Singing Solo

When my youngest daughter left for college this September, I was appropriately lost. When one dedicates two decades of her life to others, she can’t simply return to the life she had before.

The house had become so quiet. The crashing din of activity from just five years earlier had shrunk to nothing. I no longer had to convey my eldest child to performances or auditions. My youngest was charting her own course. My husband, now retired, was no longer drowning in work. My father-in-law died in 2022, no longer needing care. My mother’s partner passed away just last February, so also no longer needed emergency assistance.

And so, in August, I found myself with three people at my dining room table instead of seven. I didn’t have to take care of anyone. Remaining a part-time English teacher at my daughters’ school was my saving grace. I had been driving to the school since my daughters started there in 2014. Having that place to go, even just two or three days a week, gave me the routine I needed. It kept me sane.

Yet work was only every other day. What was I going to do with the rest of my time?

To answer that question, I began bullet journaling in November. I had tried it before with some success. Then the pandemic hit, and I abandoned it along with every other good habit I’d developed. Bullet journaling (or Bujo) is a mindfulness practice. It involves getting one notebook and writing down the events and actions of the day, along with notes and moods. It’s a comprehensive record of tasks, ideas, and feelings which I can then examine for patterns. It allows me to see how I feel about how I’m spending my time.

Since I had tried and failed to incorporate journaling into my life, I decided to take an online course. It was on sale, half-price, for Thanksgiving. As the course progressed, I realized a lot about who I am, what I want, and where I’m going.

The founder of the Bujo method, Ryder Carroll, points out that thoughts, plus feelings, over time, become beliefs. Beliefs lead to actions that can perpetuate those beliefs. This can be good if those beliefs serve us, or bad if they hold us back. He then argues that journaling can help us observe how our thoughts and feelings are shaping our lives over time.

The idea that thoughts, plus feelings, over time become beliefs that shape our world resonated with me. During the pandemic, my thoughts and feelings were extremely negative. I worried about my daughters missing essential coming-of-age experiences, and felt powerless to help them. I feared that any outside-the-home actions would put my father-in-law, my mother, and her partner at risk. My husband was an anesthesiologist–he managed airways for a living and COVID is a respiratory virus. I was convinced he would die. Anyone who knows me well is aware that I am a hypochondriac with death issues. COVID hit at the center of the Venn diagram of my neuroses. I couldn’t engage in any of the volunteer activities I used to manage my anxiety and depression. I felt hopeless, helpless, and useless. I couldn’t think of a reason to be alive.

Trapped by this negative belief, I turned to another belief–my faith. I told God I was completely lost. I no longer had any idea how to use the gift of life He had given me. I told Him that He could have my life to do with as He wished. Then, I recited the refrain of the surrender novena: “O Jesus, I surrender myself to You, take care of everything!” Then I told Him that I would wait for any sense of direction. Whenever it came, I would follow.

A call came within the hour. But that’s another story.

This story is about how thoughts, plus feelings, over time, become beliefs. My despairing thoughts led me to believe my life was no longer worth living. My belief that my life was a gift from God prompted me to reach out to Him. Getting a literal phone call only an hour later led me to utter joy and amazement. I helped me see my faith needed to be at the center of my life.

A year later, I was asked to teach for a semester at my daughters’ school. I said yes. After that, I was asked to stay on for a semester as a religion teacher. Many lessons I developed turned into topics for blog posts. These were shared at The Gloria Sirens, a writing consortium I had joined five years earlier.

My first post for them, “When God Winks,” should have shown me that my writing should focus on my faith. But it was pre-pandemic. My daughters were still young enough that I felt I had some measure of control over their world and mine. I hadn’t fully surrendered my will for my life, and control of my life, to God’s. I still thought I would pursue a life in the ever-secular academia.

Then I was asked to stay on as a part-time English teacher at the school. I knew I wouldn’t be returning to college teaching. The school had become a second home; my fellow employees my second family.

As I delved deeper into Catholic education, I felt called more and more to write about my faith. I have examined my thoughts and feelings in my journal since November. I believe I want to give my writing life over to God, too. This means it’s time to branch off from my The Gloria Sirens and sing my own, faith-filled song.

A week after this decision, I received a call from my favorite Catholic radio station, Spirit FM 90.5. They asked me if I would be willing to give a talk at their March Women of Worth event. Once again, God winked, God called, and I answered. I will be giving a talk, entitled “Writing as Prayer,” on March 29th. My life as a Catholic writer and speaker has, thus, begun.

So, after five years, I am going to take my leave of The Gloria Sirens. I am so incredibly grateful for the opportunity they have given me to find my voice. They have provided me with the space to experiment with timbre, pitch, and key. Now, I am confidently moving to sing solo. And the theme of my song? It’s the new title for this blog: how God moves through “Every Grace and Blessing” in our lives.

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