Get In The Water - Doubt and Faith

"Doubt isn't the opposite of faith;

it's an element of faith."

- Paul Tillich

    I have always been a hopeless romantic. I can embarrassingly enough admit to reading every Nicholas Sparks novel and loving it. I can also admit to knowing just about every word in the movie "The Notebook." I absolutely loved reading cheesy romance novels (nothing distasteful, of course). But that wasn't all. I loved hearing how couples met, their stories of first dates, the little things about each other that they love. I'm always willing to hear love stories partly because I have my own love story to tell...between me and JC. And this morning, while I was sitting in Mass, I couldn't help but think that if I was in the boat with the disciples, Jesus might react much like Ryan Gosling in the Notebook (see above picture). 

     If you've seen the movie, you know exactly what I am talking about. Noah (Ryan Gosling) has just started dating Allie (Rachel McAdams) when they find themselves at a summer, Southern lake or pond. All but Allie have swung on the rope swing to get in the water and Noah is cheering her on. After a few "fake-outs" and lots of screaming, Allie finally swings on the rope swing and falls into the cold water. She had been looking out over the pond (probably filled with creepy-crawlies, so I don't blame her), scared out of her mind to jump in, and Noah, already having been in the water, shouts at her "GET IN THE WATER." This scene was playing in my head as I listened to the Gospel reading. Now, trust me, I was paying attention.

     In the Gospel reading today, we hear the familiar story of the disciples in the boat in the middle of a storm. Jesus, walks on water toward them, and they are fearful of Him possibly being a ghost. When the disciples realize it is Jesus, Jesus asks Peter to get out of the boat and into the water. Of course, we all know what happens. Peter starts to get scared and begins to sink. Jesus, then, raises him up. I pictured myself in the boat facing a terrifying storm (or the terrifying pond). Jesus, having been on the water (in the storm) already, beckons for me to come out of the water, perhaps playfully like Noah in "The Notebook. Much like Allie, I hesitate, unsure of what is going to happen once I get in the water. But, because I love Jesus, like Allie loved Noah, I get in the water. See the visual? Yeah...then there was me trying not to giggle as I imagined Jesus looking like Ryan Gosling. But that's not all...

     As I continued to reflect, after the Homily, I pulled out the Gospel reading again. I was looking for any sign of Jesus actually calming the storm before asking Peter to come out on the water. There wasn't any. So you see, the disciples were already sitting in a boat in the midst of the storm when Jesus comes. Now remember, Jesus had to walk through the storm to get to the boat. Jesus doesn't calm the storm; there's not even a brief mention of the sea calming when He walks toward them. But instead, He simply says, "Do not be afraid." Oh yeah...the disciples were already terrified because of the storm. Then suddenly Jesus shows up and says, do not be afraid, but doesn't actually do anything about the storm?! Sounds reasonable (enter sarcasm here). Not only does He not calm the storm, but then He asks Peter to join Him out on the water, which was probably extremely choppy and rough. If anything, the storm is worst out in the water where Jesus is standing, than in the boat, thus, being even more terrifying. Yet, Peter does it. Of course, we know that Peter at one point "thinks about the wind" (I would be more worried about the sharks underneath but to each his own) and starts to slip beneath the water. At this point Jesus, raises him up and says, "Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?" 

    How often is this our life? As I listened, I felt the reading strike a chord with me. Right now, I'm sitting in my own boat and I can feel the waters starting to get rough and choppy. I can see the storm of uncertainty coming. I don't have a job secured yet; I'm not sure if I'm going to live at home or move out; I don't know what's going to happen in the next few months, weeks, days; I don't know a lot of things. All of this is swirling around me and I can feel the storm coming. So often we see these storms coming; these true storms of uncertainty. Often, we find ourselves begging for the storms to go away, to be calmed, to just stop, much like I was last night. But the storms don't stop; they get worse and we feel we are stuck in our boats. But Jesus will come to us; He will go through the storm to find us. And then, He will ask us to go even deeper into the storm. We see Jesus and we are peaceful, but the moment we start thinking about the storm again, we start to sink. This is when Jesus asks us about our faith. 

