Fall in love; stay in love.

Love is something I have struggled with my whole life. Love of God, love of self, love of others - it's been 24 years, and I'm still working at them. Of course love was always there, in a sense. It is why I sobbed at my grandfather's funeral, why my life came to a screeching halt when my mother endured a life-threatening heart attack. But love is often there in the big moments - it is intrinsic, the need to love and be loved in these grand, dramatic ways. But what I'm still figuring out is how to love in the small moments; how to make love part of every moment of every day; how to love in the impossible moments; how to make my person and my character infused with love, piercing hearts with it.

At John Carroll, when I began deciding who I wanted to be and how to get there, I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to do the most, be everything. I wanted to be everyone, be perfection. I would never stop, never slow down, never think of myself, never succumb to weakness. At first, it was a need to do everything, and be everywhere. I was at every meeting for every organization on campus. I eventually found my place in Campus Ministry and service, but this focus didn't keep me from over-committing. I was at protests and marches, spending Wednesday nights at the Catholic Worker and Friday nights with a service organization visiting homeless men and women, going on retreats, in a Christian faith sharing group and the chapel choir… spending every moment finding new and exciting things to fill my time.

You could compare me to a little kid collecting seashells on a beach; I was determined to pick up every single seashell on the beach, even if some were fragile, already broken, or if I knew they wouldn't bring me any happiness at all. Even though I already had way too many seashells in my arms... I couldn't help myself. I became addicted to picking up every one that I saw.

When did I find time to study? When did I find time to breathe? I couldn't tell you.

Most importantly, when did I find the time to love? I'm not talking about love of my friends, my family, my boyfriend - though those were important, and I was neglecting those, too. I'm talking about love for what I was doing. How could I have loved when I was so tired?

But love wasn't on my mind. On my mind were the sake of the organizations I was part of and how much I didn't want to let them down, and the people being served by those organizations and how terrified I was of letting them down. They were homeless, they were victims of sexual violence, they were discriminated against, they were struggling in developing countries around the world, they were suffering at the hands of cancer. Who was I to say I was tired when my endless energies and talents were so needed in the world?

In my sociology coursework, we spoke so often of privilege, and the words from the twelfth chapter of Luke became my motto: "Of him who has been given much, much will be demanded." I knew how blessed I was; how could I not pay it forward? I demanded greatness from myself.

Love has helped me to realize that it's not about greatness – actually, quite the opposite. It is my responsibility to discern how best to use the gifts God has given me, rather than how often I can use these gifts or how to make sure to use every single gift. At John Carroll, in my attempts to use every single gift I had as often as I could, I was terribly tired and unhappy. I finally realized that that can't possibly be what God wants for me. Love cannot be possible when we are unhappy.

I've begun to discover that it's not a matter of what my deepest desires are being radically different from what God desires for me, and finding the balance between the two. I'm slowly discovering that these two things are one and the same. God wants me to be happy. God wants me to find the place where my deepest desires and the world's greatest needs intertwine. That place is where love is found.

Oscar Romero reminds us that "we cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest."

I would like to add that we cannot be everyone. This enables us to be someone, and to be that person very well.

Like I said, my years at John Carroll could have been done better. They could have been done with love. So what got me here? A tiny island in the Pacific called Pohnpei. It's one of the Federated States of Micronesia, about 20 miles wide and 13 miles long, six degrees north of the equator, home to 30,000 people. I know, you've never heard of it. But somehow, I spent the last two years there.

I like to think of Pohnpei as a "necessary detour." I joke about it that way because I'm right back where I was before I left - living in Cleveland... volunteering at Migration and Refugee Services... even in the same relationship that ended just before I left the country. So, what - did nothing change for me?

Everything changed for me. Pohnpei and my experience there taught me how to love. I learned that true love is about slowing down, and having an experience with people instead of a brief encounter. It's about fully exploring who I am and spending serious time reconsidering it often. It's about having an awareness of my strengths as well as my weaknesses, and serving others through my weaknesses as well as through my strengths. So much has changed within me. Most importantly, Pohnpei helped me to recognize not only what love is, but what it is that I am in love with. I'm in love with the peoples of other cultures.

My interactions with people from these different places have helped me to appreciate my own culture and country. They remind me of what is important. They teach me and allow me to teach them. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They make me speak in clichés. They make me realize how blessed I am, but also how blessed they are, and how rich their lives have been, despite their struggles.

The greatest part of it is that I'm not doing everything. I am allowing myself to do this one thing – and, I hope, to do it very well. I still believe in and admire the importance of human rights campaigns, and movements to end homelessness, and faith sharing, and protesting. I will insert small parts of myself into these needs of the world, but I have found where the biggest part of me needs to go.

I suppose I could feel pretty ordinary right now, compared to my vibrant college years. I spend 50 hours a week at Migration and Refugee Services, but right now, at this very moment, I can't wait to go to work tomorrow. That is love. There is a peace inside of me that I can only describe to those who feel it to.

I am happy, and I like to think that God is so, so happy for me - happy with me. I feel aware of myself, I feel ingenious, I feel like a hero. I have created my own wonderful life. God's will has been fulfilled in my life, because I have found where my deepest desires meet the world's needs. I have fallen in love.

“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is,

than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends
what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart,

and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ

Peace,

Samantha