Happy (almost) 2018, readership! I hope your 2017 has been fruitful, and I pray that our blessings continue to multiply over the next year!
Post-AIT graduation; on the bus back to the barracks, and freedom (sort of)
2017 has been one heck of a ride. With the completion of BCT and AIT in January, I'm now drilling with my unit back home in Illinois. I got my first full-time job, and I'm currently taking classes for an online certificate which I'm paying for out of pocket. It's not much as of now, but I'm glad I have some sort of foundation established. With a regular source of income, I'm able to provide some degree of financial assistance to my family back home, and also support my parish at St. John the Baptist.
I'm looking forward to what I've planned so far for 2018. As I stated earlier, I just booked my flight to the Philippines to visit family in January. It's the shortest that I'll be staying there (only one week), but I'll be sure to make the most of it! On the way back, I have a 15-hour layover in Seoul, South Korea, so I'm definitely planning on catching up with a couple of battle buddies stationed there as well. Two birds with one stone. ;)
Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana
Halfway through February, I'll be flying into Pittsburgh to visit the Byzantine Catholic Seminary of Sts. Cyril and Methodius. Having recently transferred into the Melkite Greek Catholic Church (see this old post for context), I've been wanting to go further in my vocational discernment by seeing what it's like for our current seminarians (please pray for them, by the way!). I haven't made any solid decisions, but I'm excited for this adventure in particular!
Chicago Open Air 2017
I haven't received any decisions on my current application for graduate school, but I'm hoping that I'll get an answer sometime by spring. With help from my old professors and a few others, I've applied for a master's program in teaching history at UIC. As the current owner of a bachelor's in history, I've wanted to advance my education so I can be qualified to teach high school history. In addition, should I be accepted, I hope to contact the ROTC program at UIC to knock out my commission as well.
Luke Skopwalker outside of the 330th Homestead! (Miss you, buddy!)
This is currently my agenda for next year, but things may or may not change up. There's always that one episode in between that could prove to be a sudden plot twist. But I'm not too intimidated by that; I could use a good surprise or two this year. I definitely feel like 2017 was the "let's get down to business" phase for me, and I pray that continues into 2018. Thanks for stopping by and don't forget to give me a like on Facebook for blog updates! Have a blessed new year!
Good evening readership! A thousand apologies for the holdup since last month. Unfortunately, work and school took over for the second half of 2017, and I couldn't update any content on this blog, subsequently.
I owe y'all another big update. I've recently finished my first online semester with George Mason University, and that frees up time to write more in spite of what little time I have left until 2018 starts (along with the next class I have to take in the spring semester). In addition, I've successfully uploaded my application for graduate school; please keep me in your prayers for that.
I've got a ton of new adventures coming up next year, by the way...
On the last week of January, I'll be going on a trip to the Philippines to visit family. It'll be the shortest time I'll be spending in my island home due to work, but I'll be sure to make the most of it! As an added bonus, my penny-pinching self decided to take the cheapest flight home, resulting in the 15-hour, home-bound layover in Seoul; that might make for an interesting blog post.
Currently in development is a trip to Pittsburgh. I'll be visiting the Byzantine Catholic Seminary there for a personal tour/retreat there. More to follow...
Short as it is, that's all I've been up to so far. I'll be rolling out more writing sooner than you think! See ya!
I haven't done a POI post in a while, but I'd like to give a shout-out to a family member today.
That's him circled in red. Maraming salamat to my Silva cousins back in the Philippines! :D
Meet Roman Ona Briones, my great-uncle. He was born in the Philippines in 1919 as the United States was recovering from the First World War. He enlisted in the Philippine Constabulary sometime prior to the U.S. entry into World War II. Shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the Constabulary was incorporated into the U.S. Army, and Lolo (that's the Tagalog word for grandfather) Roman found himself assigned to an military police unit.
With the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, Lolo Roman participated in the defense of his homeland, seeing action in Manila and Bataan. He was later taken prisoner and was forced to undergo the Bataan Death March. During his imprisonment, he contracted malaria, and--to my surprise when I was checking his records--was released by the Japanese as a civilian, apparently "discharged" from military duty. However, for him and many other Filipinos, the war was far from over.
When the opportunity presented itself, Roman Briones became a guerilla fighter and resumed his fight against the Japanese army, eventually surviving the war to see the liberation of his homeland. By war's end, he made the rank of technical sergeant (a sergeant first class in today's U.S. Army) and earned four awards. He continued his military service in the Philippines shortly after the islands were given their independence and ranked up to first sergeant prior to his retirement. Afterwards, he lived out his retirement before he passed away in 2002.
I heard about Lolo Roman shortly after I myself had enlisted in the Army Reserve. A cousin of mine mailed his records to my house; from those records, I read his story and saw all his achievements during his service. Although I never got to know him, I now appreciate his service and that of all who served during arguably the world's greatest conflict to date. As we observe Veterans Day, let us all find inspiration and hope in the sacrifices our veterans and current service members have made.
As I sit here awaiting Game 3 of the 2017 World Series, I reflect on a remarkably productive week. I decided to arrange my agenda into a schedule for once (I know, I was ridiculously disorganized up until this point. I'm surprised I've made it so far in that state). It's amazing to see how one little change could relieve so much stress over daily errands!
I'm more or less caught up on my online classes and I'm anxious to get this semester over with. At the same time, I'm doing some finishing touches on my graduate school application and I hopefully will get that in by early November. I'm excited to begin a new chapter at my old university.
I'm starting to get the hang of adulting a bit. I'm slowly but surely learning to handle my own resources and prioritize my errands. I'm actually becoming less worried about the money in my pocket, and I pray I never let that become my idol. Quick shoutout to my parents for helping me on the way for the past couple decades!
I had a blast going to a couple of Halloween parties this week. I decided to use an old costume idea from a few years ago:
They said I could be anything, so I became an internet meme...
This morning, I went to Confession for spiritual refreshment. In addition, I called up the vocations director for the Melkite Eparchy of Newton, Father John Azar. More to come in later posts...
In summa, I loved this week. There wasn't anything significantly bad about it, and I feel much better than with previous recent weeks. It's a bunch of little things, but it's a bunch that made a positive impact. It's the little blessings that God rains upon us each and every single day.
"Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." --Matthew 6:34
I woke up this morning and checked my news feed. First item I see is a post about a mass shooting at a Jason Aldean concert at Las Vegas. At work, I watch news coverage about this tragedy; it pained my heart seeing the footage of gunfire erupting onto the crowds. With more than fifty dead and hundreds more wounded, today has shaken me to the core.
