Friday, August 17, 2018

The Famous Question

I have had one of the most adventurous summers of my life. It started with a single phone call from a young woman named Emily Cunningham. After tracking me down through a list of phone numbers she had received, Emily finally got a hold of me at my new place of residency. When I answered the phone I started trying to imagine all the reasons I might be receiving a call from someone I did not know. "I was given your name by Father Tom Sparacino," she said. "My friends and I have been asking around about a Sister who could join us for a camping retreat." My heart started pounding. A camping retreat?! Never mind that I had only gone camping like twice in my life, I was being invited to a camping retreat! Well, it didn't take long for me to rearrange my vacation, despite the fact that I had to cancel a surprise trip for my baby sister's 13th birthday. (It sounds terrible of me, I know, BUT ... spoiler alert ... it all worked out in the end.)

Every activity we took part in during camp was discussed during a debriefing time when campers and camp leaders would talk about the day's events in light of their relationship with God, themselves, or others. It reminded me of the question that so many spiritual directors love to ask: "Where did you see God in this?" The famous question.

As I ponder my many trips and adventures, that continues to be my guiding question. During the camp - named Camp Lajas after the Colombian miracle of Our Lady of Las Lajas - we had a chance to go hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, and rafting. I was forever gaining insights from the campers and camp leaders, but also coming to my own insights as I processed the experience for myself. In order to continue processing the experiences, I am sharing them with you here and hopefully it can help you ask the same question for yourself about your own summer activities: Where did you see God?

On Sunday, July 22nd, Emily's wonderful mom gave me a ride up to Muskrat Cove at Moraine State
Park where I met the rest of the retreat leaders. We cooked, cleaned, set up tents, put together an outdoor chapel, laughed, ate, took pictures, and got ready for the eight retreatants who arrived the next day. They were young women in all levels of high school and from different areas of the Diocese of Pittsburgh. They all looked nervous when they showed up Monday since most of them did not know each other or the camp leaders, but it was easy to see that they were all excited to be there. I was excited too, except for the white water rafting we'd be doing on Thursday. I was not excited for that.

Rock climbing - it's not as easy as it looks
When we went rock climbing on Tuesday, the instructors were great and gave tons of good tips as they explained the difficulties and rewards of rock climbing. I looked up at the tall rock walls they had chosen for us and couldn't wait to give rock climbing a try. We had two options, so I went to the wall that had more edges and crevices since it looked like more fun to climb. When it was my turn, I put the harness on and happily started my ascent. I wish I could say I never looked back, but I could barely hang on after I'd gone up only two feet! I gracefully fell off the wall and had to start again. I think that's when I lost my confidence, because after that I began to second guess everything. It took me so much time and effort to consider my next move that I was getting frustrated. My arms were getting tired and every crevice seemed too far away for me to grasp. When I made it about halfway up the wall, the instructor simply called out to me, "Trust yourself!" It was like a movie moment, when everything is suddenly still and your spidey senses are heightened. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I had been relying on the strength of my wobbly arms when the instructors had clearly told us in the beginning to rely on our legs. "Most beginners think they need to use their arms to get themselves up, but all the work should really be in your legs." Of course, I thought to myself, Why would I rely on my arms anyway? They've always been the weakest part of my body. My strength has always been in my legs. It was like I suddenly realized that God had already given me the strength I needed, I just had to trust in it.

I read the book I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai and it reminds me of something she said the doctor had told her father when the hospital was getting ready to transfer her for recovery after she was shot. Her father had expressed gratitude in the fact that God had sent those specific doctors to his daughter's aid right when she needed them most. The doctor, Dr. Javid Kayani, replied, "It is my belief God sends the solution first and the problem later" (pg. 269). It felt the same for me - although in much less drastic circumstances - God had already given me a solution. The solution was my strong dancer legs, so instead of trying to come up with my own solution by using my arms, I needed to trust that God had already equipped me for the task at hand. I saw a clear parallel in my rock climbing adventure with implications for daily life: I have already been given certain strengths with which to navigate this life, and I'll only be able to find my way if I use them.

When Thursday came around I woke up with a pounding headache and thought perhaps it was a sign. As you may recall from my post about the Holy Land, drowning is one of my biggest fears, so with a headache on white water rafting day I figured it meant I shouldn't go since I might not make it out alive. I seriously considered staying behind and had an interior battle before getting into the van. I thought, If I don't go I'll miss out on time with the campers. Maybe I won't die. Maybe I'll be fine. No, this headache is terrible. I won't be fine. I'm going to die. Even with that conclusion, I somehow convinced myself to line up for the van.

