Buckle up for a verbose debut of this new series. Think of this like the prologue; you’re tempted to skip it, but everything else that follows will make sense if you know what made it happen.
Here we are, Memorial Day weekend 2018. It hit me today that the world (or maybe just my world?) has a tendency to use this weekend for significant events. The holiday carries enough gravitas in its own right, calling us to pause amongst the barbecues and the mattress sales to actually celebrate the holiday and remember our military men and women who have died.
But on a smaller, personal scale, I find this weekend distinguishes itself from other weekends in the most wonderfully random ways. (Fair warning: this only counts starting from 2013).
2013: I just graduated college. I applied to serve on mission in Belize for an entire school year, and I started a temp job for the summer working with many people who had known me since I was a very small strange child. I was also briefly reunited with the beautiful people I had just left because 2 good friends got married that weekend. The wedding was sacred and beautiful, and the shenanigans that ensued afterwards were overflowing with joy and happiness.
2014: Honestly, I don’t remember what happened this specific weekend (though my other blog could probably spill the beans), but I was still in Belize. The end of the school year was fast approaching, and I knew I wasn’t returning for a second year. I also had no idea what would await me once I left, but I had a plan to go to Lourdes even if it was only for 3 weeks. I can distinctly remember soaking in those last few weeks with my students, the other teachers, and especially the volunteer community. I will love them through eternity.
2015: Celebrating any national holiday in DC is an experience I highly recommend. Memorial Day was no exception, and the whole weekend ended up being a 4 day date with my friend and housemate, Cassie. We did everything from free concerts and dance exhibitions at the National Art Gallery, a beer brunch on Saturday, a friend’s party that night, Mass on Sunday, and the big Memorial Day celebration that evening in front of the Capitol. We also took advantage of the opportunity to see the monuments at night, and it’s as enchanting and serene as you’d imagine.
2016: This was my first full year in Syracuse, but I took a break from the Salt City this weekend to see my Joey (the very same from the Belize adventures) profess his first vows as a Franciscan Friar. And though I only banked on seeing him an hour, maybe two, I was able to spend the entire afternoon and evening with him and his family celebrating and eating (of course).
2017: This is where it starts to get interesting, though in a spirit of full disclosure you have to view 2017 and 2018 as two sides of the same coin. Or like the season finale of a show followed by that first episode of the new season that answers all of the questions that have been plaguing you all summer. You see, leading up to Memorial Day weekend, I had put in my notice to leave my job in July, applied for a job I didn’t get, applied for another job that was being offered to me, and registered for and took my certification exam to teach here in Florida. All while doing my actual job, and if you’ve never organized a pilgrimage with Lourdes Volunteers, you can’t truly know what madness ensues the month before a departure. What I didn’t know at the time was that I would get my exam results in the next couple weeks only to find out I didn’t pass. Now many of you may think, “Oh my what a bummer, you can try again!” And yes that is true, you only have to wait a month to retake the exam. However, I don’t fail tests. I don’t retake exams that determine whether I’m employable or not. The only other test I’ve failed was the weighted averages test in my 7th grade math class, and everybody failed that. It was obviously such a rare occurrence that it has stuck with me all these years.
I cried for a good 3 days. It took me 4 days to call the principal and tell him the news. I was crushed, lost, scared to have the offer revoked. I felt aimless. I had been so sure of 2 things: I was supposed to move back to Gainesville, and I was made to be a teacher. Suddenly this golden opportunity for both was in jeopardy, and I was so hurt and confused and angry. So I cried. I ate junk food to console myself. I called Joey to commiserate and comfort me. Then the pragmatism kicked in. I was sure of some things. Like the narrator in the underrated show Pushing Daisies, I walked myself through what I knew. “The facts were these”: I was quitting my job. I was leaving Syracuse. I was going back to Gainesville. I could register to take the test again, or I could move back and get a job as a barista or a spa receptionist where they would hopefully give me discounts on pedicures and massages. As you can guess, I registered again and took it. My results would come in 4-6 weeks.
So I waited. My last day of work came. I packed up my apartment and loaded my worldly possessions into my dad’s van. I moved back to Florida, went on vacation, and met with my principal who was far more certain than I was that I would get a passing result. My every confidence was shattered, and I doubted not only my capabilities but my vocation as well. I was so sure; all the signs were there! But what if I failed a second time?
Finally it was August 1. Pre-planning started August 2, but here I was at 10 pm on August 1, nauseous and terrified as I logged in to check my results. The word “PASS” has never looked more beautiful! That’s when it all felt real. I was nervous and excited to teach, but it was happening! I had no idea what the next 10 months would hold, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was all in God’s perfect plan.
I’m going to fast forward a bit because much of this blog will be reflecting and processing those 10 months. But if you’ve stayed with me this long, you deserve to know the Part II, the conclusion of the Memorial Day reflections 2017-2018.
2018: It’s Saturday morning. My 8th grade students graduated Thursday night, and their Baccalaureate Mass was Friday morning. I know I won’t see many of them ever again or just a long time, if I'm lucky. Some I will see when I visit St. Francis. There may be the select few that stay in touch and visit. But let me tell you, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I came home Thursday night after graduation and cried. Yes I was sad, but I was so consumed by the realization and appreciation for how God takes care of us. A year ago, I was completely lost, drifting with no purpose, teetering on the edge of despair. I look back at how much has happened in one year, and I can’t help but let waves of gratitude and awe wash over me.
I received a few cards from students, and several spoke their final thank you’s and goodbye’s in person. Our valedictorian quoted me, the new teacher, in his speech in front of his whole class and all their families (and yes, that is when I lost it crying). Parents thanked me for what I was teaching their children and how I was teaching them. So I came home Thursday night, and I cried. It sucks to let these kiddos go, and we all know how much I love change and transition (aka not at all), but I was mostly flooded with joy and peace.
We go through life with the expectation of not seeing the fruits of our labors. It’s often true, plus this helps prevent supreme disappointment when we really don’t see our hard work pay off (can I get an Amen, teacher friends??). Well let me tell you, this year, and with this group of kids especially, God has lifted the veil even just a smidge. There has been such an outpouring of grace upon them, and I know it’s only the beginning. As we move into this very last week of school, I also know these graces are still taking root in my soul. Some are easy to identify, and others are more like wildflowers in a garden. You don’t really know what’s growing, but it’s pretty and enhances the whole scene, so you roll with it.
There’s no definitive conclusion to this (hey, I did say it was a prologue), but I do invite you to stay tuned for further installments of my middle school adventures. It’s a wonderfully bizarre experience. And while I am ecstatic for summer, I’m also going into break with great hope for future years to come.
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