I mourn those lost, and I extend my sympathy and prayers to their loved ones. To save a portion of your life to be with those you love only to witness them being taken away is senseless and outrageous. It is absolutely unfair for that joy to be taken away.
As I sit in my room writing in silence, I reflect on the movement of the souls present on that day. Joyful souls celebrating with those they loved. A disturbed soul moved to inflict death and sorrow. The joyful souls turning to fear and anxiety when the pain is wrought. And brave souls pouring in to protect the helpless.
In the midst of sorrow and rage in the aftermath of the attack, I stress that we do not forget the love pouring in that night. I want to extend thanks to the first responders who came in to provide safety and security for the victims; these are people to look to as inspiration. In spite of the darkness covering that event, there were people who came to serve as beacons of love showering hope upon everyone. From first responders to those calling in and praying to ensure their loved ones' safety, many acts of love were committed that day in response to the gunman's singular act of hatred.
I'm not writing to debate gun control or any issue related to this. I reflect on the trial of human suffering; in spite of the worst that can be brought out of humanity, it can never truly quench the good that can come out of those willing to sacrifice for others. In the midst of tragedy and suffering exemplified by the recent hurricanes and last night's attack, never lose your focus on the good, little as it may seem.
"I will spend my heaven doing good on earth. I will let fall a shower of roses." --St. Therese of Lisieux
I found it fitting to use this quote from St. Therese, as her feast day was just yesterday. In her short life, she committed numerous little acts of love that nonetheless impacted her family, her congregation, and ultimately, the Church. Her "Little Way" serves as a model for those who might think their little good cannot overcome the evils in this world. As long as there is commitment to Love, hatred and evil cannot conquer us. In the midst of evil, let fall your roses.
I was driving back home, with my phone hooked via AUX cord, and this song started playing:
I haven't delved deep enough into Linkin Park's music enough to consider myself a fan, but, in light of Chester Bennington's passing (as late as this post may be), I wanted to share how this particular song brought closure to one of the darkest chapters in my life.
Waiting for the end to come
Wishing I had strength to stand
This is not what I had planned
It's out of my control
A year prior to the release of Linkin Park's A Thousand Suns (the album in which this song is found), I was facing multiple struggles in my first semester of high school. I couldn't maintain consistency in my studies, and I was struggling to make passing grades in a couple of my classes. To make matters worse, I let myself become the victim of bullying and harassment; I was making an idiotic spectacle of myself in front of my peers, no matter how many times I tried to stand up for myself. It was only the first semester of my freshman year, and I was already being caught up in the storm of high school drama.
What was left when that fire was gone?
I thought it felt right but that right was wrong
All caught up in the eye of the storm
And trying to figure out what it's like moving on
And I don't even know what kind of things I said
My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead
The breaking point came towards the end of that semester. I had been chatting with a classmate on Facebook regarding one of the students who had been bullying me, but misunderstandings led to argument, and it escalated to the point where I, in a fit of uncontrolled rage, sent online threats to peers who I suspected of sympathizing with the bullies. At that point, I felt like the world was falling apart and collapsing on me, and that decision threw me into confusion and self-doubt. I regretted my decision and deleted the filth I had posted up, but the deed had been done.
Soon after, the incident had been reported to the school, and I was subsequently withdrawn from the student roll, a de facto expulsion. The story spread to the other schools in the area; I had to move to a new district, as my family feared backlash from students who heard about this. In addition, I had to be placed in psych rehab for about a month before I was considered fit to go back to school.
I was completely shattered by what I had done, mentally and spiritually. I quietly contemplated suicide while I languished in a sea of regret and helplessness. I didn't see any reason to keep going in life; I felt forever marked by this sin I had committed.
So I'm picking up the pieces, now where to begin
The hardest part of ending is starting again
Thank God for a wonderful family I was born into. My parents, in spite of the gravity of the situation, never gave up on me. They worked their butts off finding a new school for me and constantly kept me in their prayers, taking me to see Jesus Himself in the Adoration chapel at St. Catherine's in Glenview. Whatever friends I had left after the incident encouraged me to move on, maintaining my resolve to reform and strengthen myself.
Of all the regret and despair that had flooded my mind during my freshman year, I still had some residue of in spite of successfully finding a new environment to thrive in. "What if it happens again next year? What would I do then?" I still had more questions even after that issue had been resolved (on the surface, at least).
It was then that I stumbled onto this song while I was watching a couple of music videos on TV. The message from Waiting For The End struck deep into my heart. I wasn't alone in struggles such as what I went through. There is hope even in the deepest pitfalls of life. Life in general will be hard and trying, but you can push through, with the added bonus of a support group.
It's been almost eight years since that life event, and I still feel the effects, though in a different light. Though I had been broken down to the core, I found an opportunity to grow and learn from my mistakes. I have a more positive outlook on life; I carry my crosses, but I know it doesn't end on Calvary. Am I still struggling? Of course I am, and life will drag on with such, but at least I know I'm not alone and that I can always reach out for even the tiniest spark of hope.
For those of you who may be struggling right now, I hope this little piece of mine helps, shoddy as it is. If you or someone you know may be contemplating taking your own life, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255; that one call could turn the tide of your life.
To conclude this post: Thank you, Chester. Your music saved this life and countless others; may your work continue to impact lives around the world.
Thanks for stopping by! Follow the Mapping on Facebook and/or Instagram for future blog updates!
While I was studying for my digital humanities course this semester, I came across an interesting article entitled, "Building Meaning in Digitized Photographs". It feels a bit strange to write about an academic work in a casual blog like this, but what I read had me thinking about a personal issue many of us have encountered at least once in our life.
Cutting to the chase, the author, Paul Conway, talks about the implications surrounding the digitization of images. Conway brings to question whether or not these digital copies are true and equal to the analog originals from which they were taken. He then draws various examples of different copying methods and analyzes how "true" these copies are to the originals. In spite of advancements in digitization technology, Conway concluded that digitized images were--to some extent--altered copies of their originals and thus never the "true" originals.
The reason why I'm bringing this article up is that it relates to the idea of the role model or the "idol". We all have had people to look up to as examples on how to live our life. "I want to be like them!" "I want to be selfless as her!" "I wish I could be as talented as them!" Questions like these race through our minds as we think about the people we admire. It's a good thing to look up to exemplary people such as our family and friends, but when does one take it too far?
As much as we can copy the good deeds we witness (and I pray that we continue to do so), we are not meant to copy another one's life to the smallest detail. Our interests may not be the same. I might be called for one thing, and you may be called to do another. You cannot force yourself to conform 100% to someone else's lifestyle in the hopes that you can do exactly what they do; you will inadvertently have a different experience and perspective from what the other has, no matter how detailed your "equivalent" is.
