It’s hard to believe that this Fall semester at DePauw is almost over. It didn’t seem long ago that I was moving back into my Fraternity and ready to take on the year. I’ve watched the seasons shift from summer to fall to, now, winter. I’ve also watched my group of first-year students start to settle in and grow within the DePauw community in their own ways. Personally, I’ve seen how relationships can ebb and flow and how their dynamic can be in flux.

This time in the church liturgical year known as Advent is a time of introspection and reflection, as we wait in anticipation of Christmas (sorry to get denominational on you all here), so I figure this is a good time to start reflecting more. I definitely feel like this semester was a step back personally, as I always felt behind. I know there were times last year when I felt overwhelmed, but this year I’ve always felt like I was missing a step. It’ll be interesting to see how much an impact it has had on my academic performance.

Certainly, this year has been very noteworthy for me in many ways. I was lucky enough to be in DePauw’s first theatrical production of the year, after thinking that I wouldn’t be able to because of my night classes. I was blessed enough to be elected to a Cabinet position in my Fraternity, in which myself and four others will lead our Chapter in the coming year. To me, this was a noteworthy occurrence because I see it as my way of reinvesting myself in the Chapter that has given me so much support in the past two years, and hopefully for the years to come. In the coming semester I will be helping to lead the a cappella group I’m in by serving as the male Co-President of the group, which I’m excited for to see what kind of challenge it presents and how I can help better a group that has been very high achieving in my time at DePauw thus far.

So, where does that leave my personal life? Sure, you can talk about all the accolades and positions you want, but, at the end of the day, it’s your relationships that really matter. This evening I saw my very dear friend Tim Fox in a radio play production of It’s A Wonderful Life (the classic story retold in a 1940s radio show setting), and I was reminded of the sentiment that George Bailey learns in the show’s conclusion:  ”Remember no man is a failure who has friends.” I definitely feel that some of my relationships with my friends have grown thus far this year. In some ways, I feel that some of those relationships have regressed, for various reasons.

When it comes to reflecting on my relationships, this time of year reminds me of a song by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson, a song about the hope which is brought to us in this season, which I leave you with this cold December evening:

This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
It rolls in from the sea

My voice, a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
To carry you to me.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love

They say that things just cannot grow
Beneath the winter snow,
Or so i have been told.

They say were buried far,
Just like a distant star
I simply cannot hold.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?

This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,

I still believe in summer days.
The seasons always change
And life will find a way.

I’ll be your harvester of light
And send it out tonight
So we can start again.

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?

This is my winter song.
December never felt so wrong,

This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon
It rolls in from the sea.

My love a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light
To carry you to me.

Is love alive?

Much like every other Thanksgiving of my life, I was at church this morning with my family. It was a kind of weird experience only because this was the first Thanksgiving mass  where I wasn’t part of the music ministry because my very dear music director at that particular parish retired at the beginning of October. However, not to be one who fights change, I decided to give my contact info to the new director and offer my services and help for Christmas; we’ll see how that goes.

The homily was what caught my attention today, as our parish priest talked about (surprise, surprise) being thankful. However, he took a very different approach to it as he began. He talked about how easy it is to be negative, and how deceivingly pervasive it can be. Rather than embracing a new day, many people are negative about their mindset throughout their day. And don’t think that I’m soapboxing here, because I can be just as negative as the next person unfortunately.

What’s funny about it is that some people just assume that I am, and always will be, a very negative person. I’ve discussed this with friends of mine, and pointed out to them that, as negative as I can be, it’s mostly in the short-term. And, in a gut reaction, yes my mindset will probably be negative (or bitingly sarcastic, the two aren’t mutually exclusive), but, in the grand scheme of things, I always seem to maintain a relatively healthy, positive mindset (I am a Cubs fan after all ). I think the one thing that we can all do is to approach our negativity and not let it 1) overwhelm us and 2) pervade the attitudes of others.

When we get up in the morning, don’t think about how awful the day is going to be, but see it in terms of its potential to be great, and just the fact that waking up to a new day in and of itself is a blessing. The title of this post is from a George Strait song entitled “I Saw God Today”, and I realized today that it has a lot of personal significance, because, as the lyrics say, I don’t look as often as I should. So, on this wonderful holiday where we are thankful for all of the great things in our lives, learn to embrace the difficulties, as I leave you with these few lines from “I Saw God Today”.

