Chaos, Peace, and "Street Cred"

Now more than ever before in my life I feel like so many things are spinning out of control. My natural urge used to be to try to make some kind of sense of all it, to attempt to control it, or at least organize it in a way that would allow me to understand it.  I have grown accustomed to episodes of chaos. Sometimes there is chaos at home with crazy schedules or a vomiting child or even an inability to understand how to parent away tendencies that I see as weaknesses in my children. Sometimes there is chaos at work. This is not difficult to imagine in a high school setting. The workload becomes too much, the demands of graduating seniors weigh on me, the uncertainty of next year’s class schedule creates anxiety. Sometimes there is chaos in the life I lead after school as a volunteer. A budget is due for the catholic school, enrollment is down, parents have concerns, people want answers.  Yes, I have grown accustomed to operating despite episodes of chaos.   But this doesn’t feel like an episode, it feels like a full blown chaotic finale.

I no longer feel the need to control or manage the chaos, I just want a break from it. I need a break. I have been looking forward to spring break for months. I am a day and a half into spring break and while I have not managed to escape chaos completely, I found peace today. I had planned on staying home and getting “things organized.” I usually find it relaxing to organize in the quiet of my house. But, today I reluctantly decided I would go to mass at 8:45. It was an all school mass at Holy Angels, where my girls go to school. I wanted to have coffee and putz at home alone, but my third grader reminded me that this would be my last chance to go to confession during Holy Week. That’s what I get for sending her to a catholic school.  So I went to mass and planned on staying after to go to confession… with her class.

I dropped the girls off and had ten quiet minutes to myself in church before peace came. It didn’t come in the quiet. It wasn’t there when I was alone. It came as I watched 231 students in uniforms genuflect and take their seats. The music started and their sweet voices filled the church. Then Father Hess began his homily about miracles. He asked the children to define what a miracle was. Hands went up, and he picked Evie Olding to answer. Evie, my nine year old, who has been in trouble since birth for not listening or speaking out of turn. I was certain she didn’t know the answer. In fact, I was convinced that she probably didn’t even hear the question, she just wanted a chance to speak in front of an audience.   To my surprise, she astutely answered “A miracle is when something appears that you can’t explain.” A soon as she said it my nose started to tingle, my cheeks got warm, and the tears came. I couldn’t stop them.  It was a beautiful, cathartic, quiet cry that continued as the children celebrated mass.

I didn’t have the answers to how I should deal with all of the chaos and what my role would be in the solutions that were needed. The anxiety wasn’t completely gone. I knew the chaos would find me again, but I could feel the worry dissipating. I picked up a hymnal and found the page to read the words of the next song so I could sing along.  “Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me, and I will give you rest.” I have sung this song at least a hundred times in my life. However, today the words comforted me in a way that was tangible.  I felt like I was home. I was where I needed to be. The chaos would still be there, but so would He. I need to trust more and worry less. It sounds simple enough, but I have never been good at it.

Mass ended and I parked myself behind the third grade class to wait for my turn in the confessional. Father Dan led the third grade class in an examination of conscience.  He then invited me to go before the children. I went in and sat down so he could hear my confession, I told him about the peace I felt during mass, and I was crying again.  We talked for several minutes and instead of a penance he said “You need to rest and let grace and peace find you.” As I left the confessional I thought again about Evie’s definition. If a miracle is when something appears that you can’t explain, then I feel like that is what I was given today. I found peace in the middle of chaos. I can’t explain it, but I know it was real.

Oddly enough, when I picked Evie up from school… she let me know that her class prayed for me because I was in there for a long time and I came out crying so they figured I must have really done something awful.  Apparently I now have all kind of “street cred” with the third grade class at Holy Angels.