     At this moment in my life, I feel Jesus asking me to get in the water. I haven't quite yet left the boat, but I know He is there asking me to get in the water. I see Him and I'm begging Him to calm the storms, but He wants me to go deeper into the storm. He wants to show me that with Him, I can weather the storm. He wants to show me my strength; He wants me to believe in myself. But I think, too, all sailors gain experience by the storms they go through. They are better prepared the bigger and worse storms they might have to weather. This storm now is teeny compared to the storms that will come later in life. Jesus is asking me to go deeper into the storm to better prepare me for the ones I might encounter later in my life. And all the while, He is promising to hold my hand. He is promising to be there with me, either through another person or via carrying me in prayer. Right now I'm looking at the storm and at Jesus, holding out His hand and begging me to get in the water. 

     As I was thinking about all of this, I happened to look over at a dear friend of mine who was seated on the other side of the church. On some mornings, she and I share a pew in the Chapel, so we have truly gotten to know each other by praying with and for one another. She has become a spiritual mentor for me and I am extremely grateful for her presence in my life. Anyway, I was looking around the Chapel and found her seated there with our Pastor's mom. At this point in the Mass, we just knelt down for the consecration. Our Pastor's mom was sitting in her wheelchair in front of the pew my friend was kneeling in. As soon as she knelt down, she reached in front of her and offered her hand. Our Pastor's mom took her hand and throughout the consecration, they held hands. Of course, both both and after this, I had seen moments of similar comfort. On occasion, my friend would put her hands on the shoulders of the dear woman in front of her or offer her hand in a comforting way. It is clear to me that this dear woman, our Pastor's mom, is going through a storm herself. She is aging and the aging process is sometimes terrifying. Yet, my friend is often with her and offering her comfort. It seems to me that our Pastor's mom might be in the middle of her storm, and Jesus is holding her up through my friend. 

     It was these moments through Mass that reminded me of what would happen when I finally get out of the boat. Right now, I'm holding onto my boat, the things in life of which I am certain, which really isn't too much. I can see Jesus in the distance, coming towards me and begging me to get in the water. I used to be a cannon ball girl. That is, I used to jump right in the pool or ocean no matter how cold or rough the waters might be. But now, I'm more reserved. I don't know what's in the water, I don't know what's in my storm, and so it's harder for me to jump out. I know though, that Jesus will be much life my friend. He will offer me a gentle hand to hold, gentle hands on my shoulders or arms, just so that I know He is there. He will hold me up when I start to fear in the storm, too. 

    So why am I holding onto my boat? I'm afraid I'll sink in my fears of uncertainty. I'm afraid. Jesus is telling me, "do not be afraid; do not fear that which you do not know." I know, Jesus, I know. But my human instincts say, "stay in the boat." No one in their right mind would jump in the ocean in the middle of a storm and yet, Jesus did. Jesus walked right into the storm to find me. And now, He's telling me that the only way to survive the storm is if I get in the water. So often, our human instincts don't match what faith says to do. In fact, a lot of times, it feels quite like they are opposing forces. I feel that way now. I know that faith says I will survive if I weather the storm. So, maybe it's time I heed the message. Maybe it's time I just "get in the water." Maybe, like Allie, I need to trust the love of my life enough, and just jump. But until I get the courage to do so, I'll work on making my doubt walk the plank. 

There's Always The Kitchen Sink

"The ocean is a baffling element.

I can walk safely on it's shores, caressed by the sands

and yet, if I were to throw my cares to the sea, 

the waves bring them right back again."

