Confessions of a Parish-hopper

In the past five years, I've lived in four different states. This has made me a little commitment-phobic about joining a parish. Should I volunteer for things when I'm just going to leave in a few months? What if there is something better across town? It's helpful to know all the local Mass and Confession times, after all. For better or worse, this has made me into a parish-hopper.

 When I lived in Delaware I ached for Catholic camaraderie. There weren't really any young adult groups to speak of. I went to Mass at the cute historic church up the road, and all the senior citizens gave me the side-eye.

Then I moved back to my hometown in the Diocese of Arlington, where there are more YA events going on than you can shake a stick at. For every weekly listserve I received, there was some other parish hosting a book club holy/happy hour. It was great, but overwhelming. Sometimes I felt like this:

The activities at my parish usually didn't fit my schedule, so I found myself exploring other options. There was the Holy Thursday 7 church pilgrimage from my old parish, the young professionals lectures in DC, the packed Theology on Tap that made me feel old, and the random wine and cheese that a friend invited me to. After a while I felt like Goldilocks trying on all these fellowship groups.

Maybe this one...

It wasn't until I started working on Capitol Hill that I found a place that felt just right. I could see the steeple of St. Peter's from my Metro stop. After long days dealing with tourist questions, the lovely, peaceful church was a place to relax and think. The parish activities were perfect too! Holy hour with confession took place every weeknight, and the friendly priests hosted wine-and-cheese receptions in their historic house rectory. (19th century furniture remains the way to my heart.) The bulletin featured a perfect blend of devout spirituality and social justice service opportunities.

Traveling Mass kits are always so nifty.

 I hopped onto the Monday evening Bible study and Saturday morning food pantry deliveries. By far my favorite outing was a hike in Great Falls Park. On the feast of my patron St. Elizabeth of Hungary, we checked out waterfalls, clambered over rocks, and attended Mass said on a picnic table. Best of all, the young adults group welcomed me without any awkwardness. Even though I technically lived an hour away, no one pointed at me and yelled:

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Just when I was settling in at St. Peter's and learning about all the Latin Mass options in Alexandria, I got a job in New York. See! I knew I was too transient to get on anyone's lector schedule!

So here I am at square one again, without a church home. The Betrothed has a wonderful parish in central Jersey, also named St. Peter's, but it's just too far from my job to be our permanent place. For now I'll hang out there while I shop around. Hey look! There are two parishes within walking distance of my office in Brooklyn, not to mention the historic ones in lower Manhattan....

7 Quick Takes, Vol. 23

--- 1 ---

We're in another spurt of wedding planning right now. Our save the date cards came in, bridesmaid jewelry has been ordered, and now I'm dithering about invitation designs. History nerd that I am, I gravitate toward stuff that looks more vintage-y. But I don't want something that yells "I am a twee olde-timey hipster." This card from Vistaprint might work if you want to welcome your guests to a carnival/traveling medicine show with special prizes for target shooting. The Betrothed said one "Victorian Vintage" card looked like "The picture Jesse James was adjusting on the wall just before he got shot."

--- 2 ---

I've been our of work for a month and a half, but no unemployment benefits yet. Government paperwork, why you gotta be so hard?

--- 3 ---

On the positive side, I have another interview next week! I finally, finally have a better sense of trust that if it's the right one, God will still make it work out.

--- 4 ---

Once again, though, I have nothing to wear. I used my only suit that isn't huge on me for the last round. Once again, Divine Providence came through. I just found a great Banana Republic suit at Good will for $11. "Do not ask, what shall we eat, or what shall we wear...."

--- 5 ---

You may have seen this fascinating article in The Atlantic about the decline of Mary as a popular baby name. Does this mean that nobody looks to Jesus' mother as a role model or values virginity anymore, as some Catholic bloggers have suggested? Maybe a bit, but I think that's too easy of an answer. From what I've seen, the trend of picking original, unique baby names extends to devout Christians too. In my little Catholic bubble I've seen Maria, Regina, Mairi, Mary Elizabeth, Mary Catherine, and Mary Beth. I swear half the girls in my high school had the middle name Marie.

--- 6 ---

I got to catch up with some former classmates this week, which was fantastic. A true friend is someone who will not only not get mad when you are an hour late because of traffic, she will also have gluten-free brownies waiting for you.

