionally, physically, and financially. It takes a village to raise a child. We need to be that village – walls, ceilings, and support beams – for the mothers who can’t turn anywhere else. We should be that village for all mothers, but let’s start with the ones who will accept our outreach.

Our society throws anything with a mild scuff away, or looks at it as though it’s trash – even human life. If we want to change this, we need to show society that we care for human life – in all of its forms – not simply in words, but in actions. Our actions – prayer, providing financial support, giving time to help with chores or babysitting, volunteering for events that benefit these causes – show who we are and what we want society to be.

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Wall art, t-shirts, leather journals, paperback journals, and bumper stickers
(often mis-attributed to Mahatma Gandhi)

I’ve been promoting this event because I strongly believe in supporting mothers through what may very well be the scariest situation they have ever faced. I pressed my parish (nearby) to put up the flyers for the event, I’ve repeatedly mentioned it to friends and new faces alike, and I’m still inviting anyone who will hear me out. We should be supportive of our neighbors regardless of circumstance, but it is imperative that we grant them our assistance when they need it. Our commiunities need us to stand strong with mothers and their children.

If you’re in the Manchester, NH area on Saturday evening, please consider stopping by to support this awesome cause. Spaghetti with meatballs, salad, garlic bread, desserts, and various beverages will be served; there will be raffles, and awesome Italian music, and door prizes. It’s going to be a bunch of fun; come support a great cause and let us do the dishes!

  • When: 5 pm ’til food runs out
  • Where: Saint Joseph Cathedral’s Bishop Bradley Hall, Manchester, NH
  • Price: $8/adult and $4/child with a $25/family max
Rumor has it beer and wine will also be served.

What’s Your Cause?

We all have at least one thing we’re eager to support. Maybe you’re an advocate for tipping hotel staff, or maybe you’re more into protecting free speech rights. Whatever it may be, more power to you. What is your thing? Do you have more than one? How did you discover what your thing was? How do you support your cause?

One Paragraph Challenge

200-300 Words, One Paragraph – Guess the Topic

Three steps, two steps, one step, spin-and-plop. She sighs as she halfheartedly surveys the snow-crusted park sitting on the bench tucked away in the farthest corner from the most frequented areas. It really makes no difference on a day like today; regardless of the clear skies, the biting cold keeps the prudent indoors. Her eyes glaze over as she paws at her fuzzy gloves, considering taking the abrasive things off despite the low temperature. Lips pursing, her gloves suddenly scratch her face, rubbing around her eyes as she tries to force herself to breathe deeply and calmly; the harder she tries, the heavier the weight of each inhale. With her head pulsing, she doesn’t notice the newcomer who gently sits next to her until his hand rubs her shoulder. As his hand slides behind her neck to her other arm, her head falls to his shoulder. He nods, deliberately slowing his respiration, exhaling conspicuously. Almost reluctantly, her breathing paces with his, and her hands fall softly to her lap; he grins, leaning his head against hers and rubbing her upper arm. Again breathing normally, he sits back against the bench, guiding her back with him, silently reminding her to lean on him, silently reminding her she isn’t alone. Wordlessly, they weather the storm passing through this clear winter day the same as any other – together.

What Was That About?

I’m applying for a position that tasked me with writing one paragraph on a certain topic (see if you can guess what it is). The challenge to me is that it’s both only one paragraph and 200-300 words. That, dear reader, is an exceptionally long paragraph in my book. Doable, but way more words than I generally put in a paragraph. (This paragraph, for example is seventy-one words, including this sentence.)

The “challenge” paragraph, in comparison, is 226 words. I tend to write paragraphs under 100 words; shortly after hitting the 100th word, I feel prompted for another indentation. I can write more, for certain, but it seems strange to have such long paragraphs. It seems stranger, still, to cover an entire topic in 200-300 words.