I’ve been to church
I’ve read the book
I know He’s here
But I don’t look
Near as often as I should
Yeah, I know I should
His fingerprints are everywhere
I just slowed down to stop and stare
Opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today

Happy Thanksgiving!

Best,
MJH

For the flowers are great blessings.
For the flowers have their angels even the words of God’s Creation.
For the flower glorifies God and the root parries the adversary.
For there is a language of flowers.
For flowers are peculiarly the poetry of Christ.

These are lines from a stanza of Jubilate Agno by Christopher Smart, which is set to music by Benjamin Britten in his work “Rejoice in the Lamb”. I had the great pleasure of singing the tenor solo set to this text in the DePauw Chamber Singers’ concert last night. Looking at this text, I realized the beauty and simplicity of what it means, and how we can use it to reflect on our lives.

In this late Fall season, as everything begins to fade away around us- the growth of Spring, the air of Summer- it’s very easy to become brought down by the fleeting sense of the season. And yet, it is in this time that I realize that the flowers are great blessings. It’s one of those perspectives where you don’t really realize how much you miss something until it is gone. Sometimes we need that realization to put our lives into perspective. Only once have we had that realization can we actually cope with any kind of change.

In their own way, flowers can represent Christ’s life to us: as they begin to fade in this Fall season and eventually succumb to Winter’s cold, we do not fear that the flowers will not come back in the growth and renewal of Spring and Summer. So also can we take hope in the death of Christ- His sacrifice was for our sins, and we cannot fear that He will not come back at some time for us.

Of course, I don’t want to get too heavily liturgical (I’ll leave that to Mr. Fox), but my point is that we shouldn’t lose hope in any situation we face. With regards to the relationships we have with others, we should always trust that the seeds we’ve planted in terms of our commitment and care for that relationship will always bloom and grow, even if we hit our patches of Fall and Winter.

In the last episode of Series 2 of the British version of “The Office”, manager David Brent says, “Life is just a series of peaks and troughs and you don’t know whether you’re in a trough until you’re climbing out, or on a peak until you’re coming down.” And, as unfortunate as it is that we have to experience coming down the peak or coming out of the trough, that’s really where life lies. Life isn’t a series of disjointed moments; it’s the experience between those moments that define our lives that make life what it is. Sometimes, you just have to be able to see past the sunset and see the horizon before you, knowing that the sun is going to bring you the hope of a new day.

-MJH

A little over a year ago, a blog was born…this one to be specific. It was in the midst of a Fall Break that involved next to no work (which, oddly, sounds exactly like this one). In a little over a year, this site has been visited 2477 times, which I find extremely humbling, given the fact that I don’t really think that reading about my fairly insignificant life warrants being read that many times (I am aware of the fact that this doesn’t necessarily mean that that many people have visited the site, but still, it has to be quite a handful).

A couple of things related to that first post: 1) I still have doubts about whether or not I want to start teaching the minute I leave DePauw, 2) still about 10 steps ahead of myself, 3) Fall still reminds me of smooth Jazz (which is why I spend a lot of time listening to it these days), 4) that whole “Boy Meets World” thing is probably still true- the other day, I watched the last ten minutes of the series finale and actually shed a few tears…again, 5) I still like “Somebody to Love” by Queen (and was extremely pleased to see it featured on Glee a couple of weeks ago) and “Africa” by Toto (which I expect to see on Glee soon )  and, finally, 6) I’m glad to see I haven’t “dropped” this, although I have not kept up with it to the extent that I wish I had…this hopefully will change.

But enough about the past. I spent two days this past week working with my dad, who is a stationary engineer at an office building in downtown Chicago. My first thought going into this endeavor was how awful it was going to be, only because my experience of working with my father had been horribly jaded by my working with him the summer after my Freshman year at DePauw. I wasn’t really mentally prepared for working with my dad, as he is a very particular person about what he wants, and knows exactly how he wants to go about it. Not knowing this going into my first opportunity to work with him, I don’t look upon it very favorably. However, I honestly can say that I did enjoy this experience in working with my dad, if only because I feel like I learned so much about him (and myself) over the course of those two days. I had already figured out that the personable, outgoing side of me was something I had picked up from him (not to say that my mother isn’t like that, but she’s certainly not as “in your face” as my dad is), but I also figured out that the analytical, problem solving part of my personality came from him, as I watched him figure out how to remove a defunct hot water heater from about twelve feet up using a pully system created from a piece of conduit pipe, electrical wire and a piece of metal that I attached to the hot water heater to create a pseudo-handle on the unit. My roommate and I made a joke a couple of weeks ago about how my dad was like MacGyver when he fixed the power in our room simply by pushing the circuit breaker further into the “on” position, but watching him rig this system (and it working with no problems) certainly made it seem less like a joke and more like an honest comparison.

