A little water, a lot of growth

I think it was about a year ago when I went to confession and the priest gave me an analogy. He said that faith is like a little plant: you water it, it grows, you don't water it and it may become stagnant.

I have this plant I got when I moved to Wichita. My sister bought it for me almost nine years ago as an apartment warming present. I named it Elizabeth (the plant I'd gotten the spring before (that was still alive at the time) was named Mr. Darcy). Elizabeth is the only thing I've been able to keep alive - she's been a widow for about 8 years or so. Elizabeth is a pretty resilient plant - she can withstand not being watered for at least two weeks (if not more if I go out of town). Give her a few days and some coffee grounds and she perks right up.

She's been doing pretty well since I moved into my little blue condo - especially after the dark of the U's basement. Today, however, there are a ton of big, crisp, shiny, new leaves all over. Why? Because after a drought there came a little bit of water. Just a little, that's all I poured in last night. But the little brought so much beauty.

Why is it hard to trust that out of the minuscule hope there can come much beauty? Why do think that I need to be the one to bring the water? Why do I resist the dry patches so much? The dry patches stink. Kind of an awful lot actually. But after the dry there always comes much beauty and big crisp shiny newness.

God, help me wait. Help me to lean on you and know that the little bit of water you give me (and it's feeling like a trickle right now) will lead to beauty!!

Lisa on Latte - watch out!

As Keeks is busy being Mommy of two maybe I should take up the hobby of blogging again ;).

Actually, I have been feeling retrospective recently (and as my grandparents got me a cappuccino maker for my birthday and I just tried it out this evening) I feel like blogging.

Things are really good (at least since I drank the semi-cold really yummy tasting goodness) earlier I was a bit bummed. Part of this, I believe, may be due to the fact that I haven't talked to my dearest friends in a while. Keeks and I were really good at remedying this fact for about two weeks. Then came the craziness of the end of school. I will only have my kids for 19 more class days!! This is one of the first years that I am truly attempting to relish this time. Usually if I'm not going, "Get me out of school," I'm thinking, "Get these kids out of my room." Ok, honestly I believe the latter may only be true for one class of sophomores. And I loved them, it's just . . . . This year's sophomores and I, however, have really bonded and I'm going to miss them a ton. It's only slight consolation that they will be in 300 hall next year. God definitely knew what he was doing when he hooked me up with that deal!!

There's one point that just weird me out - talking to a woman named Sister Sophia Grace. This is dumb, I know - she's one of my best friends, one of my Daisy sisters. And yet, in 8 months of her being Sister Sophia Grace I have yet to speak her name to her. For some reason this freaks me out just a little. I've written letters (long mistels of the woes of singledom and crazy dreamings). But the whole talking to her just makes me nervous. I find this even more funny because I've left two messages at the convent for her, calling her SSG (as I fondly refer to her in my head - but I said it all out on the message - now I'm confuesed too! . . .). Really, I'm just pumped that we can finally chat and I don't want to be a ninny calling every other day to see if she's there. I'll have to try again tomorrow . . .

So - the outlook on the 29th year of Lisa? It's looking pretty optimistic at the moment!
Quick overview of the last few years . . .
20th - Ends and beginnings, learnings and failings. From KCKCC to BC with some Indiana in between - ah, the good times they were!!
21st - started off way dramatic and ended in great roommateness who loved swinging. It was when I finally got the hang of the whole "off to college thing."
22nd - Amazing college year -nough said . . .
23rd - Firsts . . . Apartment, job, boyfriend, breakup, living on my own, cat, lots of them ;)
24th - Flowers - The Daisy seeds were planted as my closest Wichita friends became just that!
25th - Beauty - Flowers bloomed as did new romance. And flowers withered as did romance. Life was good and life was treasure. Ah, our moments in the house. On the couch, on the porch, on walks, at SFA, in Emerald ;)
26th - Ah, the baby Daisies promised to come and they did. As did one of my fav. quotes from Hope Floats (I'm sure there's a blog here somewhere).
“Beginnings are usually scary and endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts. You have to remember this when you find yourself at the beginning.” Man, it just fits . . .
27th - What happened in the 27th year? Kimmy went to the convent, there was that whole guy from Eastern KS dealyo, Keeks and Andrew moved across town, Lisa moved out on her own again (can we say yay!) And lots of other people moved away . . . But Jose is coming back - Katie and Kathy, you need to follow suit!! Ooohh! And I started my first novel!!
28th - 28 is definitely some good middle ground - why do I not appreciate it when it's here. Life was good, friends stopped moving around (hint, hint, Andrew!!), life got some good rhythm and rhyme.