Anyway, I’m posting it here basically because I can, I haven’t posted today yet, and I refuse to break the chain of posts. Additionally, this is way better than anything I can squeeze out in the next few hours; my brain is starting to fuzz over. (It’s also way more kosher to post this than the drafts of thank-you cards I spent the rest of my day on.)

Thoughts?

I’m interested to know what you think of my descriptive take on the topic. I popped the prompt word into a search engine looking for other essays and they were all scholastic-language type stuff. (The shorter ones read as book reports from grade schoolers.) I didn’t feel called to write a book report-style piece. Moreover, the opportunity is for a “creative” role; I’m hopeful that this take will stand out in a good way for being consistent with the position.

Finally, this is also how I think: I was given a one-word prompt. It’s a word that is so close to the heart (probably to many people) that I was tempted to go philosophical on it. I tried; it wasn’t working for me, so I changed tactics. I would much rather describe the scene the word made me picture than philosophize about it. (Hah, that is a word – and it totally fits.)

I hope the hiring team likes it – I really, really do. At the same time, if they’re looking for someone to philosophize… well, it probably isn’t meant to be. As sad as that would make me (I am absolutely stoked about this chance), I’m also learning more and more to trust God: He has a plan, and it’s way better than anything I could come up with myself.

Here’s to hope! Cheers!

Boldly Bear Your Cross

I’ve been searching for work, and I’ve gone on a number of interviews. I have a specific first interview look: from each article of clothing to the way I part my hair, my appearance is the same for every first interview.

This morning, I loaded up my stuff into the car and going through my checklist: matching blazer and bottoms, check; soft blue top, check; dark blue shoes, check; contacts, check; padfolio with resumes and pen, check; spare pen, check; … necklace … where did that treble clef necklace go?

I thought I knew precisely where it was, so I checked. Nope. So I checked the next place. Nope. I furrowed my eyebrows and thought, lifting my right hand to my neck to play with the pendant currently there as I concentrated on where my accessory might have gone, but no other location came to me. And I wasn’t going sans-necklace; it’s the only jewelry I wear, and I feel bare without it.

My thumb rubbed the back of my cross as my forefinger steadied it. I try to get a feel for the people I’m meeting with before wearing anything overtly religious; it’s remarkably easy to put people off these days. At the same time, I was just talking with a friend the other day about how I’m not going to hide my faith at work: I’m not going to preach (which sounds terrifying), but I am going to live my faith. And I’m not about to hide it in an interview, either – I don’t want to end up in a situation where my co-workers are hostile to me having faith – but I’m also not going to poke the bear. It’s a tightrope I’ve learned to navigate.

I shrugged and drove off. Well, that’s that. It’s on them if they’re offended; I suppose it isn’t meant to be.

This thought was frightening, particularly given a conversation I had on Sunday about my inability to find work, but it was also remarkably peaceful. This is the necklace I wear most every day; it holds a lot of symbolism for me. It’s not the conversation starter that my standard one is, but it’s very me.

Accepting whatever was to come my way, I was off.

There are a number of things that I took from this interview, but while I was walking back toward my car after the interview, only one stuck out: I wore my cross and I found my people. We had a lot of similarities: Maine connection, trains, and Church. Not only do we attend the same church, we attend the same Mass time!

Certainly, this would have come into the conversation if I’d been wearing any other pendant, but that I was wearing this one made the revelation all the more striking. The one time I wear my cross necklace is the one time I hit it off with a fellow follower of Christ. Go figure. What a coincidence!

But that’s the thing: it’s not coincidence.

Based on the discussion, we would have probably discovered we attend the same Mass time at the same church. Probably. But my wearing that cross, despite my concerns about causing offense, was a signal to who I am. That signal was a flag to others about who I am, inviting them to engage me in a discussion about that part of me.

I’m still working on allowing people to see aspects of me that I don’t know they’ll like, but I find that I don’t connect with people unless I put myself out there. I can go just a little out there; it doesn’t have to be a mile, but I should try to step a toe length or so. And these are things that I may even like about myself! Perfect example: I sing, but I’m so nervous about singing in front of people because I don’t want anyone to have to tell me to stop mid-song. How awkward that would be for them! And how embarrassing for me. Regardless, if I don’t sing, I won’t know who I can inspire to sing with me.