Halfway to our destination, we missed our exit on the highway. Usually you can just turn around without too much of a change in your estimated time of arrival, but not on white water rafting day. Once the GPS rerouted us we got 30 minutes added to our trip. Instead of arriving right on time at noon, we were now going to be a half hour late. To me, that was another sign. Emily gasped in a panic. "They'll leave without us!" she said. "The paperwork clearly states that if we don't get there on time, the group will leave without us." She sat in shock for a moment as I silently thanked God that we missed our exit. This must mean I was going to die! Now we're definitely not going white water rafting. Thank You, Lord. "Wait," Emily said, "I'll just call and tell them we missed our exit. Maybe they'll understand." She made the phone call and the very kind woman on the other end said they would wait. I was disappointed. So there's a chance we'll make it, I thought. Great.

When we finally got rerouted it seemed that all was going smoothly until suddenly the tires on the van screeched and the wheel locked. The camp leader who was driving slowed down, pulled over to the side of the road and took the keys out of the ignition. We sat for a moment, wondering what could have possibly happened and I uttered another silent sigh of relief. We're definitely not going to get there now! Woo hoo! Our driver tried restarting the van, but it fought back while I tried to fight back my smile. She tried it again, but to no avail. I held my breath on the third try and suddenly it started. Ugh. But I was still holding out hope that we would not get there in time.

Nope, we were on time. Figures, I thought. Now all I can hope for is that I don't die. Please, God, don't let me die.

As the guides were giving their instructions, I practiced every move they described. I tightened my life jacket until I could hardly breathe, just as they suggested, and we set off for the rapids. Our group was split up into three rafts and I ended up with four teenagers and only one adult who had been white water rafting just once before. She was younger than me. I looked at my crew and thought, Yup, today is the day. My earthly pilgrimage is over.


We started out nice and slow in our bright yellow raft. There were about five other rafts on the trip with us, plus a rescue raft and our two guides in their kayaks. The river was moving pretty quickly, but didn't seem too threatening. It was almost like an exciting lazy river ride. Our guides called out directions, telling us what was up ahead and explaining whether we should stay to the middle, left, or right. As soon as we hit our first rapid, I was immediately in love! I couldn't wait for the next one! We went a total of 7.4 miles downstream that day, and at the halfway point we all stopped for a lunch break. Plenty of people had fallen out of their rafts during the first half of the trip, but none of us in my raft had. We were so proud of ourselves and our great teamwork! We had almost tipped over once, with water rushing in as we slumped halfway off a rock, but we had narrowly avoided the disaster and used it as an excuse to build our pride.

Once we got back in the water we were feeling more confident and were happy to know we still had another few miles of rapids left. At one point, one of the guides was explaining that there was a hydraulic ahead. He said, "This is the spot where plenty of rafts get flipped! You need to watch out and make sure you avoid it. If not, then hit it straight on and with as much speed as you can, because if you're turned sideways or going too slowly, your whole raft will flip over." We listened intently and followed the group along as we watched for this infamous hydraulic. When our guide shouted that it was just ahead, we saw it, but there was nowhere to go. There was a raft on our right and a bunch of rocks to our left - we were headed straight for it. Without enough time to fight the swift pace of the river, the nose of our raft turned and we were headed slowly toward the hydraulic at a crawling pace, exactly the way we were not supposed to. It all happened just like our guides had explained during the instructions, "If you fall out, everything will go dark and wet." It sure did. Dark and wet, I thought. Yup. But then I remembered his next words, "Don't panic. You'll float right back up to the surface. Just stay calm." I paddled my arms a bit as I came up and then there I was, back in the sunlight. I stayed calm, just as he said, because I realized that there were rules in place to keep me safe, so as long as I followed those rules I would be just fine. His words kept coming to me, "Once you come back to the surface, make sure you get your legs pointed downstream. Don't try to swim, and don't try to stand either. There are plenty of rocks and crevices your feet could get stuck in. Just get your feet pointed downriver and float." I realized my head was pointed downriver, and even though we were wearing helmets, I still didn't like the idea of hitting my helmetted head on a rock. I turned myself around and floated downriver with my feet out in front of me. I grabbed two of the paddles floating next to me and marveled at just how calm I was. Eventually the guys in the rescue boat reached out and pulled me over using the paddles I was holding. They quickly took hold of my life-jacket and pulled me up by it. I was so glad I had tightened it just like the guides said, otherwise I would have slipped right out. After that, they gave our paddles back and promptly returned us to our raft.

