A Qualified Nostalgia

Sometimes, I’m nostalgic for the vigorous spiritual life I pursued in my twenties. What memorable and intense times I had at late-night adoration, daily Mass, and personal prayer. When I was 22, the beginning of Lent and the fact that this Lent is during the Year of Prayer would have had me amped baby. Bring it on! Of course, that might sound a little unusual. Spiritual things are often (and wrongly) associated with passivity. An outside look at serene contemplation, silent reflection, or recited litanies can mask that there’s much more afoot. I think of that gentle tug at Grandma’s heart that she recognized as the Holy Spirit. So, long ago, she went ahead and married Grandpa against her parents’ wishes. Thanks, Grandma! Thanks, Holy Spirit!

Passivity was not the case for me. I “reverted” to my Catholic Faith and dedicated my life to Christ at 20. Side note: I dedicate my life to Christ whenever I worship at Mass and sometimes under my breath while shuttling a truckload of 13-year-olds to school. Back then, though, every prayer was right out loud. Back then, I had what my kids would call serious “main character energy,” which led to some decidedly bad choices in my teen years (excellent dad speech material now), creating an unhappy mess in my life. Disappointment and emptiness followed. But after a lightning bolt encounter with God, I was more “extra” than ever for Jesus, and He met me right there. He gifted me countless profound and undeniable encounters with Christ for at least two years. Jesus moved powerfully in my heart at adoration, Mass, rosary group, bible study, silent prayer, praise and worship, and while I was just walking down the darn street. Which, incidentally, is the setting for that reversion encounter. I won’t go into spiritual consolation or private revelation because explaining these things wasn’t God’s point then, and it’s not mine now. My point is that I was at a point where I was pointingly saying a big, genuine, gnarly “Yes!” to Jesus. He was filling me with His Grace and presence in a way I could neither deny nor ignore. Also, and importantly (ask my lovely wife), He did it in a way I won’t forget while clearly making His point. Jesus loves me. So, I can get a little nostalgic. It was indeed “lit,” and I am grateful.

My nostalgia is for something other than those spiritual high points, though. It’s that my intense “Yes!” can feel far away or like a thing of the past. If I ruminate on the distance of years, I can claim at least a bit of genuine conversion in my life, along with times of struggle to stay near Him. But as far as Jesus loving me since then, that’s altogether different.

God’s intensity is simply “off the chain” compared to mine. That’s another odd thing to say. Honestly, what even is spiritual intensity? Well, after I got married, a.k.a. committed to loving another with Christ’s Love at least as much as I love myself until I die, I began to find out. Time to learn to lose the main character energy and commit my life in Jesus to Renee. She was patient and helped me start to learn. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Renee. In other words, Christ was showing me how I was to respond to His jaw-dropping love for me. I was to give God’s Love to my wife before any other and find Him in our bond. That was intense. It gave me my first real-world taste of a greater purpose, beauty, and meaning. I experienced growing closer to Christ through our marriage. The entire enterprise is a mystery, a gift, an exercise in faith, and a motivator to continually improve. Full disclosure: I’m familiar with the mystery/gift aspect of this calling and very much working on the other parts.

There are four kids in our family; 13 to 25. It is the great privilege of my life to be their dad and to be transformed by their needs, experiences, and individual journeys. Each one is unique and incredible in so many ways. Parenting them with Renee is a Shakespearean tale that continues to write itself with tragedy, intrigue, and plenty of comedy. Because of them, we are wiser, gentler, more patient, better to each other, and usually pretty tired. We are also very proud of each other. We’ve stuck together through some tough stuff and celebrated so much goodness. Best of all, we are more Christlike and closer to Him. The intensity of the spiritual life through my “Yes!” to Jesus, Renee, and our children is beyond my wildest expectations. I never dreamt that I would profoundly mourn losses, thoroughly celebrate triumphs, or be so loved or needed in family life. My small amount of commitment, sacrifice, and prayer was multiplied into something far greater. So, as long as I look back in gratitude and also take a moment to reflect, nostalgia does have its place. It’s a good reminder to keep working on my “Yes!” daily. So, bring on Lent and the Year of Prayer. It’ll be “lit.”