Ignore the fact that I look twelve in this picture...
Cape May Lighthouse 2013

     Contrary to former belief, my littlest sister, Lizzie, is not always a saint. Sometimes she can drive me crazy, sometimes she can get on my last nerve, and sometimes she can be the sweetest, cutest, nine-year old I know. What I love (and at the same time dislike) is that she shows her emotions to the full. If she's mad, she stomps her feet all throughout the house while the rest of us are yelling "control your temper, young lady." If she's happy, she'll giggle and laugh and tell the same story over and over and over again. If she's sad, she cries. And not just little tears either, buckets and buckets of sobs. If she's hungry (which is definitely an emotion in my family), she will conjure up the most creative, interesting meal possible with the widest array of items in our kitchen. Of course, this means climbing over and in things which usually results in a huge mess. While her foot stomping, bucket sobbing, and kitchen mess making antics might actually drive one crazy (and most often it does), I can't help but look at her and say, "Wow, I wish I was that comfortable in my own skin to fully express myself."

     The other day, my family and I decided to take a drive down to Cape May. Of course, if you don't have EZ Pass, driving across the bridge, down the Atlantic City Expressway and then down the Garden State can be quite the piggy bank breaker. So, I decided to take the fam down a different route. Of course, I wasn't driving, I was just casually reading my novel in the front seat. You see, my Dad has an incredible sense of direction. So, I guess I kind of assumed that once we got over the bridge, he would know exactly where we were and how we were going to get to Cape May. Well he didn't and a normal 1.5-2 hour drive turned into a 3 hour drive. 

     My sisters were snuggled together in the back seat for most of the ride. We had left at 8:30 which was entirely too early for any normal school kid. When we finally hit the 2.5 hour mark on our trip, suddenly the back seat was full of "Are we there yet?" I couldn't help but laugh, because deep down inside all I wanted was to get out and get on the beach. ASAP. But as we pulled into Cape May County, the skies opened up and it started raining. And when it rains down the shore, it rains cats and dogs. Luckily for me, I had pulled my hair back into two french braids. A rainy day for a curly top is horrible. Talk about looking like you got electrocuted. Anyway, so we parked the car at the lighthouse, I put on my EIC hat (EIC, folks, is the school I lived at in Peru Escolar Inmaculado Corazon) and donned my pink and yellow windbreaker/raincoat. Of course, this than made me appear as a twelve year old instead of a twenty-one year old. We climbed the 199 steps in the lighthouse and the moment Lizzie saw the beach (she hadn't realized we were right there....), she got so excited that she would NOT stop badgering us until she was in the ocean.

     Well, like I said, it was raining, cats and dogs, and wasn't exactly what one would call beach weather. It wasn't even 80 degrees out. (SIDENOTE: When we were younger, we weren't allowed in the pool unless it was 80 degrees. You can only imagine the tactics we had for getting the thermometer up to 80 degrees.) We all had our bathing suits on but really it was too muggy for us even to want to go in the water. Well, all of us except Lizzie. We left the lighthouse and pulled into Sunset Beach, the very tip of New Jersey. We were standing on the rocky beach in the rain and before we knew it, there was Liz, throwing her clothes on the rocks (to get soaked) and in the water. DO NOT we all screamed. But it was too late, she was already thigh high in the water. 

     We probably would have stayed a little longer if the winds hadn't picked up and our stomachs weren't growling. So, we had a misadventure at Wawa before driving through Wildwood to get pictures by the Wildwood sign and then onto Stone Harbor. By the time we got to Stone Harbor, the rains had stopped and it looked like the sun might actually try to come out. As we walked along the beach, the temperature warmed but I had distracted Lizzie by finding lots of seashells, crabs and even a dead jellyfish. Still, it was too foggy to go in the water, even if it was warming up. 

     Lizzie had gotten herself so perked up about going in the water that ever since Cape May, she kept asking when she could go swimming. None of us had the heart to tell her that we probably would not be going swimming that day. We got back in the car and that's when the tears starting pouring. And they weren't silent tears, they came with the sound of a little girl's broken heart. She cried and sobbed and sometimes screamed the whole way out of stone harbor and over the bridge. That's when I had an idea...the Zoo.