--- 7 ---

God bless all those students suffering through finals! My three younger siblings are all juggling papers and presentations right now. I just got to give Brother #2 advice on a history paper over Skype. Sigh,  I could almost smell the library stacks. Pondering Leonardo da Vinci is way more fun when you aren't the one getting graded. :-)

Did you know Napoleon collected lots of Leonardo's work, including his notebooks? 

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Mary, Mary Everywhere

Happy Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe! The history nerd in me loves that this is a feast day with such strong ties to American history. Mary left behind a textile artifact that clearly references native culture, how cool it that? 

I also consider today my New York City anniversary. Three years ago The Betrothed and I went exploring at the Guggenheim and did some Christmas-y sightseeing. We went to Mass at St. Patrick's and saw some feast day processions getting underway. 

Flowers for Our Lady at St. Patricks, 2009

Last week I went to New York for an interview and had a similarly magical day. Just a few blocks over from St. Patricks is a similarly imposing Episcopal church, St. Bartholmew's. (Next to the Waldorf-Astoria, at 51st and Park Avenue) I had noticed St. Bart's the last time I met my friend Laura near her office there, and so decided to check out the inside. You can too in this virtual tour. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

It was amazing. I kicked myself for forgetting my camera. The whole building was like a Gilded Age who's who - James Renwick and Stamford White designed aspects of it, the Vanderbilts were parishioners. There were Art Deco mosaics and the best angel holy water fonts I have ever seen. As an added bonus, I had walked in upon the Mt. Holyoke women's chorus rehearsing for a concert, so my poking around had a festive soundtrack. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The whole place was lovely and inspiring, but didn't feel the same as a Catholic church. God was there, but He wasn't Eucharistically There. My old vestment thesis intimidation was coming back too. Several times Anglican clerics practically patted me on the head when they learned I was a Papist girl. They basically told me "There, there, I'm sorry you follow a  Church that doesn't get the Arts like we do." 

Then I turned down a side hallway, where a rack of votive candles stood flickering. What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Madonna and Child icon with plenty of pre-dieu kneelers. Episcopalians lighting candles to Mary? Count me in!! On my way to buy a candle, I also found this: 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The south chapel's gorgeous Adoration of the Magi was painted by a female artist, Ethel Parsons Paullin, in 1919. The thirteen medallions around the arch depict scenes from the Nativity. It took my breath away as I thought about how far-reaching Mary's story can be. 

I don't like to think of Mary as some docile, silent person who never raised her voice, if only we could be like her. She was humble, but she was also the woman clothed with the sun and crowned with the stars in Revelation. Her Magnificat is her declaration of her confidence in God's blessings. She is the comforting mother wrapping us in the folds of her mantle, and the warrior striking at the head of the serpent. Christians build shrines of admiration because she is one classy lady, and she walked alongside Christ with dignity and joy. 

Lady Chapel in St. Patrick's Cathedral. Stamford White was here too.
Photo courtesy of Flickriver.com

What I Learned Wednesday

Emmy Cecilia at Journey of a Catholic Nerd Writer has started a new link-up, What I Learned Wednesday. Since I am also a Catholic nerd and love when someone else gives me a post topic, I couldn't say no. Here's what I have discovered this week. 

1) I am an eldest child, and I am a procrastinating perfectionist. This is normal.

Recently I checked out a bunch of books about birth order from the library. (After paying a big fine because I procrastinated about renewing the last batch, naturally.) My favorite title is the enticing, Growing Up Firstborn: The Pressure and Privilege of Being Number One. That's RIGHT Dr. Kevin Leman, we firstborns have it the WORST! 

The picture of firstborn perfectionism sounds like my life. Dwelling on past failures, gauging worth by the number of successes, blowing past accomplishment to focus on what needs to be done next. If you're always worried about doing a good enough job, then you hesitate to get started. This is exactly why I could never start school papers way in advance. I needed to mull over my topic and feel ready to write profound things. 

This has been particularly true for wedding planning. A long engagement of 16 months is doing me no favors. What if I pick out something now and hate it in 6 months? How can I make this celebration a reflection of me and my marriage if I don't even know what I like? You can't rush art. 

