Omelets, bacon and catch up

There is always something to be said about the comforts of home: familiar faces, same old sights and lots of loved ones. It's been a crazy week being back on the West Coast. Although the scenery is much different the winter temperatures feel the same at times.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day seem like a blur. There was an adrenaline rush of last minute shopping, cooking and gift wrapping then it died down to a lull. Being back in California for almost a week I have tried to spend time with loved ones. It has been a challenge finding enough time to spend with everyone who has influenced me in years past.

One great tradition in my life that I continue to look forward to is the annual Christmas gathering of my high school friends and their significant others. This year was the first I can recall that it was just the ol' gang. There are anywhere from five to eight of us that keep in contact via e-mail or Facebook. Each year since we graduated in 1996 we try to gather for our annual brunch.

We're all the same age but we're at different stages in life. One of the women has been married for several years. Another woman has two children. A few of the folks are in long-term relationships. I'm the only one of the bunch who has yet to settle down.

We catch up over omelets and bacon. Our tales include breakups, engagements, children, careers and grad school. Knowing each other for the better part of 15 years we focus on details such as - "How did your fiance propose to you?" Or "Living in Amsterdam what can you tell us about the the Red Light District?" or "Did so and so get married?"

As our three hours unfolds we take turns talking about where we are in life physically, emotionally or mentally. We ask ourselves and each other, "Are we ready for marriage?" or "How can we be better communicators and listeners?"

One of my friends joked in some ways today's brunch was like the television show, 'The View,' where women sit around and talk about an issue or problem.

I often forget that my high school friends make a great resource and sounding board. There is no hiding or skimping when it comes to talking to friends you've known for years. Perhaps it is that raw honesty that keeps us together. It is the combination of common rhythms, shared pasts and memories that propel our friendships to new levels.

"Leaving on a jet plane"

The old John Denver tune, “Leaving on a Jet Plane” couldn’t hold more truth for me right now. It has been a short well-timed journey through the first semester of graduate school. My days have been filled with paper writing, reading and working on computers. My nights are filled with writing, reading and playing on Facebook.

Writing my final Boston 2008 blog entry, I am giddy at the thought of visiting family in California. I couldn’t be more ready to see family and friends than I am right now. The first few months here in the Northeast have been fun yet tiring. Exciting yet draining. Challenging but fulfilling.

The biggest adjustment for entering graduate school is the mind set from a daily journalist to a ‘budding theologian’ as my professor likes to call her students. The first time I heard that phrase I wanted to run from school. Coming to Boston College I’d never considered myself a ‘budding theologian’ of any sort.

But here I sit four months after my ‘theologian roots’ were first watered. Like any good plant that needed tending too the key for a successful first semester was a good balance of water, sunlight and soil. The soil was my family and friends who grounded me and constantly reassured me that this journey of theology and ministry was one that had been a long time coming. The sunlight was the playtime spent in the area exploring, taking in theater, sitting at Peet’s Coffee, or whatever little escape I could conjure up. The water was everything I was studying – Liberation Theology, the Trinity, the Sacrament of healing, and sexuality. The water not only quenched my desire for knowledge but it sustained me.

My peers and professors warned me that the first semester would be a steep learning curve. And if I could have judged the curve right I would guess mine was like a 80- degree angle. Provided I pass all my classes I guess this first semester was a success.

Wishing, waiting, snowing and Advent

As I sit here readying for my finals week, I'm trying to keep my entry short. And the only thing I can think of this week is to try and tie Advent into the first snow of the season.
I'm making this short and saying that Advent is about being ready and preparing the way for Christ. With this being the second week of Advent it's been great to settle into a rhythm of prayer and intentionality.
But one thing I realized this morning as I awoke at 5:30 a.m. in anticipation of my first snow flurries was that waiting for the first snow is like waiting for Advent.

First, it gets real cold for a few weeks. It's like the weather is teasing you with the temperatures that dip to like 19 or something. Then if you're like a first-time winter person such as myself you think about what you need to survive your first winter: hat, boots, jacket and gloves. Then you go about preparing yourself and perhaps reminding others around you.

I thought of that this morning as I dressed for morning Mass. I awoke super early to see the pretty flurries in the sky. Then as I layered up with my jacket, gloves, scarf and hat I thought that this is the way I should prepare for Advent. My friends told me of their 'first snow' experiences. They were filled with joy and community. I wanted that also for my first 'New England snow.'

When I stepped foot outside on the way to Mass I smiled at the white flurries that danced around me. It was like I was in the middle of the world's biggest snow globe.

Throughout the day I smiled as I stepped gingerly on the snowy sidewalks, pathways and roadways. The best part of my day was when a fellow classmate told me that it was necessary to make a wish for your first snow. I'm going to wish for something as I get ready to retire for the evening. And if it comes true I'll let you know.