Besides learning more about myself, I’ve spent the past week mainly not working on assignments due after Fall Break and doing other things such as: 1) watching the series finale of the former Disney Channel series “Phil of the Future” and being extremely disappointed (if Phil’s parents and sister all wanted to sabotage going back to the future, then why bother? No, instead, let’s have Phil and Keely say goodbye to each other and never see each other again…boo), 2) attempting to re-string my guitar (which I barely play as it is) and botching it to the point of breaking both the old string and the new one, 3) reading Dubliners by James Joyce, which I am enjoying thus far, 4) going to lunch with one of my good friends from home and pondering life’s difficulties.

Among these things, I also went to dinner with my retired church music director, who, I am happy to say, is enjoying retirement but, I am displeased to report, is very unhappy with the way the music ministry is going at our parish (you can’t be happy with something if you use the phrase “it’s breaking my heart” to describe it). It really hit me hard when she told me she was retiring over the summer, but now the fact that it’s a reality is something I’m having a hard time coming to grips with. Since I was a very young boy, she’s been the music director of our church. I can remember running up the steps of the organ loft (when the organ was still functional) as a young tyke and saying hello to her. When I decided to join the music ministry at the church as Freshman in high school, little did I know I was going to learn so much from this woman I had known basically all of my life. She’s always been a staunch supporter of everything I’ve done, and I’ve always enjoyed working with her and just talking with her. Although there’s great gap in our age, I’ve always felt like she’s seen me as a peer, which is probably why I’ve always enjoyed passing time with her. Now, I honestly don’t know how to feel, since I know she’s no longer contributing to the parish in the way I’ve always seen her doing so, and I don’t know how I’m going to react when I step into that church tomorrow morning and see someone who (to me) is a complete stranger doing what I’ve seen (and greatly admired) her do for so long.

But, as they say, life goes on, because we and our lives around us change. Charles DuBois once said, “The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.” As much as change can suck, sometimes we have to embrace change wholeheartedly, or else we may never fully attain our potential.

-MJH

In what is becoming a personally disappointing pattern, I have noticed that it has once again been almost a month since I last visited this place.

Could it be because I have been busy with a theatrical production? *shock, awe* Yes, very much so. This, along with the fact that this semester is successfully giving me the back of its hand in many ways, most of which involve driving around rural Indiana observing classrooms.

First things first, in these past six weeks I was involved in rehearsals (and performances) of DePauw Theatre’s production of Moliere’s Tartuffe. I had the joy of working with many familiar faces from DePauw Theatre’s Twelfth Night, with my good friend (and roommate) Jared Norman playing the titular role. I played Cleante, the show’s well-mannered, yet horribly verbose, level-headed voice of reason (who, in my honest opinion, bears a liking to William Daniels’ John Adams in the musical “1776″). With a lot of hard work, the whole production went off without a hitch, with four sold out nights of shows that ended last Sunday.

Monday was an odd experience, given that it marked the first time thus far this semester that I had a night with no rehearsal. I was also feeling pretty good physically, thinking I had avoided my traditional post-production physical meltdown that involves me getting horribly sick.

Then Tuesday came; started feeling feverish that afternoon and ended up cancelling for both voice studio and my night class and going to bed at 9 PM. I proceeded to wake up at 2 AM feeling as if my body was on fire…needless to say that Wednesday morning was no better. I arose at about 10:20 that morning still with said fever; unfortunately, things were not going to get better.

10:49 AM. Call from home. Mom informs me that my uncle Patrick O’Beirne, the husband of my dad’s sister Mary, had passed away the night before at their home in Athlone, Ireland.

All I can remember saying is “What?”

I have always fondly remembered the visits that my Uncle Patrick and Aunt Mary would make to the States from Ireland. Uncle Patrick was a well-read man, and well-spoken too (what Irishman isn’t?). I remember most recently a trip they made to Chicago this past summer. Uncle Patrick bought me a keychain from the Lincoln Museum in Springfield, IL; for some reason I thought it was particularly nice of him to think of me, since I couldn’t make the trip with my parents and them to Springfield. He had an affinity for golf, but was kind enough to always speak with you about almost anything. It was the kind of thing where you felt like what you said really mattered, because he was actually engaged and interested in what you were talking about. I’ve gone through the process of wondering why God would take such a loving and caring man away from his family, but have come to realize, through the wise words of a friend of mine, that if you dwell on questions like that, you’ll only hold on to bitter, negative feelings. My deepest and sincerest condolences go out to everyone affected by the passing of Patrick O’Beirne, father, husband, uncle and friend, among a host of many other things, I am sure.