When we were talking about the rafting trip afterward, my little crew was still in awe over the experience. Almost all of us had loved it - even the falling out part - but one girl from our raft said she had been terrified the whole time. However, when our raft flipped, she explained that her consolation came from the fact that there were others in the water with her. I hadn't thought about that aspect, but I realized when she said it that it had been a consolation for me as well. I was comforted by the fact that I wasn't the only person adrift, but that my whole team was with me. I joked later that our teamwork was the best because we were either all in the raft together, or we were all in the water together.

It made me think about how important it is for us to be with people during their time of need. Of course we need people there to pull us out of the water when it's time, but we often need to feel like people are with us in the water. When I'm feeling upset or distraught about a personal situation, I don't always need saviors. Sometimes I just need someone who will say, "I understand. I'm here. I'm with you in this. We'll get out together."

These are just some of the places where God showed up for me at Camp Lajas: in learning to trust the gifts God has given me; in better understanding what it means to work as a team; and in realizing just how important it is to be at the side of those who feel alone in their struggles. So, back to the famous question: Where did you see God in this... summer / post / year ? If you want to know where God is at work in your life, this question is a good place to start.

Wishing you peace and plenty of adventures,
Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay



Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Bring Me Your Sick and Suffering

I have been in Haiti for a little over a week now, and today I experienced a Gospel story in real life. You know how Jesus would walk the streets and visit different towns and neighborhoods? He would kneel down and ask what was ailing an individual, and then people who saw and heard about His miraculous touch would desperately seek His help.

Today was my first time walking with a team of student nurses through the small neighborhoods of Jacmel, Haiti. We were lead by Sister Marilyn who had visited a few people the day before and promised a return visit. They were all waiting outside on their porches and steps when we arrived, eager to receive help from this group of healers. You could see the hope in their eyes and the excitement as they called on their children and grandchildren to search for chairs, offering a place for the nurses to sit. Sister Marilyn translated as people shared their aches and pains, burdened by illnesses they couldn’t understand or afford. People would stand around and listen, curious and watchful, but then more people would start to show up, just like they would with Jesus. We would finish with one person, and then someone would lift up their child onto the porch - “She doesn’t have an appetite,” they would say, concerned for their little one. The team of nurses would then discuss the possibilities as Sister Marilyn translated their questions. After granting small doses of medication, another neighbor would bring their elderly mother. “She has terrible headaches,” they’d tell us, and then all would watch, amazed, as the nurses checked blood pressure, took temperature, and pulled bottles of medication out of their bags.

We were almost finished with one home visit in particular when the small crowd parted to let a young man come through. We all winced as he walked up the steps, slowly and carefully, suffering from what looked like road burn. It turned out he had been near a propane tank when it exploded, leaving burns and blisters on his arm and face. The student nurses quickly began surveying the damage. After gathering all the necessary information, they cleaned the open skin with peroxide, then gently applied antibiotic ointment to the affected areas. When it was particularly painful, the young man would close his eyes, but his face was still covered with signs of relief, knowing that he was getting the help he needed.

As I observed the nurses and their patients, it was like watching people flock to Jesus; people with a hope big enough for miracles.


Friday, April 27, 2018

JOY: Jesus, Others and You


Busy Busy Busy!
I just wanted to share a wonderful experience I had last week in Henderson, KY. I was there from Sunday, April 15th through Sunday, April 22nd visiting a variety of schools and sharing my vocation story.

You may be wondering just how I ended up going to a little city out in the country. To find out, read on!

Last summer, I had the chance to speak at the 12th National Black Catholic Congress in Orlando, FL, where I also proclaimed the reading during Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of Mary Queen of the Universe.

The group traveled together to and from Mass on a bus, and it was on this bus that I met Father Anthony Shonis. After some lively conversation, Father Shonis extended the invitation that eventually brought me to the Diocese of Henderson, KY.

