It’s 10:15 on Friday night. I’m laying in my bed, all snug under 4 blankets that are shielding me from the cold of a winter’s night in North Dakota. I am cold but I am content.
It was about this time last year that I began my applications to volunteer programs in North Dakota and Louisiana. Most people reacted the same to ND, with something along the lines of “What? Really? Are you sure you want to go to ND? It’s really cold up there!” To be honest, I was raising the same questions with God. Why on earth did He have it in His plans to send me all the way to North Dakota? Surely, there were plenty of people in NJ, or at least in warmer, more visitable climates, that I could serve. But when God calls, one must answer.
My time here from August until the end of October was shaky. I was all set to go home in December, ready to write off this time as a failed experiment in immersion. I know my parents, siblings, close friends, and boyfriend were sick of me complaining that St. Ann’s wasn’t the right fit for me. I was upset by the rules, the religion, the people, and the community life. Nothing was as it had seemed it was meant to be.
In October, I went on retreat with members of my own volunteer community and members of the Turtle Mountain community. It was as if God finally smacked some sense into me and something changed. I realized that this was exactly where God wanted me. I had so much growing to do. I had relationships to build. I had to experience life here in North Dakota. New Jersey and all of its comforts could wait.
So I grew. I began to attend almost daily mass. I spent more time in the community and with God. I began to act like me again.
In the weeks before Christmas break, life as a volunteer became more stressful than usual. Work, community life, and the weather began to wear at my heart, and the hearts of the other volunteers. We were tired and needed to get away. Home was welcoming and so rejuvenating.
The past 5 or so weeks of being back had been hard. While the main stress plaguing the volunteers before Christmas was alleviated, I found it difficult to be back. Again, I was longing to be home with my family and boyfriend. My students were misbehaving more than I thought I could handle. My devotion to my prayer life had gone from hot to luke warm. I had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach about being back until the end of May.
But as I left the gymnasium of Turtle Mountain High School tonight, I could only smile. St. Ann’s Players in Progress (PiPs) program had another successful half time show. The kids had wowed another crowd with their ball handling skills and some had stuck around to entertain their own coaches (myself included) and other teachers. My girls had some behavioral improvement this week. Community life, although difficult, is good. Plus, I’ve made some friends out here, even one I trust enough to highlight my hair.
My sister, Kelly, tweeted something today that really made me think. Her company is having an art show for its employees. She half jokingly said it was a reminder of what they could have been. It got me thinking about this year and it reminded me one of the reasons why I’m here. I could be in graduate school or working at some social work agency. I would probably be happy but I would always wonder about what could have been if I pursued my dream of post-grad service. I’m glad I did. I won’t think “what if” in a year, or ten years, or 40 years.
I’ll get back on track with my prayer life. This is the best place to do so. My students and the other students at St. Ann’s remind me daily of God’s goodness. They also remind me to pray.
Broke, vitamin D deficient due to the lack of sun, cold, and hungry for some real pizza, I’m living my dream.
