By Sally Hoban.

On September 3rd (2019), the canopy of one the trees in my yard snapped and crashed down in our yard; it missed the house by a few feet.  In many ways, the breaking of the top of this tree and the fact that it did not damage our house reminds me of my own path through this dark period of my life.  The tree is no longer whole and the top that kissed the sky is now in a woodchip pile somewhere, but thankfully, the tree is still standing, and the damage done to the area where it landed was minimal.  In so many ways, this parallels with me, however, I pray that the damage I have done in the depths of my despair and rage has not damaged beyond repair my relationships with those who love me.

As I start to feel the storm of despair and anger recede, I’m beginning to not feel blinded by the light around me.  No longer do I recoil when I find myself looking out and wondering what next.  No longer do I weep over the yearning to fulfill the call I heard to live out my life as with the congregation I love so much. Yet, I am now able to also acknowledge how painful and agonizing it was to constantly be in the throes of trying to prove my vocation to the decisionmakers within the congregation.  So, how do I learn to live with this conundrum…

For so many months, I banged my head against a wall trying to make sense of all of this.  I went round-and-round trying to make sense of hearing a call from God to pursue my vocation with this congregation and being rejected; blaming myself for being me, wishing I could have been someone the Provincial Team and the Vocation Director would accept; to replaying my mistakes and wondering how they could have been so great as to be summarily dismissed.  I was so in love with God, my vocation and the journey of discernment that I believed nothing could stand in the way of fulfilling this yearning, but something did stand in the way…I was told by the Provincial, “The decision has been made to not continue the discernment with me.”

After the dust settled and I awoke to this reality, I found myself broken and shattered beyond repair.  For the first year, I could barely get through a day without weeping and wishing to die. (Yes, I said it, I wanted to die!) I had spent over 40 years searching for meaning in my life.  When the spark of living my life as a Catholic sister took hold, my whole being lit up.  I found myself living from my heart from the early days of my discernment through the early days of February 2018, when I still believed that Jesus would sweep in rescue me and restore me back to my vocation with the congregation that rejected me.  When I became aware that this was not going to happen, my life became a living nightmare and I rejected God and myself, the self that still believed and hoped for meaning in my life.

A few months ago, I was encouraged to embrace the phrase “fake it until you make it”.  Since I was told this by one of the sisters from the congregation, it stung all the more.  Yet, as the second year of this reality comes to a close, I am aware that in many ways, I have successfully utilized this task.  I am back on my feet, albeit different feet than before, but nonetheless, I am gainfully employed, no longer weeping or lost in turmoil when I reflect on the current status of my life, and beginning to take in my life and contemplate a new path.

Like something that was broken and glued back together is never the same, I too am learning that I am broken and slowly being glued back together.  I believe that Jesus not only has stood by me during this darkest time in my life, but saved me from the darkness that threatened my very existence.  I’m still figuring out how to deal with this, because I am still angry with God over my rejection; however, I no longer have the energy to lash out at God when it arises, instead I find myself desiring to simply be honest by acknowledging this anger, sadness and hurt without losing myself in the depths of this despair.

Somehow though, I don’t want to go back to life before I was broken.  I want to learn how to live from my brokenness.  Can Jesus use my brokenness in God’s great mission?  How can I live with my brokenness without letting it destroy me?  How will Jesus to carry me in a new way?  How might I use this longing to return to my religious vocation with the awareness that it is unlikely that I will return to my religious vocation with that congregation?  Perhaps this leads to the question, do I really want to return to that?

I’ve often reflected upon my friend’s encouragement to write a book about my experience; however, I fear that my recounting of my experience would turn into a negative rant tied with fantastical dreams.  Yet, I would like to utilize my keyboard to gain insight into how I might learn to live from this brokenness.

I’m not sure where this journey is leading me.  So, I am utilizing my need to express myself, my hope to be heard (read) and the prayer that perhaps this might open a new path on this life’s journey….  Living from a place of brokenness…

Addendum

Nearly a year after writing this with COVID-19, these words describe where I was.  Where I am today is somewhere further down the road of discovering who I am and how I might learn from my experiences. While I don’t pine for what was and what isn’t, I wonder where might God be calling me.  The other day my spiritual director reminded me that God isn’t finished with me yet, so I know I am living my next adventure right now.

During prayer, I have been hearing, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”, the line from Mary Oliver’s poem “The Summer Day”.  Some days, I am troubled by the question, as I wonder, what to do?  Other days, I am on a mission to determine what I am called to do.  Today, I realized I am simply living into this moment, and this is my “one wild and precious life”[1].

[1] Oliver, Mary, “The Summer Day” from Dog Songs:  Poems , (Penguin Books, 2015).

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