While in Kentucky, I had a full itinerary - I spoke the night I arrived, every day thereafter, and then again on the very morning I left. I met with groups of all ages at schools across the diocese. My youngest audience included pre-kindergarten, but I also spoke with children in elementary, middle, and high school.

Teaching the little ones a chant with some movement!
I always shared my story first, talking about where I grew up and how I met the Felician Sisters. Then I talked a bit about religious life, explaining the vows and the difference between nuns and sisters, as well the difference between Franciscans, Dominicans, and Benedictines. I would then ask the kids a few questions, sometimes rewarding them with a knotted rosary I had made when they answered correctly - or even sometimes when they answered creatively, even if it wasn't the answer I was looking for. :)

After my story and explanations, I allowed time for the kids to ask me questions. I received excellent questions from every grade, including some interesting ones such as "What happens if you break the vows?"; "What do you think you would be doing right now if you weren't a sister?"; and "How do you pay for all of your travels?"

Me with the Youth Group at Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church
My favorite question, however, came on the last day. After Mass, I spoke with the kids who came from the public schools for religious education. It was a mixed group, so there were children from elementary to high school present. When I finished speaking and invited questions from the students, a little boy in the front row raised his hand high and asked, "Is all of this true?" I held my laughter in behind a great big smile and said, "It is, actually! It's pretty much my whole life story all in one very short presentation." He stared at me in awe as I continued answering some other very good questions.
Posing with my new little friends at John Paul II Catholic School
After all of the questions had been asked and answered during my presentation, I did one of two things. With the lower grades - usually kindergarten through fifth grade - I would teach the students a chant with some movements I had made up. The kids had a great time, jumping up and down and using their 'outside' voices even though they were inside. One of the teachers came to me afterward and said, "That was great! We're going to use that as opening prayer from now on!"

With the middle and high school students, I would do something a little different. I had some choreography prepared that went with a popular song all the students knew, so it was a nice surprise for them to see I could dance. The older kids loved it! They started bouncing around as soon as the song came on, but they also had a great time learning the dance and competing to see who could do it best. I received several compliments afterward, from both middle and high school students, and sometimes even from their teachers who had gotten up and tried the dance, too. At one point, Father Anthony Shonis even tried learning the dance!
Teaching a dance I choreographed for the upper grades

Near the end of my time in Kentucky, I was blessed to be able to speak at the annual Black Catholic gathering for the diocese of Henderson. The day began with breakfast and Mass, followed by a short Q&A session with the bishop.

Afterward, everyone moved to the parish hall where I spoke with the small group of about 20 people in attendance. The theme was "Missionary Discipleship from a Multicultural Perspective: Effective Inclusion." I shared my story and focused on how God has been able to break barriers in and around me simply through my "Yes."

Explaining that it was not necessarily my intent to break these barriers, I shared that now I know it was God's intent and that my choice to follow His will is what allows me to be a voice for the minorities I represent. Several of the individuals shared their own difficult stories about racism and prejudice, explaining that they had been mad at God, wondering why He would make them "like this" (African American/black) if it meant they were going to be mistreated.

In the course of the sharing, many individuals expressed their gratitude for groups and events like the Black Catholic gathering because it gave them the opportunity to have a place in the Church. As the presentation came to a close, I thanked the group for their invitation and for their sharing. I explained, "I fall into many minority groups - I'm a minority as a woman of color; I'm a minority as a woman of color who's Catholic; I'm a minority as a young sister; I'm a minority as a young sister who's black; so a lot of people have begun turning to me, asking for my opinions. They see me and say, 'There are not many of you. We want to know what you think.' Now that you have shared your stories, I will join your voices with mine so we can speak together when people ask me what I think."

Me & some attendees from the Black Catholic gathering
in Henderson, KY
I can hardly express the joy and beauty I experienced in Kentucky. It confirmed the hopes I'd had when I first began to contemplate religious life seriously - hopes that God would use my gifts and life for a purpose, and that my relationship with God and the world around and within me would deepen.

