This is weird

Many have asked me how I am doing. I can in all honesty say that I am doing well. I am sleeping well; I am eating well; I am exercising well; I am praying well; I am relating to people well. In all the key aspects of life, I do believe I am doing well.

That being said, I do find myself in an odd, unsettled phase of life. I currently have no home (I am grateful to Fr. Scott for housing me during this transition). I don’t have a job per se (no parish assignment), but I still have plenty to do. I know where I am going, but I can’t go there yet. Most tasks have been completed, but there are still some outstanding. I am eager to be on my way, but sad about what I am leaving behind. It is just a weird time in my life.

It feels weird to be homeless. Jesus told the would-be disciple that “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” (Luke 9:58) What else should a disciple expect than to follow the Master? Yes, I do have place to lay my head, but for now I have no home. It is not a bad feeling, but it does feel weird.

I love being a priest, I love doing priestly things. While I am still praying the Office and celebrating Mass every day, I am not pastoring any people. There is plenty to do, don’t get me wrong. It is amazing how the days go by as I go from one project to the next. None of them is particularly large, but each of them just takes time, and before you know it the day is mostly gone. This is my job right now. It is my job to make sure I am physically, mentally, and spiritually fit. This isn’t bad, it just feels weird.

I could keep going through the list, but all of it sums up with feeling weird. I know that all transitions, what some might call a liminal space, feel in some measure weird. I have made many transitions in life: leaving home for college, entering seminary, several different parish assignments. All transitions feel a little weird.

This one feels particularly weird, though. I may simply be more attentive than I was in my oblivious youth. Then again, this transition is very different from all those that I have been through before. How do I get through it? One day at a time, one step at a time, one task at a time. Whatever it feels like, eventually I will be through this, and on to a new adventure.

Saying Goodbye

The past several days have been filled with many goodbyes. It is a natural consequence of making significant life choices and moving far away. There will be many people I will never see again. For those who I will see again, our time together will be limited and infrequent. I will only have so much leave, and there will be many people I will need to see in that time.

These goodbyes have been emotional. I am not one to show a lot of emotion, so most may not have noticed, but I was taken by the outpouring of affection and just how many people I will miss. When we see these couple of friends in one situation and then those couple of friends in another situation, and so on, it can be hard to get a good sense of just how many people are actively a part of your life. When there is a sendoff, though, and they all come together, it is amazing just how many people there are.

It is never fun saying goodbye, but it is a good thing. It gives honor and respect to the people who have been an important part of our lives. A goodbye closes some aspect or chapter of our lives. Nothing is ever really over, but having some sense of closure makes room for us to move on to what awaits us. We will always carry the past with us, especially the people, but a farewell moves that relationship into a new context.

Is something lost with a goodbye? Yes. The door is closed on what might have been if I had stayed around: the conversations, the adventures, the laughs and the cries, the new friends that might have joined us, and who knows what else.

Saying goodbye also opens the door to many other possibilities: new friends, new adventures, so much that could never be if I don’t say goodbye.

Holding both together is so important. It isn’t turning my back on the people I love; it is opening myself to new people, to new opportunities. I am so grateful for all who have been a part of my life up to this point. I could never turn my back on them. There is so much that I will miss. In some instances, this goodbye will last until the grave.

However, my life still stretches before me, and I am called to something else. I can’t simply stay where I am at with what I already know, as appealing as that is, as much as I would like to. The new adventure awaits just over the horizon.

Aim high!

New Beginnings

Today, 1 July 2022, I woke up to a new beginning. I am now officially on a leave of absence from the Diocese of Grand Rapids to pursue military chaplaincy in the United States Air Force. What will the new life bring?

For now, the new life is bringing a fair amount of study and paperwork. I have several online modules I need to complete before the start of Officer Training School (OTS). There is also other paperwork that needs to be completed over the next couple weeks in order to prepare for OTS. There is some shopping I need to do. Let’s not forget continuing the fitness regimen to make sure I am up to snuff for the military. Last, but certainly not least, I am still a priest. I have committed my life to prayer and the celebration of the Sacraments for the people of God.

As I ponder my current situation, I am grateful to the Lord for calling me. I am grateful to the bishop for blessing me. I am grateful to the people of my former parishes for supporting me. I am grateful to my family and friends. There is a lot I see that I will miss, but there is so much that I am looking forward to. Isn’t this always the way?

When I was in college seminary, the house went on an annual retreat over Spring Break. I do not remember the priest’s name who gave the talk, but the one point that has stuck with me all these years was the need to mourn the loss of options. He gave this advice in the context of celibacy: choosing celibacy closes the door on all other options, and that is a real sacrifice that needs to be faced squarely. When there are competing goods, choosing for one necessarily means choosing against another. This is a real sacrifice.

I am grateful for this wisdom because in choosing military chaplaincy I am also choosing against other things. I will not be as involved in the lives of family and friends. In fact, there are likely some people I will never see again in this life. I will miss out on some great events: the celebration of sacraments, promotions and other life achievements. It is important that I face these sacrifices squarely so that I can give due honor to the people involved, and so I am not blindsided in the future when the emotions come into play.

This is just a reality of life. New beginnings always mean the end of something else, including the end of something good. The hope is there is something better that awaits us around the next corner.