Living with Intention

It's getting harder to come up with things to write in my blog posts, and I've been pondering why that is.  I started looking over my posts from September and October to see why I had so much more to share then, and I think I've figured it out: I'm used to living at the Priory.

Life here in Washington seems perfectly normal to me now.  I know how the routine works, I know what is expected of me, I know where the post office and Target and the grocery store are and several different ways to get to each of them.  I have prayer and meal times ingrained in my memory.  I know how to answer the phone, put away the dishes, help without being obtrusive, and when the best nap times are.  I even know a few phrases in Swahili.

Most of all, I am used to living with intention.  Living with intention is a concept I hadn't really heard of before I started to associate with Benedictines.  I had maybe heard it about recycling or being green, like taking short showers or walking to work.  We do those things here: we compost and recycle everything, we conserve water and electricity, we try to carpool or only take a car when necessary, and we try to live in harmony with the natural environment around our home.  But, for this community, living intentionally goes farther than that - we close doors quietly to preserve peace and quiet.  We invite everyone to offer prayers during the petitions at daily mass.  We write thank-you notes for little things.  We use affirming, constructive words.  We carry someone else's dishes from the table and often perform small acts of caring service.  One day, S. Sharon left a pomegranate outside my door.  Last night, I made brownies for Anamaria after her big midterm test.  The sisters know how to make everyone feel loved, included, and valuable to the community, and it both shows and rubs off.

My lesson, or maybe challenge, for myself today is to value the environment I get to live in for only a few more months.  I was talking with Kevin this morning about how much an environment can affect one's whole perspective on life, and I am really blessed to share in this peaceful, loving, affirmative environment.  When I get lonely, I sometimes forget there are people just down the hall who love me and who enjoy and value my company.  But when I remember, I am always rewarded with a sense of belonging and of being in the right place.  I think I resist that because I'm only going to be here for a few more months and it's going to be dreadfully hard to say goodbye to these sisters I love so much - and the closer I get to them, the harder it is to say goodbye.

When Ann Marie was here in December, she asked me, "So you only get close to people you can be with forever?"  My initial response was, "Well, yes, of course.  How can I let myself get close to people who will leave?  Then I'll leave part of myself behind forever."  But as I have had to say goodbye to my family and closest friends for months and even a year at a time, I have found a beautiful reassurance in knowing a part of me lives in them, that I have left a part of myself in the people and places I am closest to.  So I am trying, not always successfully, to allow myself to be as close as I can to all the sisters and to the students I've met through Campus Ministry at St. Martin's.  I know that, after this year, I will always strive to live intentionally to accommodate, serve, and bless the people around me.  I have learned that here, and part of me will always live here with the sisters, in peace and intention.  And I am so glad to have that be part of who I am.

Peace and love.