As followers of this blog probably know, it took me longer than expected to arrive in Ireland. It was a difficult two weeks, particularly since there was no telling how long I was going to be delayed; it could have taken anywhere from a single day to two months. I waited first on campus at Notre Dame, and then at home, and then from a campground in western Georgia since my family evacuated from Hurricane Dorian, and then from home again. I learned a lesson that I have had to learn many times over the years: I don’t do well with the boredom I find in having to wait, and that boredom can often exacerbate my existing struggles with anxiety and depression.
I thought a lot about whether to write this blog about my period of waiting, because I don’t want to linger too long on something that’s now over. I would much rather look forward to all of the wonderful things that are going to come my way these next two years, or to write about the wonderful things that have already happened in my short time here. However, after some personal reflection, I decided that it’s important to talk about the waiting, because we, as Christians, do a lot of it.
Two crucial liturgical seasons are, after all, dedicated to waiting. We wait for Christ’s birth in Advent and for his Resurrection during Lent. We know that there is a clear, set ending to these seasons, but there is still a kind of breathless anticipation in the air as the candles of the Advent wreath are lit, a question mark that punctuates the covering of the crucifix on Good Friday. I have found deep beauty in these seasons of waiting. While studying abroad, I made a Lenten commitment to go to Reconciliation more often, which gave me a lasting love for the sacrament. During Advent one year I found that I really love using a journaling Bible for prayer. I have cried during midnight masses, vespers, and Stations of the Cross. I have spent much needed time at the Grotto, watching fresh snow fall over the statue of Bernadette.
I approach these seasons so much differently than I approach periods of waiting in my personal life. I intentionally use Lent and Advent as times of growth and fulfillment, while I look at other periods of waiting as hindering my growth and fulfillment. And coming out the other side of this waiting, I am beginning to realize all the moments of beauty that I completely overlooked while I was “stuck” at home.
I received several wonderful emails from friends of the House of Brigid, telling me how many people were praying for me. My aunt, along with her fellow teachers at my old elementary school, prayed the rosary for me the morning before I received my Preclearance letter. I was able to babysit my baby cousin for a whole day and go camping with my family. I got to spend two more weeks with my mom at home before moving out permanently. They were two weeks filled with grace that I was too frustrated to recognize at the time.
When I got to the Dublin Airport and was surprised by Andrew, who was supposed to be in Wexford, I burst into tears. I almost started crying again when I was surprised at home by Clare (also supposed to be in Wexford) and a delicious breakfast made by my new community members. In those first moments in Dublin, I felt the kind of relief that comes after Lent, when the church is full of joyful song and you know that you’ve made it through another season of waiting. A beautiful celebration after a season of waiting, waiting with an unshakeable hope for what comes after.
I want to begin treating periods of waiting with the hope that they deserve. I trust that Advent and Lent will end every year, and that the cycle of the liturgical calendar will continue endlessly. I don’t attend the Stations of the Cross afraid that Jesus will stay in the tomb forever, and I don’t fear that Advent will somehow skip straight into Ordinary Time one year. Why, then, do I assume the absolute worst when confronted with waiting for anything else? My prayer is that in two years, when I’m anticipating the next big chapter in my life, I can have a deep, secure trust that whatever God brings me will be well worth the wait.