It’s been a while since I’ve last been here…realized that I needed to reflect a little bit.

I recently re-read the short book “The Shepherd” by Matthew Kelly (those of you who have seen my Facebook lately will recognize this) and I’ve been trying to figure out the following quote:

“…God reveals His will one step at a time, but this creates a great deal of uncertainty, and we don’t like that. In this modern age we try to control all of the elements so that we can have security and stability. If only we could learn to enjoy uncertainty. Uncertainty is a sign that all is well. God is your friend; He will take care of the details.”

There is something profound about that quote. Unfortunately, to me, it’s so profound that I really can’t make it make sense. How can you enjoy uncertainty? I’ve never been the type of person that’s okay with not being “in the know”. I usually try my best to know what’s going on, what people are up to, just to be informed. To me, it kills me to not know some things.

I have previously mentioned a song used in Taize’ prayer called “In the Lord I’ll be ever thankful”; it contains the lyrics “Look to God, Do Not Be Afraid. Lift up your voices, the Lord is near.” For some reason I connect these lyrics with the above quote, but I guess, as easy as it is to say that I can look to God and not be afraid, I have a hard time actually looking to God for help.

In fact, I have a hard time looking to anyone for help. There are friends of mine who point this out that I vehemently deny this fact to, but I’ve become more and more aware of it. Believe me, I’m not one of those folks who sees asking others for help as a sign of “weakness”, but I guess I’ve always felt that I need to be helping someone, not someone needing help.

A good example is a meeting I had last week with my group of First-Year students (for you first-timers, I’m a mentor for a group of First-Year students at DePauw, and we meet during the year to check in and discuss pertinent issues of what’s occurring on campus). I started the meeting by asking everyone in the group to share one high and one low from their experience so far here. We got through everybody and then a couple of them asked me, “So what’s your high and low?” and I sort of deflected the question, but they were persistent and so I shared.

Looking back on it, I can actually remember students from my group last year asking me the same thing and me reacting much the same way. It actually bothers me a bit that I did react the same way this time around; I suppose I still have this same feeling that, being a mentor, my problems aren’t of anyone’s consequence but mine.

I guess I’m slowly learning that enjoying uncertainty would be a hell of a lot easier if I just let myself go every once in a while. If I could own up to the fact that I’m not “above” having problems, or that sometimes we all need to lean on somebody, I might have an easier go of things.

But therein lies the problem: I always am trying. I’m not saying that I need to quit trying, but maybe I need to lessen the intensity of my trying. As they say, whatever happens happens.

So I leave you with the lyrics of a song by the band Carolina Liar (I am fairly aware of the fact that this song is widely played), but I feel the lyrics have a place here (this post’s title is the name of the song):

Wait, I’m wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I’ll be strong
I’m finding it hard to resist
So show me what I’m looking for

I think the uncertainty is the search for what we’re looking for, we’re just not being shown all at once.

-MJH

First day of Junior year, under my belt. As classes go, it was an uneventful day, but, on a spiritual and emotional level it was very jarring, if I can be so bold to use that word.

As I mentioned in my last post, DePauw student Shelby Evans passed away this past summer. Today there was a memorial service held by the University for her and, even though I didn’t know Shelby very well at all, I was deeply touched by the outpouring of support by the amount of people who came to the service, and the kind words that were spoken about her as well.

I didn’t respond emotionally while I was at the service; I felt sad, to be sure, but I just didn’t outwardly react. For some reason, as I left the service, being outside and realizing how much of a treasure just being alive is kind of hit me hard. I could feel the tears slowly falling upon my cheeks as I started walking back to my house, when I was fortunate enough to run into a wonderful friend of mine who could tell I was not in the best shape. In that moment that I ran into her, I think I saw what was referred to on Teen Service Week this year as “God’s thumbprint”. Her concern for my well-being and just being there to pick me up made me feel better, and made me appreciate her friendship even more.