Besides, if everyone lived out their lives the same as each other--like the society portrayed in Lois Lowry's "The Giver"--where is the dynamic beauty of diversity and originality? Life wouldn't be as motivating and adventurous if you knew how it was going to turn out based on what you've seen in others. You have your own story; you have been authored by the Author of Life Himself, with the next chapters hidden away for you to write out by your choices. The world is a library of books coming and going, and you have a chance to write the next inspirational best-seller for generations to read. You can cite from past works, but your work must be your own. It is the newness of your impact that makes the difference. Pass on the ideas, but make it your own in your place in your time; that will be the epicenter of your works.
Today's post will not be broadcasted as widely as with recent posts, as this is a personal, but not secretive, matter to get off my chest. This is a piece from my life that is very intimate, but I will make this available for reading on the blog for you.
Today's one of those days again. Everything seems to have fallen in place, but it doesn't seem that it's just that that has fallen. Before me lies a book with my name on it; in my hand, a banged-up but still functional pen. Blank pages still comprise a majority of the work before my eyes. A familiar shadow--a familiar soreness--creeps up on me as I contemplate the next word, the next page, the next chapter. What more must I write? How much story is left for me?
The cast of our story. Who am I, first of all? What am I? Where am I? Why am I? I seem to have formulated a partial picture of what my purpose, my calling is. I have gone through much in the years leading up to today; laughter, tears, that whole shebang. But for what end? How will I know the end-all of this? Is there some result to be achieved now or in the future? What will be my impact? Am I even going to make an impact?
And what of the others? Those who have gone before me have played their parts and have affected my journeys and directed me to places where I had never imagined I would go. There are those who still affect me to this day, whether positive or negative, but how long until they disappear? Will some stay until the end with me? There are many today who I zealously want to keep, even when it looks like it is their time to leave. Who is yet to come? Tomorrow will decide that question.
Are the next few chapters simply regurgitated material from past work? Sometimes I feel like it's the same thing over and over again, as if each successive chapter was a crappy reboot of the previous. What is the point of all this? My spirit is dry and I yearn for refreshment. I want something bright, fresh, new; something to reinvigorate me. I want it, but I don't know where to go or what to do.
This dryness has placed me once more in a state of isolation. I can communicate with others, yet I still feel like a fish out of water; I don't feel the connection, that burning, passionate, zealous love I have for the other. It's like those prison phone counters you see in the movies; they're there, but you're not there, instead locked away from the energy of the embrace.
That's it. The Energy of the Embrace. The fuel tank in my heart has been almost emptied at this point. I've been so caught up in the bustle of my life so far in this world that I forgot to rest and revive myself. I've been emptying myself out into outlets that did not reciprocate enough for me to realize the potential of the life I have been given. I need more. How do I obtain this Energy? Who am I Embracing?
Then I recall a voice too often ignored throughout my book.
I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Of course. A simple, but profound answer to the various questions I've been asking. I've heard this so many times, yet I forget it so much. He is the one enough for me. He is the Energy I need to boost through the days.
This is My Body. This is My Blood.
Strength for the journey. What was it that an angel said to Elijah one day? "Eat, or else the journey will be too much for you." I haven't been eating my meals much; that is, I eat, yet I don't let the nourishment get to my heart. I accept it physically, but am I letting my spirit get nourishment too?
The alarm clock goes off. Sunday morning. Typical morning routine, then get in the car.
Parked. I open the doors of the church and walk in.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Work and school have settled in this month, and I have just arrived back home after a long three-week training with my unit. In spite of these new additions to my schedule, I am still determined to post at least a few things per month.
It has been a while since my last Persons of Interest! entry. I'm changing things up a bit for this series by introducing someone who I have not personally known, yet has made a big impact on my vocational discernment.
Last night, I watched a wonderful documentary on the life of this priest on EWTN, "Called and Chosen". Fr. Capodanno was born into a family strong in the Catholic faith. Vin, as he was affectionately known at home, discerned early on in this life that he wanted to be a priest and serve as a missionary. He was told he didn't have to do all of that and that he could serve the Church back home, but his heart pulled strongly towards bringing Christ to those who were less than able to come to Him.
After completing his first mission with the Maryknoll Fathers, Father Capodanno learned of the outbreak of the Vietnam War. Knowing in his heart that American forces needed the presence of God in this new conflict, he petitioned his superiors for permission to join the military as a chaplain. Again, many told him he didn't have to go, but he longed to serve those who were stationed afar. He commissioned as an officer in the United States Navy and was eventually assigned to one of the Marine units fighting in Vietnam. Many Marines found solace in the presence of Fr. Capodanno, who often made it to the front lines with them, and he became a beloved figure among those he served. For his constant presence in the lives of these Marines, from serving Mass and hearing confessions to going on patrols, he earned the nickname of the "Grunt Padre".
On September 4, 1967, Marines found themselves pinned down by North Vietnamese forces during Operation Swift. Fr. Capodanno's unit was sent to where the fighting was thickest, and Fr. Capodanno, at the last minute, boarded the last helicopter headed to the hotspot. Once more, he was told he didn't have to go, but he knew many men would be needing comfort in the turmoil of war.
The priest, upon his arrival, rushed to aid the fallen. He comforted the wounded and the despairing; he gave last rites to the fallen; he helped drag people to safety; he did everything he could to convey the presence of Christ in a place where it seemed otherwise. However, in an attempt to rescue a wounded Navy Corpsman (medic), Fr. Capodanno was gunned down. For his courage and selfless service to his Marines, Fr. Vincent Capodanno was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, the highest military award granted by the United States. His cause for canonization as a Saint in the Catholic Church has been opened as well, and many pray for the Grunt Padre's intercession to this day. His name is etched on the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.
With the 50th anniversary of his death coming on Monday, I find Fr. Capodanno's story to be inspiring for those discerning life in mission. Many will say we do not need to go so far to make such an impact. Perhaps that may be true in some cases, but Fr. Capodanno provides a beautiful example of self-sacrifice and the drive to bring Christ to others.
Could not have ended July any better. I've talked about CFC-FFL in a prior post, and I'm going to be a bit more direct in describing my wonderful adventures with them.
After finishing up another day of work on Friday, I took the train straight to O'Hare Airport. After a brief layover in Minnesota, I finally landed in Sacramento, California, albeit a bit late to the venue. At that point, I missed the first day, but I was lucky enough to be in contact with my friends who had already arrived from Chicago.
