Gracious Lord, Grant me Serenity

The month of January has been a month of fantastic high points and tragic low points. As I have passed the five month marker of being in London, I now come to a cross roads in my time here. I can either continue to involve myself within my parish and the commmunity around me, or decide to concern myself with other things and be present in places that don't really apply to my experiences here. It becomes a cross road that doesn't mark itself clearly and is defined by more of the gray than the black and white, though it clearly has an impact on my life.

I went to a Time For God Conference in Wales last week with 120 other volunteers placed all over the UK. It was a wonderful experience to feel the diversity of culture and expression within the group of people. We had a lot of time to sit and talk with one another and about our placements. We shared stories of struggle and stories of hope. I met many people who seemed to be still in the "game" but who have become tired and unhappy. They, thus, have taken a stance of "there's no real hope left for things to get better" and were ready to "plow through" the rest of the year. The reasons for many of the volunteers feeling this way varied with not having a good living situation, being upset with their boss, not connecting with various people at their placement, or just not being sure of where to go from here.

I, too, have slipped into this mindset at times. Father Nicholas is leaving the parish for a missionary priest position in Brazil in exactly a month which leaves many holes in the staff of the St. Pancras Team. Things continue to become more unpredictable as issues with money, people, and time arise at the begining of this interim period. It becomes more of a thought process in "how can we get this done" verses "how well can we do this ministry". My future beyond London now has also shown itself in a real way. I am now tackling the big question of "What am I going to do when I get back to the United States?" Nothing seems clear as issues with re-entry time, school, relationship, and future ambitions all make the future of "coming home" complicated. It all seems at times that I am going through life without much of any control over anything.

This element was hit home for me when witnessing my first street mugging. I was biking to the local market when all of sudden, I heard a voice calling "Help! Help!". As I rode closer down the road, I saw three young guys attack the man yelling and rip him to the ground. They then started to repeatidly punch and kick him right in the middle of the street. I immediatly turned around, grabbed my mobile phone, and called the police. Minutes later, the attackers fled and left an eery silience with a wounded body laying in the middle of the street. The police arrived with an ambulance and carried the victim away. I still don't know if the man survived or even what had caused the attack. From talking with local parishoners who live in the area, many are convinced that it was drug related. "One of the many reminders we have of the huge problems of gangs and street drugs here", a resident said to me.

A little while ago, I was doing some work in my room when an emotional Owen (the other pastoral assistant) knocked on the door. He told me that Francis, an 84 year old man who had dedicated his life to various functions in our church died at his home. Owen, in fact, was the first one to hear the news as the police who discovered the body finally came to the church because they could find no reference to any other family member. "That just explains how much the church was actually the only family left for him", Owen explained. Owen and I both remember fondly the first time we met Francis- an old, bent over man with a cane, a thick Cockney acsent, and an incredible spirit. He came up to both of us new pastoral assistants, gave us both a huge hug and kiss on the top of our heads and exlaimed, " The Fathers told me that you were coming and to take care of you! So that is what I am going to do!" Throughout this time, Francis has taken care of both of us in many ways. The loss of Francis will reverberate throughout all of our four churches this week. We all will miss him greatly.

I just couldn't believe it. These experiences seemed to pound into me the whole unpredictability of life in a real way. I began to be angry for a time exclaiming, "Why God? Why are things in my life seeming so much out of my control?" It felt like I couldn't do anything that didn't have an unforseeable consequence to it.

I then payed a visit to an 86 year old woman of St. Paul's Church named Chris. Chris has fallen into old age quite quickly this past year as her ostioparosis and arthritst have recently dictated that she no longer walk. Though stuck with a tired body, Chris's mind and spirit continue to be as sharp as a tack. As we talked in her flat by her chair that she sits in almost all day, she asked me "Young man, What is going on your life?" I immediatly replied that things were going well and that I was having a good time being in London. A look of disaproval came over her face like I had told a big, fat, lie. Thus, I began to tell her how I have been struggling with the feeling of not having any control in my life and the unfairness of it all. She looked at me keenly for a minute. "You want to know somthing?", she said. "The last time I was in hospital they told me that I had cancer. And so I told all of my friends and family that this horrible disease was infecting my body. Three days later, I was told that my file had gotten switched with another person's file and that I actually had a bad case of arthritist which I knew all along! Is that unpredictability or what?!" "Let me show you somthing!", she exclaimed. She then began to dig around in her pile of books next to the chair and pulled out an old, tatty, black book. She opened it to reveal pictures, letters, and old newspaper clippings. "This is my scrap book", she explained. She furiously flipped through the pages until her face gleamed with a smile. "Ah! Here it is!", she said pointing to a ripped up piece of paper. I took the book and looked at the faded words. It said:

Gracious Lord, Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things that I can change,
and wisdom to know the difference.

Amen

"You gotta cling on to that faith", she said. I stared at the prayer for the longest time. It seemed to knock me over! Chris was right, life is incredibly unpredictable and can be very challenging at times. We can get so frustrated by this fear, that we try to shut things out and just grunt through the time that we have left. Ironically, this is the time where it seems that we must be the most open and patient. We must be continuing to understand the things we can change, but "clinging to the faith and hope" with those things we can't change. May God grant us that courage and wisdom in this world of uncertainty and continue to love us through our struggles.