Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Porch conversations lead to blog posts

"If you could change one thing in your past, would you?"

It's an interesting question that people ask sometimes. My dear friend and I were sitting on the porch one day, contemplating all the random things a philosophy/theology/catechetics major and communication arts major can possibly combine. Life came into the conversation - as it always does when you're Catholic and quite the pro-life advocates - and so did this question.

"I know older folk tend to say they wouldn't."

Which is true.

"But I think I would, wouldn't you?"

I sat still a moment. Would I? Would I change one little thing? What would it be? Who would I be because of if? Since I'm a Whovian, I started getting all science fiction over the question and how it would probably mess up my timestream and the world would turn out differently. Except maybe without the aliens.

So I said no.

Really, I do like the way my life has turned out so far. Despite everything, and because of everything, and by the grace of God, I'd made it to that exact spot on the porch, with the exact personality and experience that I had, sitting next to that dear friend of mine. Maybe I said no because there was nothing disturbing my peace at that moment. Maybe if I'd been in a difficult situation or had a different, more turbulant past, my answer would be different. But I wasn't precisely sure why I'd answered with a "no."

Then a few days later, I began reading a book about Pope Saint John Paul II.

JPII wasn't always the kind, heroic Papa everyone usually refers to. Because he lived during WWII, the  many ups and downs of his young adult life played a tremendous part in who he eventually became. He was alone in the world at age 20. He worked hard in a quarry, but somehow found time to pray and attend daily Mass.

My favorite fact, though, was that he was an actor. I've read his "Letter to Artists" several times now. This magnificent letter reflects the author's gentleness, compassion, fervor, love, and enthusiasm. You can see how much he cares about human dignity. You can feel his passion for the true, good, and beautiful. And because of this, you can also tell that he went through so much during his early life.

This is one of the many outcomes of the life John Paul II lived, and I know there are many, many more.
Honestly, I'm very glad he didn't go back to change any one thing.

I can't speak for everyone, and I know there are some people who would give anything to change a single past mistake or event in their lives. But I wouldn't. I couldn't, at least knowing that not one mistake or tragedy in my life is irredeemable. I couldn't knowing that however broken things are, God will make something even more beautiful out of them. Just like he made a masterpiece in Pope Saint John Paul II. Just like he did with the Cross.

Will the mistakes and tragedies hurt? Probably. Probably a lot. I'll probably even come back to this blog and wonder why on earth I chose not to change anything. But then I'll remember. Then I'll hold on to God as tight as I can, and pray not to let go.

So for now I'll say no. No, I wouldn't change a thing.

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