I woke up Saturday morning to commence my conference adventures. The conference was held at California State University at Sacramento (also known as Sac State), and it was an appropriate venue, as it was the conference for both the college and young adults' ministries of CFC-FFL this year. I got tapped to be an extraordinary Eucharist minister (which in Catholicism, is a lay person authorized to help the priest distribute communion during Mass); it was my first time being an EM with the hosts, and I naturally felt nervous, as I found myself handling the Body of Christ Himself. Mass went great that morning, though, and we began to attend the workshops that were set up for the day.
I signed up for four workshops. The first one I attended was about mission work. Now, I've done a couple of service trips prior to this, but this workshop reminded me about true commitment to a mission. A real mission isn't just a commitment of two weeks to help out in an impoverished area; it is to introduce love and hope into impoverished hearts and make a permanent impact that encourages growth, both physical and spiritual.
The second one I signed up for was about Mary, the Mother of God. This had a particular focus on Mary's veneration in the centuries following the foundation of the Church. Mary's various depictions and devotions throughout the world signify the universality of the Church's mission on earth. No nation or culture is excluded from the outreach of the Body of Christ. The singular yes of a young Jewish woman from Roman Palestine is a model for all Christians in their daily calls to holiness and discipleship.
Next came the workshop on vocational discernment. Hearing the stories from the panel (a married couple, a consecrated single, and a recently engaged Tom Park), I learned the dynamics of discernment. One does not simply pray to God and remain stagnant in the hopes that God will drop an answer in front of you; no, one must be on the move, following the path God has laid out for them, allowing for growth and the eventual realization of God's calling.
Snapshot from the Catholic Citizen workshop!
Finally, I attended the workshop on Catholic citizenship. With regard to political participation as a Catholic, it wasn't about how to vote or who to vote for, but rather how to maintain the integrity of your faith in the midst of today's issues. In light of the recent election, it broke my heart to hear about Catholics being shamed by their own brothers and sisters just because of who they voted for, and it was a relief to hear again that the Church does not look left or right, but up.
We had a powerful closing worship to end day two. We then came over to the Newman Center at Sac State for a rather lit afterparty. Now, I'm generally not one of those guys that immediately starts going into the dance floor and busting moves (I'm more of that guy in the back crossing his arms and bobbing his head thinking he's a cool cat), but I had a fun time chilling with my brothers and sisters from across the nation.
Sunday came, and we had our concluding Mass, worship, and speaker. The time came for the announcement of next year's conference. Turns out that SFL and CBFL will be having separate conference in New York and Houston, respectively. No biggie, I can come to both. Anyways, this conference ended up becoming my highlight for this month, and I am excited to start getting involved with SFL and CBFL again.
My postings have become a bit more sparse due to work and other obligations, but it doesn't mean I'll be abandoning this little blog of mine any time soon. The past month has been a roller-coaster, and I'll try to cover as much as possible while not overwhelming the reader's head.
It's been well over a month since I got my first job. My co-workers have been very welcoming to me and have been more than willing to answer my questions and get me trained on a variety of things. I've been able to pay for my family's expenses a bit, so I feel like I'm actually doing something to alleviate our overall financial situation. Plus, I'll have a bit of money for school. :D
I went to a few parties with some old college friends recently. Many of these friends have already graduated and are moving on to the next stages of wherever their lives take them. I hope against hope that I'll maintain some form of communication with them. I value these people tremendously for the impact they've had on me during my undergrad years, and I'm a bit stubborn to let these people fade into the chapters of the past.
Sparklers at an equally energetic graduation bash. Thanks for having us along, Kasia!
I got to spend this past weekend with some rather awesome colleagues at my unit. We had a dining out on Saturday evening (during which yours truly was part of the honor guard), followed by a PT test the morning after. I surprisingly set a new record on my PT test, which gave me a self-esteem boost and a new goal--beat that record.
Aside from other hangouts, I still have quite a lot of stuff to do for the rest of the summer. I've never felt so busy before during a summer, and it's a new, post-undergrad lifestyle I'll need to get adjusted to. Things are moving generally smoothly, but at the same time, I'm excited to see what the rest of 2017 has to offer me.
Thanks for stopping by and be sure to like/follow the blog on Facebook!
My name is Mark, and I am no longer a Roman Catholic. You may or may not have heard that right.
As of this point in my life, I have left the rites and traditions of this Church, and I am no longer bound to them. All that I was obligated to observe as a Roman Catholic will no longer be considered my tradition. Ash Wednesday? Not something I am encouraged to do now. Divine Mercy Sunday? Not on my calendar either. Easter Sunday? Don't call it Easter anymore.
I've moved on from a defining chapter in my life, and there's no turning back now. I know, it's shocking. But I never said I was straight up leaving the faith, you know.
PLOT TWIST: I'm still Catholic, though not as many would assume.
Today, with the approval of both Cardinal Blase Cupich and Bishop Nicholas Samra, I have transferred from the Latin Catholic Church to the Melkite Greek Catholic Church.
It is true that I am no longer bound to the Latin Church, but who said the Catholic Church was simply that one church? It's much bigger than that.
Truth is, I have discovered that Catholicism is more than just Rome. It is not a single tradition, but rather a family of various Rites and traditions from across the globe. While Latin Catholics commence the Lenten fast on Ash Wednesday, other Catholics have already begun their third day or even third week of Great Lent. While the Latins bury the Alleluia for the duration of Lent, others still proclaim the joyful cry of the Resurrection before the Gospel. The Latins have their Masses, other Catholics have Qurbono on Sunday, yet others have a Divine Liturgy to celebrate.
Truth is, I never the Church altogether. I found more family members, and they have lovingly taken me in as one of their own. I still appreciate my heritage from my Latin Catholic upbringing, and it is that, combined with my new home, that I find what is truly means to be a Catholic.
My name is Mark, and I am now a Melkite Catholic. Yep, you heard that right. Or you may have never heard of that Rite.
Happy summer, readers! There's been so much going on in the weeks since my last post, so I hope to have you caught up on my recent experiences.
(Good news, yours truly finally has a job! Looks like I'll be resuming my commuting adventures and hopefully finding some interesting things to post about on the way.)
Anyways, I'd like to bring up a recent undertaking I've started. Sometime during Christmas 2015, I spent my vacation with my family in the Philippines. I always love to visit them, but my limited knowledge of Tagalog was a bit of a personal embarrassment. I already have a strong bond with my family back there, but I always felt I needed that bond to be stronger.
During a shopping trip with my family, I stepped into a bookstore. Lo, and behold...
