It has been one hot month or so since my last post, and I have to say that I have been rather busy. A good number of things happened, in no particular order or sequence that would be consequential -- the Christmas holiday, family gatherings that go with Christmas and whatnot, a bit of a head cold, and *moving*.
I have moved so much in 2019. I have literally been all over the map of the heavily-debated Central Jersey area, South Jersey, and Philadelphia.
- January: Parish “A” to Seminary
- April: Seminary to Parish “A”
- April: Parish “A” to Seminary
- May: Seminary to Parish “A”
- June: Parish “A” to Seminary
- June: Seminary to Parish “A” (for less than 24 hours)
- June: Parish “A” to Parish “B”
- July: Parish “B” to Retreat House
- July: Retreat House to Parish “A”
- July/August: Parish “A” to Parish “C” (The Big Move)
- August: Parish “C” to Seminary
- December: Seminary to NJ
And I still have stuff in storage that I will need to relocate to a storage unit, I have the bare minimum with a few exceptions with me, and I am fairly mobile these days.
I know I ranted before about having to move (https://steemit.com/life/@phoenix32/the-summer-of-many-moves), and I was rather grateful when I landed in Parish “C” with not only a roof over my head, but with even better accommodations than I had in Parish “A” or even Parish “B”. Suffice to say that I was quite content, and it was great that I didn’t have to really worry too much about my stuff disappearing or unwanted 4- and 6-legged visitors or having to move again until the end of the semester in December.
Boy, have the last few months proven to be anything but predictable.
Let’s start with what I am calling the “Bombshell of October ‘19”. Taking time away from the seminary was not my first choice, and while I was initially upset, shocked, and frightened by the idea of it, and I was certainly not enamored with my sabbatical being involuntary, I rapidly became OK with the idea and even embraced it. I could feel the weight being lifted off my shoulders, and the inclinations and impulses that had become damn near difficult to govern were almost non-existent.
The pressure was off.
Please allow me to clarify something here for a moment. The “Bombshell of October ‘19” was not the fact that I was told to take time off from Formation and studies -- no, frankly, that was a good call and some good thinking on the part of the seminary. The “Bombshell” is that my home diocese did nothing, has done nothing, and will continue to do nothing to assist me aside from the bare minimum. I have been cut off and I am *persona non grata* for at least two years. No one has called to check in on me at all. Which is not to say that no one called me -- the director’s secretary called me about sending me a donation check that had come in my name. However, by the time it would have reached me at the seminary, I would have been long gone and *no longer a seminarian*. As it stood, I had her send it to my parents’ house while I established my mailing address, and the day it arrived was my absolute very last day as a seminarian for this diocese.
But not one phone call, not one text, not one email from the director himself.
And it isn’t like I am unreachable… There are 2 phone numbers that handle voice and text, 2 email addresses, a mailing address and landline at my parents’ house, and hell, I even have iMessage since I run some Apple hardware. One of the phone numbers is linked to all of my devices, so if one was to call me, *every single computer, tablet, and phone* would light up like the gorram 4th of July to let me know that I, indeed, have an incoming call or text message.
Being honest and fair, I highly doubt that I would take the director’s call right now. I would sit on it, call him back when I felt like it, maybe play some phone tag. I just don’t want to have a conversation with him, *per se*, but it would be great to know that he actually gave a flying crap about me and was trying.
But as Captain Mal Reynolds stated:
So where were we? Oh, yes, the “Bombshell” and the subsequent “Fallout of ‘19”. The Fallout is not as bad as I thought it was going to be. My siblings and the sibs-in-law have all been supportive and caring, my parents have been understanding, and I have a job -- not just something lined up or in the works, but I have actually been on the job for 4 solid days. I’m back in the saddle, doing IT work, and loving it. I am flexing old muscles that I have not used for a while. And gorram, does it feel good.
Not that seminary life and the academics did not feel good, mind you. I managed to complete my semester this Fall to the satisfaction -- and a bit of a pleasant surprise -- of the faculty. 3.41 GPA, made it to all of the major events and even coordinated the Christmas Concert, which I assure you is a **massive deal**, and helped to tech out for the *Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe*. Oh, and for the last community dinner, I didn’t even get to sit down -- I was on the serving team that night. How’s that for a send-off? I’m not even being sarcastic or sardonic here, I am actually happy that it worked out like it did, because it gave me an opportunity to prove to *myself* that, despite being in the throes of some pretty heavy depression, I could still knock it out of the park.
I have to, not out of obligation but rather gratitude, commend the seminary on their efforts to help me. There were some hiccups with communication between them and me at first, particularly with regards to my arrival there in ‘17. There were some who listened, others who acknowledged, and others still who welcomed and sought to understand. By the end, there was nothing but support and concern for the state of my health and my depression. It was not based out of the idea of liability or accountability, their concern comes from a genuine place of Christian love and caring. I made a few promises to keep in touch with many of the priests and professors, and I harbor no ill will towards them; just the opposite, in point of fact, as most of them are caring, supportive, nurturing, and everything that one would expect from a Christian environment.
And even if I was to harbor ill will towards the director of seminarians for my home diocese, that would not bother him much at all; more to the point, I think he would revel in it, and use it as proof that he made the right decision to cut me off at the knees.
Not only will I not give him that satisfaction, I rather value my soul and I don’t need the hatred and negativity to eat away at me. And while I am struggling with some of it sometimes, I have days that I find myself just rutting annoyed about it, I have to say that I am still able to do some good out here on this side of the seminary gates, so there is something to be said for keeping on the proper course here.
I’m finding that, as my brother seminarians were scheduled to report back for their retreats yesterday afternoon, I am actually more than OK about not joining them. Sure, I could use the retreat, the quiet, the time for introspection and for prayer. But I also need my people -- my parents, my sibs and sibs-in-law and their kids, and my friends who are as much brothers and sisters to me as my own via biology. It is great to touch base with my people, to be around to do local work on my family’s home networks and computers, and to rebuild that which has deteriorated over time -- my own self and sense of self-worth.
So here’s the being back in the saddle. Here’s to a solid income and a chance to be out in the ‘Verse again for a spell, wandering and roaming and yet staying connected to the people and places that matter most to me. And here’s to keeping my head above water, no matter what.
hiveblocks