I can only describe it in this way: I felt as if I were being lifted to God by all of my Felician Sisters at once; like I was in the middle of a wonderful celebration where all at the same time I was learning, loving, and laughing. It was like looking up at the sky right when the shooting star made its appearance; like knowing I am right where I am meant to be.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

An Easter Challenge

Every liturgical season has its own flavor — Advent with its anticipation; Christmas with its awe and wonder; Easter with its beauty and excitement — so every year we are able to enter into a rhythm as one body of Christ. Sometimes a certain liturgical season will be particularly potent for me and I will discover new insights or come to better appreciate long-lasting traditions. I did not have that experience this Lent. Instead, it was a steady and balanced season without any “aha moments” or extraordinary prayer experiences. To be honest, I was sort of disappointed. I thought, “Well this doesn’t feel like Lent. Lent is supposed to be deeply spiritual. Shouldn’t I be crying at Mass or something?” But my experience of Lent doesn’t have to be the same every year, and just because I cried at Mass before, or I’ve seen other people cry at Mass, doesn’t mean it’s a requirement. So what did I get out of Lent this year if it wasn’t tears? A very simple invitation with a very practical way to implement it. The invitation? Let go. The implementation? I’ll explain.

This September I moved from California to Pennsylvania. I sent some of my items ahead and others I took with me on a cross-country drive with my dad. Once we got to my new home, I took everything to my room and had it organized and put away within a couple of days. This January, I volunteered to move to another neighborhood, not far from my new home, in order to maintain a Felician presence in a place where the locals need a little extra love. Rather than move all my items at once, I took my time and transferred things over a period of two weeks. I spent a few final nights in my empty room before finally making the move to my new house. During those nights and days in my room where there was absolutely nothing on the walls and I had only the bare essentials in my drawers, it was as if I could focus better. My mind was clearer, I had more energy, I was not as easily distracted, and I was more attentive to my prayer life. It was like what I imagine fasting does for the body. When I made the transition and came to my new house, there was my room, full of items on the walls and on the shelves just like it had been at the other house. Now don’t get me wrong, I like my colorful room — it’s very cozy! — but I also realized just how much I could really let go of. There are a variety of areas in our lives where letting go is essential, but I have begun to focus on the material aspect first. I think it helps create the atmosphere that makes the act of letting go more possible in other areas of our lives, just as my empty room helped clear space in my mind and heart.

As I further reflected on the invitation to “let go” during Lent, I came to see that it is not just about letting go of items I have and donating them or sharing them with a loved one, but also actively working to not accumulate. In addition, it even means letting go of the familiar and of the ways in which I do things if they are harmful to others or the environment. So, I promised you a practical implementation for the invitation... Here it is! Soap containers. Yes, that’s what I’m being invited to let go of. You know those small Softsoap or Bath and Body Works hand soaps that last about a month? Well, here’s my challenge to you and to me: to decrease or eliminate the amount of plastic going into our landfills starting with soap containers. I know, I know, the smaller soap containers are easy and convenient: there’s no mess in refilling the soap container and you get a variety of scents and colors when you get to choose a different one every month. But why not let go of what’s convenient and save the planet from some of that plastic? We could buy refillable hand soap dispensers and refill them from a larger container. Or, to eliminate plastic all together, we could purchase bars of soap that come packaged in cardboard, paper, or not packaged at all. Then we can keep them in a wooden or glass dish by the sink and voila, no plastic! If you already do this, I applaud you, but perhaps there’s another way in which you can eliminate your use of plastic; maybe by pledging not to use straws, by choosing products with less plastic packaging, or by using a refillable water bottle.

It’s simple, but I believe that by letting go in this very practical way, we will find ourselves moved beyond the world of material goods. Perhaps up until now we have been like Peter, warming his hands by the fire as Jesus was being tormented and ridiculed — we have been thinking of ourselves and what’s convenient while the planet and our sisters and brothers in Christ have been crying out in pain; but it wasn’t too late for Peter, and it’s not too late for us (John 18:25). As we celebrate the great joy of the resurrection this Easter, may we let go of all that keeps us from being open to God and to one another. May our courage be strengthened and our hearts be made new. Let’s aim for increased mindfulness and decreased plastic, amen? Amen.



Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

Monday, January 8, 2018

Perfection

There is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein which says, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." I agree with this and I do my best to live the latter. However, I think we could also replace the word "miracle" with the word "perfect" and say, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is perfect. The other is as though everything is perfect."

I remember receiving a painting from my aunt as a child that was titled, "Everything is Perfect". It bothered me. I didn't like the title, or that it was always staring at me from underneath the small image. I didn't agree with it at all. "Some things are perfect," I thought, "but not everything." I think about that little painting's title now though, and I have actually come to agree with it.