FINALLY.
With generally little hesitation, I bought the book and took it back home to Chicago. I'm 22 years old now. I might be a bit of a late bloomer, but I'm more than willing to put in the work. I've already finished the first chapter, and I'm happy with the progress I've made, little as it is. It'd be great if I found someone else to practice and learn with, though I'm quite not confident as to who to go to.
It's about time I did this. Who knows, I might end up doing an entire post in Tagalog. Tayo na!
The day I joined CFC-YFL (Couples for Christ Youth for Family and Life) was a life-changing chapter. After a period of lapsed faith and your general high school drama, I pulled myself back together with a new mindset. Together with a new family, I chose to dedicate my life in service to Christ and His Church.
YFL Spring 2010 Camp
Seven years have passed since I attended my first YFL youth camp, and since then I've collected a treasure trove of memories with my brothers and sisters from the whole CFC-FFL community. Bonds were made through joy, sorrow, and the overall journey of the human experience. This relationship with the community has helped me affirm my faith and my relationship with God and I do not regret the path they have guided me to.
In the years following that first youth camp, I found myself called to share my faith experience as I participated in future camps as part of the retreat team. Through this service, I found myself exposed to various questions regarding, but not limited to, who I was, why I came to the community, and why I stayed. My fellow team members helped me build up a better understanding of what and why I believe as a Catholic.
A few years later, I received a call through which I was asked to become a camp leader. The task seemed overwhelming and part of me wanted to run away from this responsibility. However, I confronted this initial self-doubt: "Why should you run away? Is this not an opportunity for you to grow even further in your faith?" Upon accepting that call, I, along with a wonderful group of brothers and sisters, began preparations for that weekend. The weeks leading up to the retreat were difficult, but it was great knowing we were bearing the burden together as a family. In spite of the numerous ups and downs of preparation, we never gave up on the goal. On retreat weekend, everyone did an amazing job guiding the new retreat members and we lovingly accepted them into our family.
YFL Spring 2014 Camp
Looking back at that weekend, I've realized I've grown even further as a result of that service. My mindset compared to how I saw things back then have become more focused on bringing God to others, as long as I keep myself accountable for my own formation.
That same year, I moved on to the young adults ministry of CFC-FFL, Singles for Family and Life (SFL), where I continued my faith formation during my college years. However, recent events have caused me to lapse from SFL event attendance, and sadly, I have not been in much contact with my brothers and sisters as I had before. I've been hungry for some spiritual nourishment a long time, and since my graduation from AIT, I've been wanting to catch up with my friends from the community. Hopefully, I can go to another household meeting and resume what I started at day one with YFL.
Today is a very special day for Catholics across the globe. Today marks the 100th anniversary of the Marian apparitions at Fatima, Portugal. In concurrence with this event, Pope Francis has canonized two of the child visionaries, Francisco and Jacinta Marto, adding them to the number of saints raised to the altars.
"On Portugal's cove on the thirteenth of May, the Virgin Maria appeared at midday."
The devotion to Our Lady of Fatima was one of the first prayers I learned as a Catholic. I read the stories on how Mary appeared to three shepherd children at the Cova da Iria in Fatima and how much those children suffered at the hands of anticlerical authorities for believing in such things. I read on the secrets revealed by Mary to the children and how they would play out for the rest of the twentieth century. I read on Sister Lucia dos Santos's life and subsequent work with the Church in the decades following the apparitions.
There was a lot of other crazy stories pertaining to the visions from various perspectives, like the disputed fulfillment of the Third Secret and the oft-debated Consecration of Russia. But, in spite of all the controversy and conspiracy theories being thrown about, now I've learned that all this is not meant to be the main focus when discussing the Fatima visions. No, it is way off to be focusing on those.
Mary's gist at Fatima, from my perspective, is clear and straightforward. The world now is in a terrible state, having endured two global conflicts, the Cold War, and terrorism; even on more local levels, families are broken, mistrust is built within communities, and personal doubts plague each and every one of us to some degree. But there is one way out, as advised by Sister Lucia: keep praying. Prayer is our lifeline to God and through which our hearts are opened to renewing grace. The consecration of a country isn't going to do much if we cannot consecrate ourselves individually; it takes penance and constant acknowledgement of who God is and our role in relation to Him.
What happened at Fatima was not simply some Delphic oracle promising nothing but Armageddon, but rather it is heaven throwing another lifeline for mankind held hostage by sin and darkness. Question is, are you going to climb that line?
My playlist is full of artists many of my friends haven't even heard of. Sure, I may have the occasional Bruno Mars or Adele hit blasting on my car radio, but I've got a multitude of songs from the likes of Sabaton, Static-X, Death Angel, Pop Evil, and the like. Chances are you've likely never heard about these, either.
It all started when my parents gave me some Elvis and Beatles cassettes--I know, I'm that old--when I was around six years of age. I immediately caught on to this sound and eventually wanted to explore a little more. Of course, I often had 93.9 playing more contemporary hits in the car, but I would also switch on to the oldies station to hear those familiar hits from my cassettes. As a result of my listening trend, my playlist would develop quite differently from my friends'.
Rock was really the genre I was born listening to. With these rock n' roll oldies as my basis, I explored other artists that were influenced by them. I began looking into bands such as AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, etc. I tuned into VH1 Classic to find more bands and songs to listen to. As I delved deeper, the sounds became more heavier; I started to discover my first metal bands such as Slayer, Rob Zombie, and Dethklok. Since then, my primary genre on my playlist has been metal and hard rock. Now I find myself tuning into these hits whenever I drive.
I've attended a few metal concerts recently, and in comparison to other parties where the music primarily was pop or mainstream music, I honestly had more fun at the rock and metal gigs. It felt natural for me to be interacting with familiar music.
Me at Chicago Open Air 2016! (feat. Spidey, Slendy, and Deadpool)
Having a different playlist from my friends has its pros and cons. Although I might share a few songs in common with them, I do brag about having a treasure trove of underground music in the midst of a pop-infested culture (no offense to my pop-loving readers, I like a little Justin Timberlake now and then.). Plus, I like to think I bring something original to a playlist. However, a downside would be feeling rather isolated at a pop-music dominated event. Sure, I can dougie, hit the quan, and whip, but it doesn't have that same feel as witnessing my favorite band rocking out on the stage.
But I think the pros definitely outweigh the cons in my case, at least. I found a niche where I feel unique in my circle of friends. I am different, yet I fit in; this is what I would consider a proper balance of belonging and individuality. I am not isolated, yet I am not fully conformed. It is part of my self-definition.
The Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom is an ancient and beautiful worship service celebrated by many Catholic and Orthodox Christians of the Byzantine tradition. Theology is highly integrated in the prayers spoken by the clergy and laity to the point where the divine and the material are intertwined at a single point. I am proud to be part of a Catholic parish which lives out this theology every Sunday morning.
One of my favorite prayers from the Divine Liturgy is the Hymn of Justinian, whose composure is generally attributed to the emperor for whom it was named after. It is a simple paragraph on the surface, but deep down, it is a prayer and a profession of faith in what and who Christ is and our relationship with Him.
"O Only Begotten Son and Word of God, immortal as You are..."
First and foremost, we acknowledge the divinity and omnipotence of God, particularly focusing on God the Son. He is infinite and the source of existence itself; no human mind can fully comprehend who He is.
"...You condescended for our salvation..."
In spite of our insignificance in comparison to Him, God loved, loves, and will love us. In spite of our imperfections, He opened the way for our eternal redemption.
"...to be incarnate of the Holy Theotokos, and ever-virgin Mary, and without undergoing change You became man."
The way he opened the gates to paradise was taking on our nature, not merely assuming a human likeness. In a harmonic union with his divinity, Christ assumed full humanity, experiencing all that humans would endure, including suffering, and ultimately, death.
"You were crucified, O Christ God, and You trampled death by Your death."
Picture this. The gates of Hades open to receive another soul taken from the earth. Business as usual, perhaps? But this is no ordinary arrival. Although this soul's arrival was clearly a result of a mortal death, it is at the same time the Soul of a divine being. Hades has no choice but to let this soul rejoin to the body from which it was separated, as the realm of the finite has no room for the infinite. But this means much more than this. A mortal, yet immortal being rising from the dead? Inconceivable. That would mean that other mortal souls could exit Hades as well. Christ has broken the chains of death! The power of Hades no longer imprisons the just souls awaiting the opening to Paradise. The game has changed forever.
"You who are one of the Holy Trinity, equal in glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit, save us."
With God's plan of salvation culminating in the Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection, a new chapter begins in our biography. Now, we have a chance at communion with God. As He fully partook in our human nature, we in turn are invited to partake in the divinity of Christ. This is our faith, our destiny with the divine. It is a celebration of a union, a wedding between heaven and earth.
"God became man so that man could become like God." --St. Athanasius
I sat uncomfortably throughout my ride on the CTA this morning. I did not have the usual comfort of listening to Gemini Syndrome on my commute, instead looking everywhere and generally avoiding eye contact with other people; I occasionally looked through my Facebook profile and emails on my phone, but even that couldn't alleviate the discomfort and social anxiety. I was used to closing off the outside world with my headphones and staying comfortable in the stagnancy of my "happy place".
But not this time. With my ears open, I was barraged with the bustle and boom of the world around me. Conversations about recent events. Parents introducing their children to the public transit system. Arguments on the phone. Homeless people asking for help.
Why now? Why should I listen to all of this? It pains my ears to hear the pain in this world. I want the noise to stop.
But that's probably why my ears were opened in the first place. One can ignore the pain, but it doesn't make it go away; it will still be there when you return to reality. You'll have to treat it directly if you wish to make your world a place worth living in.
Reality can hurt. It's what we do with the hurt that brings us out either at our best or our worst. We open our ears and listen to our surroundings. What is wrong? How can we fix it? What is right? How can we cultivate it? More questions may lie behind these initial ones, but they lead to more refined answers as we delve and explore our world and our lives.
I'm glad I didn't bring my headphones.
"Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear." --Mark 4:9b
Ever since I was given a PlayStation as a Christmas gift, gaming has been a definitive part of my life. It was gaming that introduced me to the ideas of hard work, achievement, and the adventures in between. Although I'm a 22 year old fresh out of college, I like to set aside some time away from the real world to let off a little steam.
One of the first games I was introduced to was RuneScape, which I started playing around the fall of 2005; I remember the day when I saw a few kids playing it at my neighborhood library and curiously asked what they were playing. I created an account and almost immediately fell in love with it. I learned that some of my friends at school had started playing it as well, and I used the game to occasionally chat with them. Today, I still occasionally log on to the game, though I'm balancing it out with more important things to do in the real world.
Recently, Jagex, the company behind RuneScape, released a documentary marking fifteen years since the game's release. You can watch it here. It's amazing to see how far something can go starting with so little. RuneScape's development from a simple MUD (multi-user dungeon) produced in a kitchen office to one of the most prominent MMOs in the world serves as a model for many who seek to make a big impact; persisting and believing in one's passions is what cultivates those passions to grow and become something larger, something that reaches out to people and solidifies itself as something to be remembered.
I know I'm sounding like a total nerd (or materialist) using a game like RuneScape as an example of "started from the bottom, now we're here," but I believe stories like this are what enable many to use what little they have to make something big. It doesn't even have to start with anything material; it could simply be an idea or concept that one cultivates and shapes over time and is shared to the point where it becomes larger than its original form. Even if it impacts only one person, there is at least one shift in conditions that will be ingrained for some time.
I'll again leave this post with some questions to reflect on. What are your passions? What crazy ideas or dreams do you have for them? What could be the potential impact of these dreams on the world around you? On yourself?
Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Familiar words for faithful Christians after a laborious observance of Lent. Through forty days of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving, and then the culmination of the Triduum, we arrive once more at the joyous holy day of Pascha/Easter!
This Lent was very challenging for me this year. I faced several difficulties and temptations which often threw me off my intended path. I often forgot that we were in Lent and I found myself falling into old habits which I believed to have discarded long ago. My prayer time became a roller-coaster of talking to God vs. mumbling a few Jesus Prayers without really paying attention to my own words. I became doubtful and questioned my commitment not only to this year's Lent, but to my faith in general.
But this questioning and doubt was in itself a wake-up call for me, a sort of subconscious Lenten sacrifice. I may have had numerous failings during the season, but I'm very glad to have noticed the issues. It is this self-assessment which assisted me as I explained my Lenten situation to the priests in the confessionals and allowed me to better shape my outlook on where God was leading me. I felt affirmed by the various friends I turned to for guidance and accountability. Visiting Christ Himself in the Eucharist bathed me in a sea of assurance and hope that my questions and doubts would be answered at the proper time.
It was in this Holy Week that I saw everything fall into place; I witnessed it in a way larger than I had expected. There was a warmth in my soul that I had not felt since I left for basic training in August, and there was also a greater pull--an acceleration in movement towards where God was leading me. I think I know where to go further at this point, though, of course, there is quite some uncharted territory left to go. Something to pray for more ardently as the years come and go.
