Any Dominican
Volunteer will tell you that ministry is not easy. As our mission statement
dictates, a DV “searches for new frontiers for the faith.” We are asked to
bring the light of Christ to the darkened corners of our world. Completing this
mission in ministry placements while living in intentional community demands a
form of relationship that is both deeply fulfilling and exhausting. It is
something both awful and beautiful that few people experience in this lifetime.
In the quotidian
routine, ministry can be very frustrating. It’s frustrating to feel like the
people you serve are doing the best they can, and you are giving so much of
yourself, but no one is “making progress” or “moving forward.” In my ministry
last year, I saw many students work hard all semester only to remain on
academic probation after a bad exam. I saw my students, despite being engaged
in class, repeatedly neglect to do their homework. Most of all, I saw myself
drag along as a first-year teacher, often in a panic about what the next day
would hold. But in many ways, these frustrations are only setbacks; they are
opportunities to remain hopeful and shine light. They are not the ache of true
disappointment.
My first
disappointment in ministry happened in January. Several of my students were
absent from school for two days in a row. For some, this comes to be expected
behavior, but for Nicole, it was not. I looked forward to seeing her in class
again; I thought of her routine disorganization but otherwise friendly
presence. The following week, I found out that Nicole’s parents were in a
custody battle. Although her mom wanted her to stay at our school, her dad
enrolled her in a school near his home, some 20 miles from ours. The previous
Friday was recorded as her last day of school. I never knew she was leaving,
and I never got to say goodbye.
Nicole was not the
best or brightest student in my class. She often lost both her homework and her
focus; her tests made me wonder if she heard anything at all in class. But
Nicole might have had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. She never got angry
or displaced her frustration on me, as many students did; I was even more
impressed by this after learning about her challenges at home.
Nicole’s ability to
love was shown to me distinctly only a few weeks before her departure, when we
had a transfer student join our class after the Christmas break. Our new
student, Camila, was cold, closed off, and adamant about not participating --
understandable defenses to a new environment. But Nicole brought her out of
that, shining the light of Christ in the darkness, offering hope and love to
Camila by offering to work together with her at the board. When I checked in on
them later, Camila was writing, talking, and laughing. Thanks to Nicole, Camila
finally became engaged relationally and a member of our class.
I wondered what
Nicole would need to survive at her new school, and if anyone would reach out
to her in the same way that she reached out to Camila. I prayed that she
wouldn’t lose her spirit or her will to succeed. Most of all, I hoped that
despite the difficult changes in her life, she would continue to shine her
light.
In mid-September,
Nicole stayed behind after class. After a few pestering questions from me, she
broke down in tears, saying that our school was too hard for her and she
couldn’t keep up. I talked her down, offering some solace, and tried to
illustrate that our entire staff was on her side. I remember that moment as my
first real experience of ministry at my placement. Nicole showed me what it
meant to be vulnerable and to share in relationship. She made me realize that I
have the capacity to bring hope to the hopeless and preach the good news of
Christ in the smallest ways each day. I was able to shine some light into her
life, but, if anything, I must thank Nicole for allowing me to witness to her.
To lose Nicole was
heartbreaking, and one of my first lessons of love in ministry. I think of
Nicole once in awhile, and her memory is tinged with the sting of never telling
her how much she meant to me. This Christmas, I offer prayers for her and her
family, so like the newborn Jesus, her light may shine to the world in the same
way it shined in mine.
It is so easy for us
to lose focus, to forget what really matters. It’s tempting to turn inward
rather than continuing to reach out to others. Nicole did this so beautifully,
and I hope I can honor her by doing the same. This Christmas, may we each share
the light of Christ through our kindness, our hope, and our love.
Merry Christmas, and
let your light shine!
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