In especially rough times, it’s hard to think that there’s something (or someone) out there that’s watching out for you, or that everything’s “going to be alright” (as I’ve mentioned my mother’s much touted mantra). And yet, somehow, as I see it (and I can respect those that do not), God will provide.

So, as you read this tonight, be thankful for the family, the friends, the people in your life that pick you up when you’re down, or go that extra mile to watch your back, because those are the people that will be there for you, no matter what. And, to be perfectly honest, life wouldn’t be worth living without enjoying the company of the people that care about you.

I leave you with a short verse from the Book of Wisdom, Chapter 3, Verses 1-3, in the memory of Shelby Evans; I hope those of you affected by her passing can find the peace and comfort of God in this time of mourning.

Wisdom, 3 : 1-3
But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.
They seemed, in the view of the foolish,  to be dead; and their passing away was thought to be an affliction
and their going forth from us, utter destruction.
But they are in peace.

-MJH

I currently sit here in my home on an evening when I should be at DePauw for First-Year Experience Mentor training because of unfortunate circumstances.

This past Wednesday, my uncle passed away, at the age of 68. His passing was after a very intense battle with colon cancer, which had led him to be bedridden for the past month, if not more. His loss is tremendous, but the fact that he is no longer suffering is a kind of solace that we must divulge in because there is nothing else.

The thing that really hit me hard was the realization, as my dad had mentioned, that my uncle was only twenty days older than my dad is. That kind of reminder of our own mortality, and how fragile life really is, can be tremendously humbling.

This came along with a remembrance of a person who would have been on the DePauw First Year Experience staff this year who passed away this past summer. She would have been a Junior at DePauw like myself, and, although I didn’t know her very well at all, hearing all the wonderful things that I did about her, it certainly made me realize how a wonderful person had been called to God much before anyone here really wanted her to.

All of this has made me realize that life needs to be lived. As cliche as that sounds, it’s extremely easy to let life pass you by and just let it happen, but you have to realize that you’re not going to remember that one time you took a nap on a Friday afternoon. You’re going to remember the time you went out and volunteered, or saw the sunrise, or watched the sunset, or stayed up all night talking with one of your best friends, because we tend to remember our lives in that sort of episodic kind of way.

Create those moments; seek those opportunities; don’t wake up and realize that you didn’t follow your dream or you didn’t get up the courage to ask that person out who you think is really cute.

But don’t only challenge yourself to live your life, but challenge others too. Draw that person out of their comfort zone, and expect the same out of them.

The mentor/facilitator in me is alive and well. I think my first fear about returning as a mentor was that I was going to be too complacent, but if you try your hardest to own your experiences, then you’re going to reap great rewards.

I know I’m going to try my hardest. I hope you do too.

Not to soapbox, but I’m going to put a Bible verse here that I find comfort in in times of loss. Rest in Peace, Uncle Jim and Shelby Evans.

John 14:1-3
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.”

-MJH

Roughly translated: Thou sacred art, my thanks to thee for this. It’s the last line of a song by Franz Schubert simply titled “An die Musik” or “To Music”.

It was one of the songs on the program of my concert from this afternoon. I was lucky enough to perform in the beautiful Cindy Pritzker Auditorium at the Harold Washington Library Center.  The 45 minute program consisted of Italian arias, German art songs, opera arias, a Hungarian song, English art songs and a few Irish selections. Overall, I feel like it went well (this may change upon further review), as I managed to make it through the entire program with only one break to re-hydrate. There were plenty of compliments afterwards (a good sign) and a decent turnout (a better sign).

I guess the reason I made the line from that Schubert song the title of this post is because it is so expressive of how I truly feel about music at this point in my life. Two nights ago, I decided to look up the translation for the lyrics to “An die Musik” because, unfortunately, I hadn’t up to that point. That was when I realized that the song was basically an ode to music itself. It was after reading those lyrics that I realized, no matter how frustrating I had ever found music, I had to be thankful for the reality that music has brought me great joy and fortune (albeit not in an ultimately financial sense).

Speaking of being thankful for music, I must also say that I’m thankful for good company and good times, which summer usually brings an abundance of both. Myself and two compatriots have created a YouTube video as part of a contest by Japanese band the pillows, to try to win a trip to Japan. So, if you will humor me, please head to YouTube and watch the video. Yours truly is on lead vocals and faking his way through drum set (no comments from the peanut gallery, please). After watching the video, I remembered how good of a time I had making it, just spending time with fun people having fun.

I’m hoping there’s more in store (1.5 weeks until DePauw )

-MJH