Christians I have known II

Kathy O'Brien was the resident director of my dorm in college.

I used to visit her, and we'd eat and drink and talk about religion. She was the closest thing to an older sister I've ever had. She and I would sit and tell stories until the wee hours of the morning.
Like most freshman, I was a long way away from home. Unlike most freshman, there was no going back for me - so my faith was something I relied on heavily to make it through from day to day.

In Kathy's company, I found a consistent source of renewal for that faith.

She helped me manage my scholarship and aid package - as I had no one else to advise me. She was there to tell me when it might, or might not be appropriate to ask for help. And she gave no small amount of much needed mothering. She was always there at the worst of times, when doubt set in, and reminded me to appreciate the unexpected miracles that came my way.

Times are never easy, and those years in Michigan were particularly harsh. There was double digit unemployment in the county where I went to school. I was working as a waitress, an art model, and a library clerk at the time. I was trying to be self sufficient, but spent a fair amount of time feeling sorry for myself, given the uphill battle I faced and the circumstances I had come from.

Kathy lived by the conviction that human life has meaning, value, and no matter how many false starts we may have - each of us had the opportunity to walk in the master's footsteps. Each in our own way, each of service by our own definition, each able to return to our creator and say we had not wasted the gift of our life.

Not quite so sure of myself, I clung to my optimism like a life raft. Kathy understood that, and when she could, she buoyed that faith so that it would carry me a little bit farther. But she wasn't content to leave me in a state of arrested adolescence.

She once told me a story about a priest that took her class to meet a family of immigrant workers, taking them one of the girl's cast off bicycles. The family was so thrilled with the small gift, and all the children in the family took turns riding the bike, while the girl's in Kathy's class saw the conditions of the immigrant workers, compared to their own lives. They returned week after week, and gradually each of the girls brought such gifts as they could - learning at age 9 or 10 how very fortunate they were, and the beginnings of how to care for others. On the way home from one of the outings, the priest stopped a the bus to move a turtle out of the road.

There was no hubris or pride in the story, just a lesson.

It was part of the reason she served as director for the dorm. It was the beginnings of my awakening to service as a way of life. As her priest shaped her, she now shaped me - gently, by example - not into asking for what I needed from god, but towards asking of god and myself, how I might be of use.

And walking on that path has been a source of growth, frustration and tremendous joy.

It's been said before by better writers than I, but perhaps warrants saying again. Much as this generation has been taught to focus on themselves first, it does not seem to minimize our heartache. We tend to forget our own troubles when we are attending to others. Kathy taught me how much we are for each other, god's hands of comfort, help, hope, and commitment.

When I am most lost, I try to remember that the light comes from that-a-way. If I am feeling hopeless, helpless or useless -- I try to remember to look for where I might be useful.

Being useful is infinitely better than being "happy". When chased, happiness is never "found". Sense of purpose seems to ever give unexpected rewards. Not of gratitude. I find that embarrassing. Just simply being of use, seems to inspire joy. We find community in the company of others. We find our woes in another person's face, and find ourselves wiping away our own tears. We are no longer alone. There is a miracle that takes place in that moment, where we fulfill who and what we can be.

And the shine of it carries us home.