But at a certain point, you just have to pick something. I've gotten a little better at this over the years, especially with shopping. Which brings me to:

2) Never pay retail when you don't have to. 

I got an unexpected call this week offering me a job interview in another city. On Friday. Since I last built my professional wardrobe, I have lost 22 pounds. Hooray! Now all those pantsuits don't fit, and neither does my long winter coat. Cue what my family likes to call "Turbo Shopping." 

Burlington Coat Factory had a decent-yet-unorganized selection of wool coats, but I wasn't sure if I could do better elsewhere. I checked out the one day sale at Macy's - to find some of the exact same items from the other store, at twice the price. 

So today I went back to the first store, and picked up this fun, swingy Laundry coat. I paid $60 less than the Macy's sale price, and less than a third of the suggested retail value. Discount outlets can take more time and effort, but once again I learned that it is worth it. 

Cravat and platinum hairdo optional. 

7 Things About Funemployment

So I don't work downtown anymore. The tourist busy season is winding down, so a bunch of us got laid off. We knew this was coming, but still, it's hard out here for a temp. Being unemployed has been an unexpected blessing in some ways. Here's what I've been grateful for these past two weeks. 

A "Staff Only" staircase

1. Having access to an amazing historic place. There are few greater museum thrills than getting to go through the "authorized personnel only" door. I feel like I leave a little piece of my heart behind in every historic place that is "mine" for a short time. Whenever I return to Colonial Williamsburg or Winterthur it feels a little like coming home. This latest installment is no exception. On my last two days I ran around taking pictures of all the beautiful places that would soon be off limits. 


2. The wonderful people I met at work. Most people were in their 20s and starting out, or 40+ and winding down. It was an interesting dynamic of 100 or so folks, everyone with a different interesting background.  Standing around on post all day gave us plenty of time to tell our stories. I felt like Bill Murray in the Groundhog Day diner scene - I could share some random fact about every person in the room.



"Maybe God isn't omniscient, maybe he's just been around so long he knows everything."



3. Not even realizing how lucky I was to know them. One of my favorite coworkers, a big, jovial Civil War buff who brought in barbecue on holidays, tragically died in his sleep last weekend. It's hard to believe such a dynamic and encouraging presence is gone. But the outpouring of support and memories on Facebook from the community has been amazing. Rest in peace, Tony. I'll always remember when that tourist planted a wet one on my face after you got him last-minute tickets.


4. Getting a rest. I spent three hours of every day commuting. Thank goodness for the bus and Metro systems, but leaving my house in the dark at 6:30 AM was getting old. So was battling the rush hour crowds. One day a lady in a suit told me I needed to be more aggressive getting a seat. I took her advice to heart, but I resisted the urge to whale on anyone with my lunchbag. 


5. A surprise FTD box on my doorstep election night. If I hadn't gone out for an errand I would have missed it. "Happy carpooling and fulfillment of civic duties," said the card from my fiance. 







6. Rediscovering my hobbies. I've baked two kinds of gluten free bread (fennel seeds and raisins FTW), I've watched movies on Netflix, I've checked out more library books than I can carry. Oh yeah, and blogging. 


7. The opportunity for something new. I have a spreadsheet full of job opportunities. Fire up the novenas. 

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How Not to Talk About Underemployed People

There's been a lot of backlash to the Obama campaign's "The Life of Julia." This slick little slideshow shows a woman going through life relying on government funding, even though mean ol' Mitt Romney wants to rip those benefits from her hands. Like all campaign literature, it oversimplifies things and sounds slightly condescending.

One recent response to it really burned me up, though. Sure, I agree with "The Life of Emily" as a rebuttal of government paternalism. I bet if I met the author, Emily Stimpson, in person, we'd have a lot in common. Her story of success as a professional young woman is inspiring. Making it as a free-lance writer is hard, and she's totally convinced me to open a health savings account.

But her tales of job success hit too close to home for me. It felt like the name-dropping and insensitive boasting of a smug class valedictorian. Sure, she's smart and diligent, but she also got many lucky breaks. One of those was being born 7 years before I was. Right now, there aren't enough merit scholarships and entry-level jobs to go around for even the hard-studying A-students. This sentence in particular burned: "It would never occur to her to still be on her parents’ plan, even if she could. After all, she’s 26—an adult." Well yahoo. I guess that makes me an infant.