Even the most "perfect" things - like Barbie's measurements or a beautiful Christmas snowfall - have their issues. For one, hardly any woman who has ever walked or will ever walk this earth shares Barbie's measurements. Plus, her measurements only match what a random handful of people believed to be the perfect female body. As for the "winter wonderland" of snow on Christmas, it may look beautiful, but it requires a lot of work. So which is it? Are Barbie's measurements flawed or perfect? Would we rather have snow on Christmas or not?

"Be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect," reads a line from Matthew 5:48. Seems impossible, right? I always thought so. Every time I heard that reading I thought, "Seriously? How could I ever match the perfection of God?" But the more I think about it, the more curious I become about God's perfection. What is God's perfection like? My first inclination is to think about physical characteristics and personality traits, but then I stop trying to measure God by human standards. Rather than look at God in terms of height or weight or behavior, I look at God in terms of forgiveness and compassion and kindness. I think that's the type of perfection we're called to - to forgiveness, compassion, and kindness. So maybe we overeat, or maybe we're chain smokers and workaholics, but can we bring ourselves to forgive when we're hurt? Can we show compassion when it would be easier to settle for condemnation? Do we choose to be kind when we see someone in need or when we find ourselves in an argument?

This reminds me of my favorite character from the movie Silence by Martin Scorsese (I'll try not to spoil it for you in case you haven't seen it). It was about a couple of young Jesuit priests who went to Japan in search of their Jesuit mentor who seemed to have gone missing. In the process they were faced with a very harsh political, cultural, and religious clash. This caused painful tragedies and spiritual torment throughout the Christian community in Japan. Continually forced to choose between life and death, several Japanese Christians were martyred for refusing to renounce their faith. Very few Japanese Christians renounced their faith and many faced their persecution bravely, but there was one individual in particular who found it impossible to follow their example - his name was Kichijiro. A Japanese Christian and a drunk, Kichijiro renounced his faith every time he encountered this difficult decision. I couldn't stand him, especially when I compared him to the other brave Christians who clung to God and their faith despite the consequences. Kichijiro fell into despair and drunkenness throughout the entire movie, repeatedly renouncing his faith, but I began to notice something - every time he renounced his faith, he desperately sought out the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He failed constantly, but at the same time he constantly acknowledged his wrongdoing and trusted wholeheartedly in the mercy of God.

While it's true that the Japanese Christian martyrs and all who have died for their faith are worthy of admiration, I believe Kichijiro is as well. For those of us who cannot be as steadfast as martyrs in our own Christian commitment, we can choose to seek forgiveness just as Kichijiro did. We can wholly seek holiness, which can sometimes mean repeatedly failing and wholly seeking forgiveness. There is more than one way to God - and thus, more than one way to perfection.

I realized that when I stopped comparing Kichijiro to the martyrs, I was able to see him for who he was and accept his unique albeit wobbly path to holiness. It is the same for each of us; when we quit with the comparisons, we can see ourselves and our situations more fully and with greater understanding. So maybe we happen to be in great shape, with measurements even better than Barbie's; or maybe we don't take care of our health as best we should, but by acknowledging our weakness and striving to do better, we cancel out our imperfect measurements. As for the beautiful blanket of snow at Christmas, even such a masterpiece is not without its challenges. So do we start cursing the beauty of winter? We may be tempted to, but the thorn does not have to detract from the rose. So, enjoy the snow! Recall your childhood wonder at the falling flakes and take a day or two off if you can. And if you have to go to work, use shoveling the sidewalk as a good excuse for exercise and shovel the neighbor's sidewalk while you're at it. Like a line from the movie Wonder by Stephen Chbosky, "Auggie can't change the way he looks. Maybe we can change the way we see." Maybe we can change the way we see.

Try not to look at your body vs. Barbie's or Ken's, or at the snow vs. its aftermath; if we dwell on the imperfections, nothing will be perfect. Let everything be perfect in its own right. Look in the mirror less and look more at the perfection of God. Do you choose patience? Or do you frown at the sky when the snow falls? Will you choose self-control? Or will you blame your boss for the dark circles under your eyes? If we acknowledge our shortcomings for the sake of learning to better love ourselves and others, we can live more fully. If we seek to imitate God's perfection with the fervor of Kichijiro, we will be able to show God's perfection with the heart of a martyr.