Discovering the Gift of Presence

“May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content knowing you are a child of God.

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.”

― St. Thérèse de Lisieux

            When I left Anthony, NM, this was the prayer I took with me. This idea of presence, of being exactly where you are meant to be, is probably one of the greatest gifts I packed up in my heart.

            This past month, I was a part of the AVE (After Volunteer Experience) program. This program is sponsored by the Catholic Volunteer Network and organized by the Sisters of Charity. The aim of AVE is to provide a space for former volunteers to reflect, rest, and serve across the border. After a rather busy and eventful year of teaching and ministry, I needed such a space to reconnect with my inner self and God.

            My journey with AVE commenced in Chicago with a re-entry workshop called, “From Mission to Mission,” with the purpose of reflecting on my service year with other volunteers. (Shameless plug here: For all former volunteers, I HIGHLY recommend attending this workshop. You can look it up at http://www.missiontomission.org/) For those of you who don’t really know me, from August 2014 to June 2015, I was a volunteer for the Jesuit Volunteer Corps/Northwest (JVC/NW). I lived in Billings, Montana and was a Reading and Mathematics Clinician at a Catholic mission school on the Crow Reservation. I am not going to go into detail too much about my experience (If you ever want to know more about my experience, please feel free to ask), but, while at this workshop, I was invited to unpack my 10 months of service. When I ended my contract with JVC/NW, I did not experience much closure. In other words, there wasn’t much time for me to reflect or understand what my experience meant. Rather, I felt my experience, with all of its hurts, joys, and memories, were packed neatly in a box and placed on a shelf. Afterward, I re-entered into my “old” life back in San Diego and that box remained unopened, slowly collecting dust, partially because I was unsure of how to deal with the contents of that box and how to share it with others.

            In the past, when I talked about my experience with others, my story often focused on the pain and hurt I witnessed and felt. I was so focused on the brokenness of my story, that I could not see the light and joy that pushed through the cracks. So here I was at this workshop, surrounded by individuals who longed to return to the place they once lived, and I, quite honestly, did not. I initially felt uncomfortable and perhaps a little ashamed for feeling this way. After several conversations and guided reflections, however, I was better able to better understand my story and even look at it from a different perspective.

            The greatest insight I gained followed a small group activity, where each member of the group had the opportunity to share her entire service experience from start to finish, uninterrupted. After sharing my story, I realized why I did not want to back. It was because I felt uncomfortable with the reality that I couldn’t fix the brokenness and pain that surrounded me. I remember so many days when I would come back to Billings, after a long day at the school, feeling frustrated and powerless. There was so much I wanted to do and, yet, did not have the means, knowledge, ability, or even right to do it. I mean, who was I to come into this new place and decide what needed to be fixed? I didn’t have a teaching credential. I didn’t understand the culture or even the extent of the historical trauma experienced. Additionally, I had my own share of brokenness. With this in mind, I began to feel so uncomfortable and unsure of how to be fully present; therefore, I spent many of my days in frustration and tiredness, trying to find something I could do. I found it difficult to truly connect with the people I had the opportunity to accompany because I felt there was nothing I could do to “help.” Looking back, I realize how many relationships and opportunities for love and joy were missed because I was so focused on trying to find ways to “fix.” I was afraid to sit with the brokenness. I built walls around my heart to protect myself from the hurt and trauma that surrounded me. In doing so, however, I also kept out the joy, love, and connection that can come from being “with” others.

            While I am sad I missed the opportunity to be fully present to the people around me during my JV experience, I now understand why I felt so uncomfortable and how I am called to live my life now. I am not necessarily called to be in the business of “fixing,” but rather invited to immerse myself into the brokenness of life and simply be with and for others. This means admitting we don’t have all the answers, sharing feelings of hurt and frustration, listening wholeheartedly, sitting in silence, offering an embrace, and letting our own hearts be broken by what breaks the heart of God. From that honored and sacred place, real connection, love, and healing can be found because we mutually admit that some brokenness cannot be “fixed,” but can certainly be endured together. We might not think of this practice as “successful” because it doesn’t follow the traditional problem and answer model, but it does allow love and connection grow.

            Overall, I realize now that the greatest gift I can give to others and myself is true presence. I do not have to “fix” or figure out some way to escape the discomfort of brokenness, as if I need to prove something, but rather, let the present moment “settle into [my] bones, and allow [my] soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love,” even in the midst of brokenness.

           

            So armed with this new insight and understanding, I left Chicago eager to continue my reflections and practice “being present” to the people I would soon encounter in New Mexico and Mexico. Stay tuned for part two of this reflection. In the meantime, I invite you to pray St. Thérèse’s simple prayer above and practice the gift of true presence.