Via Economic Policy Institute

To top it off, Emily's readers decided that I and other underemployed people who commented were whiny morons lacking American values. Their kids could pay for insurance straight out of school, what's wrong with us? "A master's degree does not entitle you to a job with benefits," scolded one person. He implied I should have gone to trade school instead. The flurry of "dislikes" felt like a spit in the face. These pharisees pointed at me, the 27-year old living with her parents, and said "I thank you, O Lord, that I am not like that."

I know, I'm talking about internet comments from strangers here. It doesn't really matter. But this was on a Catholic website. For the first time, I felt attacked personally by my own kind. I couldn't believe the ignorance and lack of compassion.


The "American Dream" is not in the Apostles' Creed, people. Our economy is in flux right now - a college degree doesn't ensure a job anymore. People are relying on their parents for longer into adulthood. The recession is not over. Who knows what career path advice kids will get in five or ten years.

If I were to write "The Life of Sarah," it would read like Emily's, but with more ups and downs. Mine is just one story, and I know there are many people worse off than I. But I am an example of how fortunes can unexpectedly change, and how hard work and good grades don't always win you success. My odyssey into adulthood also shows how sometimes, you need a helping hand.

I went to a state university for the lower tuition, taking out loans and working part-time jobs. At age 20 I contracted a chronic circulatory condition and had to take a year of leave from school. For the next 5 years, this "pre-existing condition" would prevent me from getting coverage outside of my parents' insurance plan. If I didn't have insurance, I couldn't get the medication I needed to function. So yes, I relied on my parents into adulthood.

At age 23 I spent a year with the Vincentian Service Corps in St. Louis. There I saw firsthand how government aid could help some people, like the mom of 5 who used housing assistance money to move away from her abusive meth-addict husband. I also saw the heavy costs of family decline and sexual irresponsibility. I learned how some people just wanted a handout, but all the money in the world couldn't replace the value of caring, challenging mentors. All this time I made $300 a month, so obviously I wasn't building a nest egg. It was worth it.

Source

At age 25 I was in a competitive master's program that provided a tuition fellowship and stipend. I could not have afforded grad school any other way. When my Dad lost his job, I emptied my "wedding dress slush fund" savings into COBRA fees to extend my insurance coverage. A generous gift from a relative helped me pay these fees and buy a very sensible, very used car. My cardiologist declared me mostly free of symptoms, and so I could finally purchase basic insurance through my university.

At age 26 I got my master's, but not a job like most of my classmates. I moved back in with my parents and worked odd jobs all summer. In a stroke of luck I got an entry-level temp job, replacing an accounting department's college intern. My hourly wage job allows me to pay for my insurance, as well as out-of-pocket treatments for a back injury.

Now at age 27 I know I must help pay for my wedding, but have no idea where I'll be working in a month. A lot of my peers save money by shacking up with significant others, but obviously we won't do that. I'm determined to have Depression-era pluck, looking for whatever gigs I can find. Substitute teaching? Museum volunteering? A temp agency? I'm also going for the novena mother-load, the 54-day rosary. My path is not what I envisioned at age 20, and I do not wish it for my younger siblings. But I refuse to condemn myself for circumstances in some part beyond my control.

So if you want to talk to the Kids Today about their jobs, realize that it's always more complicated than it looks. Here are a few tips.

• Don't conflate individuals with economic trends. Should we have a national conversation about how college is overpriced and maybe not worth it for everyone? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean you should point at a deep-thinking liberal arts major and tell him he should have been a mechanic instead. Don't grill him about whether it's time to "give up" on his field. 
• Read this recent piece about the surprising number of PhDs on public assistance.  Realize that not everyone on food stamps is a welfare queen - sometimes ambitious, intelligent people turn to welfare as a last resort. 
• Don't tell a recent grad "Oh, but aren't there lots of companies in your field where you live?" Yes, we know, as does everyone else with our degree. This is like telling a single woman "Oh, but there are lots of cute guys in your area. Have you tried going to bars?"
• Don't yap about how you or your kids or cousin or brother was a wild success right out of school. 
• Do refer underemployed young adults to job openings or to people who might be good professional connections. Whom you know matters, more than ever. 
• Do offer practical interview advice based on your own experience. Express sympathy when they get turned down after an interview. Assure them that they are just as capable as their peers; that a lot of this is mysterious luck.
• Do cheer them on with small successes, like part-time retail jobs. Don't lecture them about counting their blessings. They know. 
• Do tell them about sales on professional wear at the local outlet mall. 
• Do offer to pray for them. Only God knows how we'll get out of this recession mess. 

