romans 15:13

Let me take you into a memory for a moment, if you don't mind.

Today I wanted to relive a day in 2012, during my senior year of high school.
Not the school part, of course. I wanted to be thrown back into the ministry. Into the organizing and the planning and the evangelizing and the writing Call to Worships and Morning Prayers.

Back to sitting wrapped in quilts and rocking back and forth in the rocking chair just because you could, and because why not?

And the smell of pep hot chocolate and whiffs of hyacinths and burnt toast and melting butter that should have been put back in the fridge.

And nutella-covered anything.

And snuggling and not studying and laughing until we cry and crying until we laugh and dancing around to Hillsong United: Live in Miami or David Crowder Band or Switchfoot and praising and forgetting that we still have to go to Spanish class after lunch.

And the times when we should have been studying for our Government test but decided it didn't matter anymore.

When it was completely normal to look up videos of goats and lambs and write notes just to affirm for the sake of affirming. Post-it notes with Bible verses and song lyrics and love etched into each word.

When the women that surrounded me left me in awe every time I sat and talked with them. Great friends and great mentors and you could almost just hear Jesus saying "Bailey, don't let this slip away. Remember every moment. Hold on to the Joy."

I wish I could rewind for a day to talk about how good God is and put up Christmas lights and Nativity scenes and snowflakes were everywhere and in everyone in 80° weather.

And days when I would throw my blazer onto the couch and cry from the amount of work I had to do and come back to my backpack in campus ministry to find it with a gift of a small, white, ceramic bird with a ribbon tied around its neck with a note of affirmation and hope.

Days when I would practically run up to deliver a coffee or an iced tea and a cupcake with cream cheese frosting because it was her favorite.

Where a friendship was born that was all in God's divine providence before we were born and helped to shape me into the woman I am today.

And times before and after school when I just never wanted to leave, since I was convinced that I could almost see Jesus just sitting there in the room with us - smiling that big smile - because of the amount of grace that overflowed from each conversation.

Where Joy was defined to me in both word and action by women who inspired me and challenged me and showed me what life was for. For souls. For fighting the good fight. For the beauty of the Mass and for that special encounter with Christ both on retreat and in a hug.

Where all that mattered was letting the Spirit work as we flew by the seat of our pants to create bulletin boards and liturgies and themes and organize everything. And it was so good. And whole. And holy.

Where there was Joy... and sadness at times... and anger at others... but always hope.

And it was beautiful.

It was a great Joy to clean the cluttered room during study hall - or any time of the day, really - because of the things we found - old CDs and kazoos and rubber duckies and compasses and bells and snowflake erasers and feathers and frisbees and Easter trees and beautiful images of Our Lady and Mary Oliver poems and retreat guides and garbage bags full of sand that seemed to have no purpose and that was the purpose. Because we might need them in the future.

"Why is there a bag of sand back here?"

Why did we have the bag of sand? Because apparently, we might need it in the future. It was just stuffed down in the cupboard in the back room. Nobody knew about it, nobody went looking for it. It was just there, safe and hidden. My memories of campus ministry are like this bag of sand. Put there for safe-keeping. I can't get rid of them and I don't want to get rid of them because I know I am going to need these memories and experiences for something in the future, even if I don't know what it is yet. The experiences of my past, with the grace of God, shape my future. And there is so much beauty in that.

I hadn't thought about my senior year for a while. And I am so blessed to have experienced it the way I did. And I will carry these memories in my heart and I will fight on and I will remember all of the things that these experiences taught me. Like what Joy really is. And that God loves us, and He loves the stories. And like how God does not make mistakes. And that there is not much better than a hyacinth sitting next to a copy of Mulieris Dignitatem. And how some things are just ridiculous. How a platypus is an example of when God was confused (what is it? a beaver or a duck?).

And how all will be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of a thing will be well. And there is always hope.

Live with Joy.