It's key that we check ourselves once in a while. Perhaps there may be something we may have overlooked in the questions we ask ourselves daily. Not only can we find a potential answer, but also potential new questions to help better understand where God is leading us. As questions and answers come and go, we discover hidden treasures within ourselves which God has laid out.
What roads and treasures do you think God has laid out for you?
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart." --Jeremiah 1:5a
About eight weeks ago, I mailed a tube of my spit to the folks at Ancestry.com. After a slight delay due to increased demand for the DNA kits during St. Patrick's Day, I finally managed to get my results. And now, here is what I got. *drumroll*
Generally expected of someone of my stock, though deep down inside, I wished there could have been a surprise ethnicity in the mix. Regardless, I'm very happy to have taken a closer look at my roots, and I may or may not get my parents to try it themselves. Perhaps I could find out more from that, but that's for another time.
Click here to order an Ancestry kit for yourself. It's very much worth the wait!
Give a like on Facebook and follow me on Instagram! Happy reading!
Not too long ago, I found an advertisement on Facebook for a web series entitled "City of Saints". I was interested and signed up to receive updates on new episodes. Yesterday, I received an email informing me of the new episode, which you can view yourself in the link provided.
After having viewed this, I was exceptionally touched by Alex's conversion story. I, along with many others, can relate to the struggles, both external and internal, that he had faced in life. Many times, I often felt that I had no one to turn to for guidance, no matter where I looked.
It took various personal struggles in high school and college for me to realize that God the Father is always watching over me, even when I feel like He's not there. Every fall I have experienced has led to a greater rise; and it will only become greater in the years to come, in spite of the trials yet to come, as long as I keep my desires fixed on Christ, the Summit of my life.
Faith has always been important. With the recent troubles going on in our communities, we need to keep our focus on hope and strive to repair and build up those who cannot sustain themselves. We all have a calling to change at least one person's life and potentially start a chain reaction of change; question is, are we going to answer it?
I highly recommend that you sign up to subscribe to the City of Saints series. There are more inspirational stories to come! Also, please like my Facebook page and follow me on Instagram for blog updates! Thanks for stopping by!
It was a weird feeling when I got out of college. I transitioned into basic training and AIT, and when I got out of that and came back to Chicago, it felt even weirder. In the years leading up to this, I've had relatively smooth transitions between education levels from grade school onwards, easily anticipating what I was going to go through next.
Not this time. Although I've already applied for an online graduate program and am currently anticipating a transition to graduate school, I find myself in a rather awkward state. I flounder about, occasionally job hunting and squaring away a few tasks at home. I go back to my old school and socialize with my friends who are still riding the college struggle bus (though many of these will soon graduate this semester. Good luck, guys!). This floundering makes me feel like I don't quite know what I'm doing exactly in the now.
Sometimes, when I'm alone at home, the uncertainty gets a bit tense. The "I don't know" of the now becomes the "I don't know" of the years to come. Sure, there's a game plan for the future, but can such a plan be sustained with what I have now? There is so much to think about.
But I realize I'm getting rather impatient and, as a result, I see myself jumping the gun. I realize that I'm only just beginning to get a bigger taste of the world beyond the bachelor's degree. I need to get a feel for my surroundings and know them before I tackle the goals head on. It takes time for a hot meal to fully cook, and eating it now will leave a bad taste in your mouth and will probably also send you to the hospital.
After a few months of hesitation, I finally decided to make a Facebook page for the blog. Facebook friends, now you won't have to feel awkward stalking my personal profile for posts you may have missed out on.
(Also, I wanted to get a feel for posting on the new page rather than on my profile by writing this.)
Feel free to invite your friends to give the page a like!
Life can get pretty hectic, even when you think you're in a break period.
Today, I went on a men's retreat at St. John Cantius in Chicago (aka America's Most Beautiful Church). Figured I needed to reflect a little more on where I've gone in life and to discern a little more where God wanted to take me.
There was a lot of material given during the retreat talks relating to faith and theology, but what really struck me was the prayer involved. Undergoing the Sacrament of Penance, attending Holy Mass, and praying the Rosary and the Stations of the Cross became a revitalization for me who hadn't done most of these things in quite some time. I began to rethink the status of my faith and I realized I needed to be a bit more upfront and honest with myself.
Too long have I been stagnant waiting for God to drop answers from the sky; I know He has the answers, but I need to act if I truly wish to participate in His will. God's not a vending machine through which a certain number of prayers will get me the things I need, much less the things I want. I need to give myself to the One who gave Himself for me. That's how you get personal with God.
I've been chilling in my room for the few months following my return from Fort Jackson. I look around and see the numerous unused envelopes and stamps from basic training. And an idea pops into my head...
When I had my phone taken for the duration of basic, I was left with the option of communicating via traditional mail, for which I had to pay in order to get the needed materials to send a simple letter back home to my family and friends. It felt very weird at first--not having done this in well over a decade--but I soon got the hang of handwriting letters and addresses again.
In comparison to the texts I casually sent over my phone and my laptop, these messages felt more personal; instead of the relaxed convenience of typing on a touchscreen, I felt the strain on my wrist as I wrote and scribbled my messages. I felt the effort put into this communication; for the first time, I felt I was actually caring for my loved ones by making these mailings. Of course, I did feel something similar with digital messages, but in my case, the effort and the care felt real when I wrote my heart out.
When I was given my phone--and with it, the ability to text again--I felt different about the way I communicated after ten weeks of snail mail. Texting never felt as personal as writing a letter. Typing and leaving it for someone to eventually pick up their phone and see it didn't have the ring of, "I put in some of my resources just to speak my heart to you." I wanted to do more with the old styles, strange as it sounded.
And that feeling still echoes with me to this day. I want to experience the effort of caring and setting aside my resources for someone I love. I want that intimate feeling of true communication again. I want to pour my whole heart into creating a message that matters.
I have set a challenge for myself and for you readers as well if you wish to join in:
I'm going to start mailing people again. If you'd like, message me your mailing address (it will be kept confidential, of course), and I'll get to writing you a simple, but hopefully heartfelt letter. No matter where you are, I'll send you a message. For me, this is a personal exercise for my communications and relationships with others, and I encourage you to give it a try. It heavily affected my relationships with my loved ones during and after basic, and I'm happy with the changes. Happy writing!
It's been well over a month since my last post, but I've finally gotten around to writing again after adjusting to a new schedule. Hopefully, I'll be writing more often from this point onward. Anyways, I just came back from a brief, but amazing trip at New Orleans, Louisiana. That's another state to knock off the list!
