Don’t Be A Hero

I have certain times when I habitually pray throughout the day. It’s usually when I wake up, whenever I eat, while I’m in the shower, and when I go to bed. I often pray before I start work, or when I get writer’s block, but sometimes I forget. Otherwise, my prayers throughout the day are pretty random. I tell God when I notice the sky is pretty and things like that. I’m rather simple sometimes.

I realized something while I was praying in the shower this evening, though. I find myself apologizing to God a lot, and it’s not because I’m a sinner. I know I’m a sinner. I know I need to work on stuff, and I know he’s forgiven me, and I know he’ll always forgive me. What I apologize about is actually stupid. I apologize for things I don’t need to be sorry for. I apologize because I’m not a hero.

I realized that I still have a hero complex that I thought I left behind a long time ago. It drives me completely insane that I can’t have my own apartment so I can give homeless strangers a place to stay. It drives me crazy that I’m not “able-bodied” so I can get a well-paid job and adopt a troubled kid who really needs a good mom. The fact that I can’t go be a missionary in a third-world country makes me want to tear my hair out. It sucks that I know and believe that prayer is super powerful and works, but I don’t feel it.

I apologize that I’m not a hero, when I’m physically incapable of being a hero. That’s just it, though. This is my idea of a hero. Heroes do grande, noticeable things. I lurk in my bedroom and write weird stories, and I pray because that’s all I can do. I pray for the people doing the things I can’t do, and I pray for the people who need their help, but I want to be there.

I recently came across Saint Faustina, who is completely awesome. She had mystical encounters with Jesus, and this is what he said to her:

“I want you to be very little, because when you are little, I carry you close to My Heart. Because you are weak, I take you in My arms and carry you to the home of My Father.”

He also said,

“My child, know that the greatest obstacles to holiness are discouragement and exaggerated anxiety.”


Another mystic by the name of Sister Consolata Betrone received this message from Jesus:

“You only worry about loving me, and I will take care of everything else to the smallest detail.”

This is hard for me. I like to be independent. I don’t mind being told what to do or following directions or even working on a team, but I like to have an objective and, if possible, I like to have the freedom to be a little creative. I like to be able to complete the task I’ve been given and have that sense of accomplishment after. I think I was able to ignore my hero complex more when I was in high school and college because I had objectives and tasks I could complete and I got that sense of accomplishment when I passed a difficult test or got an “A” on a paper. Those were my duties. Come to class and participate. Pass the test. Write the paper. Do the homework. Get the degree. Graduate.

Now I’m in this weird position where I don’t feel as much like I have objectives. My mom told me to write a book. She didn’t give me a deadline. She didn’t tell me what it should be about. She didn’t give me work hours. She’s never complained when I’ve taken unnecessary time off. I feel like I’m floating around with no anchor. I know I can finish my mythology, and finishing each individual story does give me a small sense of accomplishment, but it’s certainly not a huge thrill. I have a list of stories that I need to write, and others may be added later, if need be. Once all my stories are written, I need to research and find an editor and either self-publish, or find publishers to submit to. What will come after that, I have no idea, but I hope I can be philanthropic.

Originally I was writing for two reasons. The first was because my mom told me to. The second was because my medical issues make it nearly, if not entirely impossible to get a “real” job. I want to go big, and I want to be a hero. Jesus says to get small, to love him, and to pray. He says to let him take care of everything. A while ago I realized I had only one real reason for writing my book. God is helping me write it. It’s his, and I want him to use it. Earlier I prayed that he would help me to lose the hero complex. I’m not a hero, and never can be in the way I think of a hero. I have to let Jesus be the hero.



Earlier today I accidentally said “I love you” to a friend before hanging up the phone. He said it back, and it didn’t seem to phase him, but to me at least, it’s still a little awkward. He has a fiance, and he knows I don’t “like” him in that way, but I don’t think I’ve ever said that to him. It was just automatic. I say “I love you” to certain people when I hang up the phone. It’s just a little weird for me because I used to have a crush on him, and I don’t know if he knows that. Furthermore, he’s been my guitar teacher, a spiritual mentor, and for a short time, my boss. For the record, he was calling to reschedule my violin lesson because he’s commandeering my lesson room to work on a recording project with another client and the studio needs to be quiet. I’ve been told I make an awful lot of noise.

Earlier this morning I had a little talk with God. I’ve been trying to let him drive, and in doing that, I’ve been trying to figure out what he needs me to be doing. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I don’t entirely control my own fate. My Muscular Dystrophy keeps me from doing a lot of what I would consider “heroic” things. I’m not a hero in the way I would like. For a long time I’ve thought of myself as a minor character in someone else’s story, though whose I’m not sure. I’ve thought that I’ll always be the harmony to someone else’s melody. You get the idea. This morning I had a different thought. I’ve been trying to be the main character in a story that isn’t mine. I have to figure out what my story is.

There is a part of me that has always wanted to counter evil. I’ve never entirely figured out how. There are a lot of reasons for this. I’m still financially unstable, I’m not physically capable of doing a lot of things, and admittedly, I have short attention span, among other things. The leaders in the Church, and people all over the world and all over the internet emphasize the power of prayer. I know it works. I’ve seen miracles happen, but I’m impatient, and it seems counter-intuitive to think that just asking for something means you will get it, even if it’s not in the way you had imagined.