So 29 . . . We have yet to see what it may bring. But, as always, as Anne says, tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it . . . yet. I have some good hope for the coming year and I'm looking forward to see what craziness and beginnings and middles it may bring. God, I'd be pretty OK if we left the endings out!! ;)

Homesick

I don’t know where home is. Home is people, not some building with my stuff. This became apparent to me the night I went to sleep in the Daisy House, after a cozy Sunday and I realized that I felt as much at home as I ever had in my parent's house. What a contented feeling! Now I just feel kinda lost, like everyone is far away. Erin called it splintered, I call it wandering. I ache for the feeling of someone on the couch next to me - on "our couch" whoever that "our" turns out to be - that needs me to be there for them, that I need as much as they need me. I feel homeless in a sense of the word that may possibly be worse than those who have no bed to lay their heads. I am so looking forward to next weekend and a feeling of normalcy - but how is what was normal 3 years ago normal when it will never be again.

There's a part in A Separate Peace that I always read aloud to my students. John Knowles says that:

Everyone has a moment in history which belongs particularly to him. It is the moment when his emotions achieve their most powerful sway over him, and afterward when you say to this person "the world today" or "life" or "reality" he will assume that you mean this moment, even if it is fifty years past. The world, through his unleashed emotions, imprinted itself upon him, and he carries the stamp of that passing moment forever.

Just as for Gene Forrester this moment was the war, sometimes that's how I feel about the house. I chide myself for how unhealthy it sounds. But it's so true. It's like I measure everything from that time, as if that was life. As if I was most "me" while we lived in the house. But then what is this now? It sounds way depressing (and at the moment it is) but sometimes it's just true. I just wish I knew how to stop that ache. And I know that I've changed a lot since we lived in the house, and that life was definitely not perfect while being a Daisy girl (as proved in my journal). It's that home feeling, that feeling of being able to be myself, no matter how crazy or quirky or annoying that happened to be, that I miss. A lot.

Have Courage!

The title of my blog reminds me of JPII. It's something he would say to the youth of today. I guess that could apply to my gist as well. One of my Friday night rituals, at least during the fall, is attending the football Mass. Every Friday after school, the football has Mass before the game. And every year those are the Masses that I hate to miss. I love getting to support my "boys" in this way; especially when I get to be an Extraordinary Eucharistic Minsiter. It makes me smile (even when I have to be girly to convince the "macho" senior boys to do the readings!).

FJ's homily today made me smile. He talked about the difference between "males" and "men," making the distinction that males do not need to have courage. Females, in the way that we are built, must have courage; our body demands it. Males, however, do not have the same distinction. Guys have to make a decision to be "men," to stand up for what they believe, to stand for anything at all.

I think this is what makes them so attractive. When I see a guy doing something that takes courage, it is extremely attractive. If they are striving for a goal or stepping out on a limb. It's also what makes me proud of some of my students. When I see them striving for this courage it just gives me a warm feeling inside. In one of my classes today we had a 10 minute conversation on texting. A few of the guys get together on Saturday and just hang out; they aren't allowed to text girls. This lead to the talking about "being" with people and how many have lost the beauty in this. Anyway, back to topic . . .

It feels to me (which doesn't necessarily mean anything) that many guys have lost the desire to be "men." Or not even lost the desire, just put it off until later. The idea that, "I don't need to be a man yet, I can be a guy and hang out and do what I want," seems to be prevalent. It would definitely explain why there are so many amazing single young women out there.

Someday I'll wake up and find that there is a man out there waiting for me, searching for me. I just hope that he doesn't get too lost up in being a guy along his way to me!