Any other job-seekers reading this? What would you add to my list? 

St. Joseph the Worker

Teaching young Jesus how not to lose a finger to a plane.

Today is the feast of St. Joseph the Worker. This is a young saint day, established by Pope Pius XII in 1955 in response to Communist "May Day" celebrations. Other countries still observe May Day/International Worker's Day. (This includes my Romanian colleagues, lucky ducks.) Dear St. Joseph really does deserve extra days dedicated to his awesomeness. His wife has about a bazillion, after all. His vocation as spouse, parent, and laborer is something anyone can relate to.

Those are some legit clamps on that work bench. Source. 

I really could use some help in the labor department these days, since I'm still an underemployed twenty-something. The museum of my dreams liked me a lot, but decided to hire a good friend of mine instead. This one hurts. I hope that place and I can "still be friends," but this does feel an awful lot like a prom love triangle. To top it off, my awesome temp job is finally ending.

I feel terribly adrift, but really this change is the best thing to happen in a while. It's time for something new. Despite all the uncertainty, I have a feeling that God wouldn't let me lose my job unless He had something better in store. Guess I'll fire up the novenas again.

By John Collier. Via Terry Nelson at Abbey Roads. 

Last weekend I went to confession at a nearby church named for Jesus' foster father. As I knelt before his statue, I looked up and noticed the hatchet in Joseph's hands. And realized I'm an idiot.

Who better to ask for help in my job search than the patron saint of workers? Wouldn't Joseph love to examine some historic furniture with me? I'm sure he'd be great at identifying wood types or tool marks. Did he, like me, make a mess of things the first time he tried to use a gouge? Did he sneeze from all the wood shavings in his nose? I wonder what he would have thought of Thomas Chippendale's Director.

I tried some planing in Colonial Williamsburg last year. Photo courtesy of JRG. 

So St. Joseph the Worker, please pray for me to find a job. And pray for everyone adrift in this messy economy of ours, whether they are new graduates or old veterans hoping to retire. Remind us that no work is pointless if it's done for God.

The District's siren song

This weekend I got to go home to Virginia for a weekend's worth of spring break. (Thanks to thesis a week off just means more time to edit.) It was a great break that involved attending a Confirmation Mass, pigging out on barbeque, being the only table of white people in a legit Cantonese restaurant, and catching up with girlfriends from high school and my VSC year.

From anadelmann's Flickr

There was also a lot of driving. On Saturday morning, I dropped Brother #1 off for a flight at Reagan National, and on the drive back I could see the DC skyline in the distance. Something about the outline of the Washington Monument and Capitol building always makes my heart skip a beat. There were even cherry trees blooming! Oh DC, why must you tease me so? Part of me really, really wants to work there next year. I want to Metro downtown every morning, reading library books and being part of the commuter hustle. I want to cook dinner for my parents and to see my brothers serve at Sunday Mass.I want to have a young adult church community.  I want to see my old friends on the weekends. Part of me will always be left in the national capital area. Whenever I go back there, life makes more sense and my faith is stronger; I feel safe, optimistic,and  inspired.

Consider the lilies...at Target

It's been a rough week here in thesis-land, especially when I got rejected for a paid summer internship that seemed like the perfect deal. I could have increased skills I already have, I could have worked in DC, I could have lived with my parents and saved buckets of money. But now I won't, and I'm back in the pit of mystery that is the job market.

There are some Bible verses very appropriate for this stage of grad student life

"Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?

(Matthew 6: 25, 31)

 

If God can look after the birds in the sky and clothe the lilies (and spring crocuses) of the field, then surely he will look after those of us foolish enough get advanced degrees in the liberal arts. I'm grateful for the small mercies that have come my way this week, like how I made an appointment today on time despite having to put air in my tires first. Or how when I went to exchange a needed pair of shoes at Target for a smaller size they had been marked down $6. It was like a little pat on the back from God, saying that things are going to be ok.