My story will never be a grand epic. At least I don’t imagine it will be. This morning I told God that there are important problems in this world that I just don’t and can’t care about. One simply cannot care about every single world problem. We’d all fall apart if we did. I care the most about two things: the salvation of my friends, and the destruction of ISIS–eventually, an ultimate end to war. Neither of these things are easy to achieve, and I’m not sure how much I can do about the second issue.

I’ve been trying to understand the Holy Spirit a bit more, and I’ve come to realize that he doesn’t give power to humans, at least not in the way we think. The way I understand it is that in this world that God has created, there is a physical realm and a spiritual realm. God can work in and manipulate both on his own, but in the physical realm, he often prefers to use physical means of doing things. He uses people to get his work done. He doesn’t give us power. He uses us as vessels of his power. I’m hesitant to say he works through us because to me that sounds like he kind of works around us, which isn’t exactly true. What I’m trying to explain is that we can’t just do whatever we want with the power that he gives us. It’s only “helpful” if we follow his lead.

I’ve been praying about it for at least three years now, but I constantly have to remind myself that I can’t save my friends. Not only that, but God can’t save them unless they choose to believe. Changing the spiritual opinions of five very smart, very opinionated people is not an easy task. I just wish I could get inside their heads and figure out what keeps them from believing. I’ve only been a Christian for five years or so, but I can’t imagine going through life, especially going all through college and adulthood not knowing that I’m being cared for and that, no matter what, everything is going to be okay. If nothing else, it makes me so much more comfortable with the fact that the future is uncertain, at least from my point of view.

I became Christian when I accidentally said “I love you” to God. I believed in his existence before I knew him, and I prayed about things with increasing frequency, especially after my first semester at a Christian college. I’m starting to think that that accidental “I love you” means something. “I love you” is something you say when you’re being your most honest and your most vulnerable. Come to think of it, I’ve been saying it to my closest friends more overall lately. I often find myself hesitating to say it because it’s corny, or because I question whether it’s an appropriate thing to say in certain situations, but I’m starting to think that life is too short, and you should never hold back those words.

I will never be the hero in a traditionally epic story, but there are five lost souls that I could have a hand in finding. Whether or not a story is important or interesting is largely a matter of semantics. The size and actual scope of this story seems small, and I haven’t taken a close enough look at what’s at stake. The setting of this story is largely in words on the internet, in my house, and in our heads. I’m not taking up arms against demons, and I’m not magically saving anyone. It’s not a story I would likely read. It’s my story nonetheless, and I will gladly be its hero. That accidental “I love you” is my weapon. I am God’s ambassador to the dark souls of my friends. I can do that because I’ve studied theology and philosophy and writing. I know how to debate, and most importantly, I know how to love.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Super Hero Complex

I thought about something after I posted yesterday. I think I have a super hero complex; or at least that’s what I call it. When I go to bed at night I pray and then I go to my fantasy world. In my fantasy world I’m a fairly different person. The character I made up to represent myself is named Kithryd. She lives on a farm outside of a small town that borders a deep and mysterious forest. She often goes on adventures in there and is fully capable of taking care of herself. I’ve tried to write stories about her and her adventures, but I can never finish them and yesterday I figured out why.

I love fantasy and science fiction because it is usually far more interesting than real life. I love mythical creatures and magic and the fight of good versus evil. Eventually, the stories I read or watch come to an end because the fight is over. Life will go back to normal for the characters and there’s nothing more to write about. I can’t write these stories because I can’t bare to bring them to an end.

This is bothersome in context with what I posted about yesterday. Yesterday I posted that I want to be someone’s rock. I want to help someone who is feeling alone or depressed or just confused about life. The problem is that it will forever bother me that there are thousands of people without someone or something to be their rock and if I help one person, I’ll want to help others. On one level, there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, but I’m worried that it could lead me to be less committed to a friendship or a relationship than I should be.

To be completely honest, part of the reason I want a very close friendship or a relationship is so that I have someone to help me and so that I don’t have to live with my parents forever or pay a stranger to help me with things. Luckily, I can do most things on my own, but because I can’t straighten my legs, I need a lot of help with some things.

I had never really thought about this stuff all at once until yesterday and I realized how complicated it is. I had to really think about how much love or friendship is involved in the relationship I want. On a purely emotional level, I would absolutely love to have a relationship with a guy, but I know that I could live without it. One of my aunts has been single her entire life and has been very happy. She lives alone and while she loves to spend time with friends and family, she also loves alone time. I can tolerate alone time. I don’t love it, but sometimes it’s nice and when it’s not I can deal with it well enough. I just like to have people around. Even if I’m not directly engaged in doing something with them, I like the noise they make and the fact that they fill a little part of the room. I don’t like when it’s too quiet. I would absolutely die if I had to live in an apartment all by myself.

I guess I need to be realistic. I can’t help everyone. I should be happy if I can help just one person. I don’t need to be everyone’s best friend to help them either. In fact, I don’t want to be everyone’s best friend. I feel that having a best friend is the best thing for people, but I have to remind myself yet again that it’s not my job. I’m meant to help, and helping just one person can still mean a lot. I’ve written about it, but I have to remind myself that simple acts of kindness can go a long way, whether I know it or not. Real heroes sometimes do great things without ever knowing about the effects of their actions, and they do it out of the kindness of their hearts. They don’t need to know that what they’re doing is working. They just need to know that they might be making a difference.