I’m writing a lot today. Not sure why, but probably best not to fight it.
The post that I just wrote below, clearly lost its focus about 2 paragraphs in. Began to tell you about my discernment process, but trailed off and started to project onto you (any reader) about my mom.
This past semester I took a class on positive psychology and one of our many assignments was to take Seligman’s VIA (Values in Action) questionnaire of 200+ questions. My top strength was religiousity. No big surprise there at all! Seligman wrote in one version of his book Authentic Happiness that many people find that they really enjoy and define themselves by their first strength, and I’d have to agree that I do the same. He also went on to write that it also proves to be a point of contention and oftentimes gets them into trouble and hassels as well, to which I also agree.
My faith, and the strength of my faith, is fun, I love it, and it also creates a lot of trouble for me; most of this trouble, clearly, is at home.
I am the only practicing Catholic at home. I attend Mass every Sunday, Saturday vigil if I foresee that I will not be able to attend Sunday’s Mass. I am quickly developing devotions to some saints, and of course to our Mother, the Blessed Virgin. I’ve pulled various religious gifts over the years out of hiding and place them on the dresser or on my night table, so everything’s in easy sight or easy reach.
This August, it’ll be two years since I began to believe again; judging by the strength and steadfastness of my faith, “born again” is an apt phrase to use.
Right now, there’s no trouble for me being a Catholic at home. Except when you count the Sundays that I’ve been invited to Recollection and Mom asks where was the Church and it’s name. How do I say that the Mass was held at Opus Dei Center for women in Los Angeles? How do I answer Dad’s yearly lectures on why I would be smart to meet and get engaged to a man while in college, when I have no desire to get married? What do I do when people say that I should be a Sister, or say that I look like a Sister? Honestly, what does a Sister look like anyway? I hope people don’t say that just because I have self-respect and don’t want to become some man’s next near ocassion of sin!
My outlook on my profession is quickly shifting from therapist to Licenced Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). I am alright with that shift. I like how it enables me to further help people — not the rich-needy, but those who are actually in need. Now all that mom tells me over the past few days is that “it’s not pretty work” and “you’re going to see nasty things.” *Really, gee, did not know that* She asked how I planned to handle it, I said I’d be fine. I’m reminded of an email that a friend sent me a while ago and he wrote that of all the people he knew as counselors and social workers, the few that were not burnt out after a few years were Christians. How will I handle it? By the Grace of God. Just like everything else.
Discernment is a process. It’s difficult, I know that; I’ve felt how difficult it can be.
Problem is that I haven’t heard from God in months (Since February, to be truthful).
He takes His time, meanwhile the world goes by and I have to find work and enroll in graduate school.
God, I’m making time for you. I’m making sacrifices for you. I’m talking with you.
When you gonna realize this isn’t a therapy session, decide to reciprocate, and actually offer a clear-cut reply that will help me know what it is that You want for (or, of) me and this life You’ve given me?