A Life of Significance

I haven’t posted in a long while. Today, I hope this post finds its way into the heart of someone that needs to read it as much as I need to write it.

The past several days have been hard - unbearable at times. I have been on a veritable roller-coaster of everything from laughter, to anger, to deep and profound sorrow. I realize I am not alone in my experience of these emotions. His family, his friends, his staff, his parishioners, and the thousands of acquaintances that knew him are all still in disbelief. How can he be gone? This wasn’t how we all wanted it to be.

I had plans for him – both for our pastoral work together and personally. I was looking forward to so many things. I expected him to be in the office after his recovery saying, “Get back to work!” I also expected him to be on the other end of the phone when I had happy news to share. I’m having trouble reconciling how there won’t be any more all-calls to his office to share a funny story with his staff, and there won’t be any more looong phone calls to talk about anything and everything and nothing all at the same time. While he was a pastor to me, and a boss, he was also a close, supportive (and sometimes mischievous) friend. But this is what has gotten me through and what will continue to sustain me in the days, weeks, months, and years to come:

Monsignor was the type of person who could have, most literally, been anything he wanted to be in life. He was charismatic, intelligent, witty, joyful, driven, humorous, generous. He was successful by any measurable standard. He knew a lot, but he also knew a little bit about everything and everyone. He was an interesting man and surrounded himself with people who kept things interesting for him. He elevated those around him by inspiring excellence and action. He could have been an astronaut, a fireman, a doctor, a president, or a CEO. He could have been a husband and a father. And he would have been incredible at any of those things.

What resonates with me the most is that he embodied his own words of aligning your avocation with your vocation. He practiced exactly what he preached. He listened and responded to a call from God and chose to use his gifts and strengths to live a life of obedience and service to others.  It is because of this that I am certain all of things we learn about and try to live out as Christians – as Catholics – are undeniably the Truth. Because if a man like him, who could have been anything, dedicated his whole heart and soul to the Good News of Christ … I find that to be a wondrous and amazing thing.

I have struggled for close to two years now with my personal relationship with God. I considered myself to be a faithful woman and I always had hope and believed there was a reason for everything in life. But a couple years ago things just started to fall apart somehow. I didn’t like the feeling of being out of control, so I really would just wake up some days and go through the motions. I felt insecure, small, and unworthy. The irony of that is not lost on me. You would expect that someone who works for the Church would not feel that way, but I did. And I’ve been asking for a way back. I’ve prayed and begged for something to pull me back in and to experience the closeness again that I once felt. I longed for the certainty that even if I wasn’t in control, I could trust Him to be. And thinking about Monsignor in this way – knowing that he was so utterly confident in the Eucharist, and in our hope as an Easter people – it’s been an epiphany of sorts. You know how sometimes he would give a homily and talk about a hundred different things? Yet, we would all hear and find meaning in different parts of it feel like he was talking directly to us? That is this. He is doing that now. With me. With you. With all of us.

Those who knew him well might think he wasn’t all too humble. He was loud, he was direct, and he could certainly command an audience. But his humility lies in this: He knew that he was only a great leader because he surrounded himself with people that made him look good. Working with staff and ministry leaders, we have joked these past few days about how he must be keeping a “raised eyebrow” right now, watching all of us running around trying to make sure things happen just so, in the ways he would have wanted. It’s as if this is one last big test for us. But we’ve also acknowledged that he is the reason we are prepared to pull off the monumental task of coordinating all of the things we are juggling right now. The relationship he had with those he worked closely with has always been mutually beneficial in the way that “iron sharpens iron.” He has imposed seemingly impossible directives at times, but as a parish and community, we have always risen to the occasion. He did this to make St. Pius the Tenth exceptional. Not for himself, but for everyone else. And we are all better for it.

Most of us in the office have our “Top 5 Strengths” posted somewhere. I always loved that he and I shared one of our top five – Significance – and it is one of the rarest. People with this strength want their work to be a way of life rather than just a job. We are aware that living life to the fullest requires sacrifice and authenticity. Monsignor knew there was an importance in acknowledging and recognizing the efforts of others, and when he was in the presence of those who shared his passions, he became connected to a vision that transcended his time on earth and tapped into building a legacy. Right now, his death seems confusing, and I am wrestling with it as much as anyone. But I know that he is at peace. He is not in pain. And he has left us with a legacy – not of anything tangible, but one of significance and purpose. He was larger than life while he was with us, and I am sure if there is any way for him to make an impact beyond this earth, he will find a way.

I am struggling with how to conclude this post. I want to write more. I could write a book. So, I will turn to words from a book by Alexandre Dumas that is anything but final: “All human wisdom is contained in these two words, ‘wait and hope’.”  We can wait when we acknowledge the hope that we have in Christ, in the Resurrection. We can anticipate and look forward to what God holds for us in His plans. But with trust in His plans also comes trust in His timing. While the timing of this loss will probably take us all more time to process, it is the gift of time that God is giving us to reflect on a life well-lived, a period of waiting for what is next, and a future filled with hope.

“We know that all things work for good for those who love God,

who are called according to his purpose.” 

Romans 8:28