What do you want to connect with others about but are worried about the response? Have you done anything particularly gutsy lately with respect to putting yourself out there?

Self-Reflection, Assessment, and Course Correction

As I was driving to Mass, cutting it closer than I’m comfortable with, I took a deep breath and said, “God, please help me not distract others as I walk in.” It was bad enough that I was expecting to walk in a minute or two late; I had no intentions of disturbing the people who had arrived on time.

Do traffic lights sense tardiness and turn red on that cue?

And I did: I walked in during the opening prayer, however, I managed to tiptoe quietly enough nobody noticed my late entry. There was a seat on the end of one of the pews in the last row, and my stealth skill is at least at apprentice level. Nobody but me was bothered by my tardiness: score.

After Mass, I ran into a friend who smiled and said he didn’t even notice me at Mass. I nodded and said I was a little late and “didn’t want to be one of those people who distracts others by stomping through” my entry.

Immediately, I furrowed my eyebrows at myself. Well, yes, I suppose that was true, but that wasn’t how I wanted to mean it. Saying it that way wasn’t me – at least, it’s not the me I want to be. I beat myself up about it on the drive back (and have since then). This may not be the best response, but I definitely needed some kind of self-check to help prevent such phrasing in the future.

How often do we check ourselves?

I’m normally precise with my language because I know how we say things impacts both our perception as well as the perceptions of those who hear us. Who am I? That can be a stagnant question; let’s find better questions. Whom do I want to be? What can I do today to get there?

I want to be someone who consistently lifts others up. To do that, I have to know not only what elevates others and what stifles them, but also how to squelch what stifles and live what elevates. This is a process I’ve been working on; sometimes it comes easily whereas other times it’s difficult to even figure out which step to take. And sometimes we have to stumble into the badlands to know there’s no water there, but as soon as we’re there, we correct course.

What I intended to reply after Mass was fine: I stayed in the back to not interrupt the ceremony or the participants. However, the way I communicated the message was not befitting a follower of Christ: I used divisive and pejorative language. In how I sent the message, I turned away from Christ.

Thankfully, we are an Easter people: I am invited to repent and return to the Way every time I go astray. In assessing how to respond in an encouraging (or at least humbler, or less negative) way, I’m turning back to Christ. That’s the first step to the great return: spinning on one’s heel to assess the situation.

I have come quite a way in this journey, as evidenced by my immediate disgust at my diction, but I still have quite a way to go, as evidenced by how my words spilled out. The data from this interaction can help me adjust my pursuit angle to get me where I want to go.

Knowing where we are and where the target is going to be helps us to navigate our way to the target.

Have you ever asked for directions before? In my experience, the process is something like this:

  • I know where I am and where I’m going.
  • I leave my departure site heading toward my destination.
  • I know the route I’m taking and where I’m going.
  • I got off on an unexpected detour, but I still know where I’m going.
  • Where did the signs go?
  • Okay, I have no idea whether I’m even on the detour any more – but I still know my original route and my destination.
  • There are zero landmarks here.
  • Where am I?
  • *Turn on GPS.* Ah! Now I know (approximately) where I am!

The process is the same whether we’re taking a literal road or the road of life: when we stray off the path, we need to assess where we are to figure out how to get back on track. When we’re taking physical roads, it can be obvious when we’re lost; the symptoms may include that the dirt road connecting two highways disappeared over a mile ago. On the road of life, it’s often not as obvious when we’re lost, and sometimes landmarks aren’t as easy to come by, either. This makes regular checking in with our moral and dream compasses that much more imperative.

Have you made time for a pause for self-reflection lately? Where are you in the journey of life? Where are your goals and how do you reach them? Are you going the direction you want to go? If so, what’s the next step toward the destination? If not, how can we get back on track?