Just after attending mass for the Feast of the Visitation on the 31st of May, I was surprised to see a voicemail from the UK on my phone. More than surprised, I was bewildered.
Just the night before, I had once again felt completely broken down and lost about my plans for next year. I’d been looking at and reaching out to various Christian community opportunities, from volunteer year positions to ecumenical programs with a structured life of prayer. Over the course of May, the sea of applications, interviews and discernment practices that I’d been swimming in all year had seemed to dissipate. The high-pitched whir suddenly stopped. I wasn’t swimming anymore, I wasn’t treading water, I was just washed up on some unknown island with a mere “I don’t know yet” response to prodding questions. The “I don’t know” was a patchwork of doubt and faith. I was being asked to trust, but as my tears the night of the 30th showed, it wasn’t coming so easily.
Ever since I’d received a letter of rejection on the 3rd of May from the Community of St Anselm (an ecumenical community in London centered around a life of prayer, study and service), things had shifted. Before this, I had been set on returning to the Taize Community in France for a year there. But sitting in bed and reading that rejection e-mail from St Anselm at 5am knocked something out of me.
I stopped obsessing over French lessons on YouTube. I stopped compulsively listening to Taize chant CDs. And I even got a haircut, in spite of my vow that I’d grow out my hair for Taize into a style I could easily trim myself while living some kind of Bohemian, hair-dresser free life.
Yes, Taize had just informed me via e-mail that they could not help me obtain a visa for the eight or ninth month stay I wanted. But I was deterred by something deeper, something I couldn’t put my finger on.
I was deterred, and I was stuck. I wanted to choose Taize over everything else. I wanted to turn down other options and raise up my backpack to a year in France. I wanted this to be a heroic, romantic story that I starred in about following my heart.
Instead, I got to follow God’s heart. Instead, that voicemail on my phone was from the Community of St Anselm, with an opening for me. Instead, I knew instantly and to my core that after months of feeling led to Taize, the whole arc of my year had led me here. As Psalm 40 says, God “put a new song in my mouth.”
I used to be frustrated that I throw all my passion into one season of life only to see that dream vanish. I studied organ intensely for a year before realizing I wouldn’t complete the course of study or be a top-notch church organist. I spent time convinced I’d be a music education major, soaking in all the teaching strategies and philosophies before falling off that path for something else. And now, I’d poured out all my energy on Taize as I pored through books for my research paper, listened to its music night and day, and giddily searched plane tickets.
But a pilgrim heart keeps moving, and life keeps changing, and God remains. Faith, as hard as it was for me, was the constant this year. It was what straightened my path, allowing me to see it as whole. And this constant is a gift, a narrative thread stronger than my own making.
When I’d gotten the rejection e-mail from St Anselm, I hadn’t responded to claim or decline my spot on the waitlist. I had unconsciously chosen the “ignore and forget” strategy. I saw myself as lost to them. By being rejected and then re-considered, I was humbled and able to accept this next year as I gift beyond what I could earn. I was ready to say yes, much readier than I could have been on May 3. The desert month had, in the end, led me to new life. Back to Psalm 40, God had listened to my cry, and I’d learned patience in the meanwhile. God had truly “lifted me out of the pit.”
I’ll be writing more about the journey of faith to this community, and life there, but for now, thanks for reading this preliminary song of praise. I’m still bewildered by the ways of God, and I’m still in shock. I’m also raising support. Prayers, encouraging words, and any financial donation you may wish to give are more than welcome. Here’s a link to my fundraiser:
Sing a New Song 