Courage In My Heart

I am a person who uses the Backspace Button. Constantly. I used it to write this paper. I used it to the delete the first two drafts of this paper. It is quite possible that my use of the Backspace Button is what caused me to fail English 111 the first time around. Maybe I delete things because I seek perfection. If so, I am not very bright.
I am an airhead; a space cadet. I cannot concentrate, or focus my attention on a specific task, without the aid of medication. Even with medication, I have to struggle to pay attention. My thoughts are not always my own: they go where they will and do what they want. I am just along for the ride.
I am Catholic. I choose to be Catholic because I love being a part of something that is infinitely bigger than I am, yet, at the same time, I play an integral part in it.

My faith makes me feel safe, and loved, and happy. It gives me purpose. It lets me know that, when everything is falling apart, and no one has the answers, I do not have to be afraid. Someone else is in control, and everything will be okay.
I am waiting. For what, I do not know, and so, cannot tell you. I am waiting for something to happen, something momentous, something amazing and earth-shattering. Maybe it is something I will have to initiate, myself. If so, I am waiting for the opportunity.
I have been a small number of places. I lived in San Diego, California, for the first seven years of my life. At that time, my father was stationed at Naval Base San Diego. When he was reassigned to Naval Base Guam, we traveled there by way of Hawai’i. We spent four years in Guam, after which, my dad asked to be transferred to Naval Station Great Lakes, which is located north-west of Chicago, on the shores of Lake Michigan. My family spent another four years there, reconnecting with relatives who live in the area. In the summer of 2006, my dad was reassigned to the Marine Corps Base Quantico, and we moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia. Since that last move, I have visited London, England, to see plays performed at the West End; Chicago, to visit old friends and older family; New York City, to see plays performed on Broadway; and Jacksonville, Florida, to see one of my favorite people in the world.
I am going somewhere. Not sure where, but somewhere. It may be that the “where” is what I am waiting for. I might go back to places I have been before; I may go on to new places. I hope both are true. I hope to go many more places in my life. In the grander sense, I want to see the world. I want to roam the globe, travel the continents, and rest my eyes upon all the glories of this little planet. I love Fredericksburg, but there is more to see, and I will be damned if I die before getting to some of it.
At one point in time, many lives ago, I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted a job, a family, love, success, happiness. I wanted a large brick house, with a larger yard, near an even larger forest (not sure where the forest came from, but I wanted it). This would all be after I graduated top of my class from Loyola, or Georgetown, or Annapolis. Around that time I would meet a rock star, or a movie star, or a prince (delusions of grandeur), get married in a huge ceremony, attended by all and sundry, and ride off into the sunset toward my forever after full of bliss and happiness and a lifetime’s supply of Lindor chocolates.
Now, I do not know what I want. I want to be happy, but if it turns out that my idea of “happy” and God’s idea of “happy” do not mesh, I could learn to be happy with whatever He gives me. I know that I do not want to suffer – for some odd reason, I have a horrible aversion to my own suffering – but, then again, if it is suffering I am meant to endure, bring it on. After all, it will only last until I die. Hopefully.
Maybe, in the end, all I want is to meet what God has in store for me – unflinchingly,
without fear or hesitation, with a smile on my face, with strength in my stance, and courage in my heart. That is what I want.

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