My family and I boarded a coach bus bound for NOLA on March 1. Unfortunately, our trip got stalled in the first hour, as our bus broke down and we had to wait a good three hours on the shoulder until another bus came along to pick up everyone and load up all of our luggage.
The rest of the trip went smoothly. We arrived at our hotel and got settled in our rooms. The main reason why my family was there in the first place was that there was a business conference in the convention center not too far from our hotel. In reality, there were many things in New Orleans that caught my eye as I started exploring this fascinating city.
St. Louis Cathedral
Our first stop was the French Quarter, an area rich with culture and historical architecture. A statue of Andrew Jackson on horseback stands in the middle of the square which bears his name. Just behind that statue is the Cathedral of St. Louis, the episcopal seat of the Archdiocese of New Orleans (Bonus fact: One of the Archdiocese of Chicago's former archbishops, Cardinal Cody, was archbishop of New Orleans.) I had the opportunity of going to Mass when I came in, and I was absolutely awestruck by both the exterior and the interior of this cathedral.
We continued to explore the city a bit more before stopping for lunch at a Bubba Gump's, where we were treated to some nice Southern-style cooking and, of course, Forrest Gump trivia. After spending the evening exploring the French Quarter--and seeing some things I probably should not be describing in this post (or this blog in general)--we got back to our hotel and rested a bit.
A couple of days later, I decided to go out on my own to see the National World War II Museum, which was about a six minute walk from the hotel.
Best. Museum. Ever.
What I found was a treasury of historical artifacts, ranging from uniforms and equipment to first hand accounts of the war from all sides. Having grown up watching military documentaries and also having had a great-uncle who fought in the Pacific Theater, this place was breathtaking. I went through basically all of the attractions offered, including, but not limited to, a 4D presentation on the war narrated by Tom Hanks and a submarine simulator reenacting the sinking of the USS Tang. If anything, I'd love to go back there next time.
Overall, this short trip had a lot to offer. I think I just found my new favorite U.S. city outside of Chicago. Perhaps I could move there. Who knows?
"They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." --Revelation 7:14c
Today, I went down to St. Peter's in the Loop. Walking inside the church, I saw one of the confessionals with the light on--indicating the presence of a priest--and went inside.
The Sacrament of Penance may seem intimidating to many. For some, it can be very uncomfortable revealing certain life aspects that seem best kept to oneself. "What if the priest chews me out for doing this?" and "I can't be telling anyone about that" are a couple of the thoughts I've had pertaining to confession during my initial years of my formation as a Catholic--and sometimes, I admit, still have occasionally. Confession, to many, puts one on the hot seat.
Coming out of the confessional today had my thoughts racing about my faith formation. I had doubts about the genuineness of my personal prayer time, and wondered whether or not I was truly having a relationship with God through this. I felt I was reverting back to that phase in my life where I thought saying certain words in a set sequence would fulfill that relationship. Everything felt cold and isolated. I kept bringing this up with many priests as I opened up in the confessional for several years.
It was after today's confession that I realized the answer had been in front of me the whole time. The Sacrament of Penance in itself is a prayer, a communication with the divine. It was a way to open up about my personal life and the struggles that came along. It was personal as I admitted my sin through my own words as I dug deep into the darkest chambers of my heart. With these chambers exposed, the priest, an instrument of God's peace, reminded me of the Father's loving mercy which no sin can surpass. What was exposed was not merely a dirty soul, but an open path to renewal.
I have realized that this Sacrament has been my most personal means of prayer, and I hope to continue to utilize it in my formation and discernment. Catholics, do not fear the confessional; it is there to heal, not to punish. Take it as an opportunity to get personal with Christ, who forgave even those who crucified Him. The churches are not simply museums of saints come and gone, but hospitals for sinners (or saints in the making, I should say.)
Having completed all training requirements, I am now qualified
for my job in the Army! I should be set to come home this week and I'm
aching to catch up upon arrival!
I'd like to shine the
spotlight on my battle buddies. I have mentioned them in previous posts,
but I very much stress their impact on me. Together, we have gone
through quite the times. We've shared laughs, tears, and motivation all
through these eight weeks of AIT. From struggling to stay awake in class
to bowling at Ivy Lanes to rushing to recall formation back on post, I
feel more built up as a person with the times I spent with them.
Now
the time has come to go our separate ways. Some of us will be stationed
away from our homes--even overseas--while others will be returning to
serve our local communities. Each and every one of us has a unique story
and lifepath, and all of these streams flowed into a beautiful
experience during our time here. Now the time has come for these rivers
to separate and go where they are directed.
Perhaps I will run
into them again (Actually, that might happen with certain people this
year. You know who you are.). Regardless of whether or not that happens,
I pray that all of them find success and blessings throughout their
lives, and I state again that I am proud to begin my service alongside
them all.
A new generation of soldiers is about to emerge this week. Congratulations to all who made it!
Happy 2017! It's the beginning of a new year, and of course, new adventures!
I'm very happy to have celebrated Christmas and New Year's with family and friends back home in Chicago, but alas, my holiday leave has come to an end, and I must travel back to Fort Jackson to continue (and finish) AIT.
Highlights from my leave included, but were not limited to:
Watching Rogue One, Assassin's Creed, and Moana
Witnessing my friends break a coffee table during a rough round of spoons
A Christmas party with my brothers and sisters in SFL
I am not sad that these have come to an end; I'm glad because they happened. That's the key to cherishing memories.
I am very excited to reunite with my battle buddies back at Fort Jackson. Since the beginning of November, I've gotten to learn so much from them, and they truly have helped me grow and be motivated to overcome each passing week. We've only a few weeks left of training left now, so I pray we all can finish this strong!
I want to sidestep a bit and give a shout-out to my battle buddies. Some of us are entering the Army as a Reservist or a National Guardsman and will be returning back home after AIT--with myself included among them. Others came in as full-time, active duty members, who will have little time to say goodbye to their families back home before reporting to their first duty station--a sacrifice which earns them my utmost respect. Regardless of which component we entered in as, I have respect for my fellow soldiers who made the choice to raise their hand and took the oath of enlistment, a small but profound action that will go a long way. Perhaps, in the years following our graduation from AIT, we will see each other again; in a military or civilian setting, I do not know, but I hope we can catch up again after a few years or so.
With the beginning of a new year, more blank pages emerge to be written in our biographies. What will become of us this time? I have many predictions and theories about what may happen to me, but the outcomes are obviously subject to change (plot twists do end up becoming the most interesting, if not key, moments, though).