     The Cape May County Zoo is literally ten minutes out of Stone Harbor and I thought it would be a fantastic way to get her sidetracked. It seemed to work; she was zooming around to see every animal, sometimes almost knocking us out of the way. I thought to myself, how clever, she'll never remember. That was until we got to the last exhibit in the zoo. It was there that she said: Daddy, now, can we go in the ocean?! She had wanted to get through all the animals just so she could speed up her time on the beach. Clever little girl, veeeeeeery clever. 

     Well, like all of us, she is also a Daddy's little girl and as much as we might drive Daddy crazy, we all know we have Daddy wrapped around our fingers. It's good way, of course; we're definitely not spoiled. But out of his love and affection, we jumped in the car once again and drive through the next few ocean view towns until we finally landed ourselves in Strathmere. Strathmere is a little town I had never actually heard of before but immediately I fell in love with it. We parked the car and unloaded the trunk. Lizzie was already well on her way to the ocean before we even set the blanket down. I wanted so badly to get in the water, but it was way too cold. So, I settled myself down by where the water meets the shore and watched as the baby clams rolled in and out of the sand. 

     About a half hour later, I found myself staring at the water from the comfort of my own blanket. The beach was pretty empty as it was almost 5 in the afternoon and so it was quiet and peaceful. Even though I was with my family, I easily made personal space for myself. I still had my EIC hat on and immediately all the memories of my beach adventures came flooding back. Everything from the one time I fell in a giant sand hole while down the shore with my boyfriend's family, to the time Sister Virginia taught me how to pray from the Life Guard stand in Ocean City to just recently when I was down in Stone Harbor for my birthday and Sister Elaine took me to watch the sunset on the bay. All these beautiful memories came back to me and with the waves went right back out. As I sat and reflected, tears filled up in the my eyes. The ocean is more than a memory to me; it's a part of me. The sands, the shells, the rocks, the fish, the very water itself is all a part of me. When I am near the ocean, I feel complete and when I am far away, something is missing terribly. 

     I tell the story of my little sister, not so as to embarrass her but rather because if I didn't have as much control over my emotions, I would probably throw a fit every time I needed the ocean. She put into visual format what I was feeling when we were driving away from the beach each time. The ocean is such a part of me as it brings so much peace to my mind. It says to me, as big as your troubles or confusions are, I am bigger. The ocean is my God. God is my ocean. I can easily swim in the ocean of God's peace. Just as the ocean is bigger than all my worries and thoughts, God is bigger. My little sister put into view what my heart has been going through in the past few weeks. Happiness and yet pain, joy and sorrow, being pulled in every direction. I just needed to ocean to be able to focus again. As I sat on the beach, on my red blanket, staring off into the ocean, I had a desire for someone to be there with me. I wanted so badly to be able to share that moment with someone who understood all the trials AND jubilations that religious life offers. I thought how beautiful it would be if suddenly anyone of my Sisters were to just walk out on the beach and meet me there, to tell me it will actually be all okay and while the troubles do come, the jubilations are bigger, like the ocean is bigger, like my God is bigger. But alas, I was alone....well, not really. No, in fact, I was far from alone. I had my God, I had my family and I had the memories of some many times in the past. I was far, far, far from feeling alone. 

     As we left the ocean, Lizzie smiled on satisfactorily. She had finally gotten what she had been longing for for a very long time. I looked on through my side view windows at the ocean shrinking behind me and thought two things. First, that I had a feeling I might find myself at the waters edge many times this up coming school year. And two, oh how I would love to live by the ocean. That anywhere I live, I sure hope there is some type of water nearby. But since, in the convent, one doesn't always get what she wants, I guess, if I'm ever in dire need of a body of water, there's always the kitchen sink.