My God, I love you, but … oh, teach me to love!
-St. Josemaria Escriva
At Notre Dame the opportunities to love abound: Be good to your friends, devote yourself to study, give freely through social service, frequent Mass and the sacraments, and do that thing you do under the Lyons’ Arch (or maybe not).
Graduating from Notre Dame and setting out in the real world was timely, anticipated, and necessary. And this real, often perturbing experience is a very good thing for one very significant reason: it’s teaching me how to love. This love, though, is different than before. It requires more activity than I remember, demanding the initiative, drive, and focus that I only recall properly giving to my studies as an undergraduate.
Playing catch with my little brother, John, means losing baseballs in the gutter when I’m tired from a day of work. This leisure of self giving doesn’t have the appeal of a lazy Saturday afternoon in April on South Quad. It’s much easier to thank the kitchen staff at South Dining Hall than it is to wash mom’s dirty dishes. Getting a good grade, praise from teachers, and the genuine sense of intellectual fulfillment that comes with education is much different than data analysis, which purpose is often unknown.
With great demands, though, so too is the love. My brother, John, now 13, is one of the sharpest wits and gentlest souls I have ever known. Laughing with him on the asphalt street as baseballs bounce off curbs and mailboxes has increased my sense of gratitude to my dad and mom for making this marvelous family, and to that little son of a gun, lazy as sin and funny as hell, who will continue to be the best of friends and the ablest of companions.
Then there’s my mother, a full head shorter than me, who can cut me in half with a disapproving stare, then stoop to pick up the pieces and put me back together again with one of the best hugs on God’s green earth. She makes a mean pasta dish, too, and I’m happy to help clean that up.
Finally there’s my job, where I am surrounded by genuine and caring souls. There’s K., a Saint Mary’s grad, with real Irish warmth that shines through whether she’s talking about her three children or that football squad on the midwestern plains. Down the hall is M., who drives over a thousand miles on the weekends to visit his teenage daughter in South Carolina. Then there’s my boss, L., who is intent on making sure that some stimulating and interesting work comes my way, though I am largely untested.
With a proper perspective, I am beginning to discover that this new love builds upon that which I have already experienced at Notre Dame. I have to step out more, try harder, and stop worrying about myself because, when I do, the friendships, relationships, and grace-filled moments are as present, and perhaps more profound, than before.
This new task is difficult, but comes with much hope. Like most challenges, it is happening in fits and starts, but each setback confirms the way forward and the goal: to give fully of myself to others, and to receive the fullness of their love in return.
Tom studied math and philosophy at Notre Dame and graduated last May. He currently works as an analyst for the US Army at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland. He can be contacted at tbounds1@gmail.com.
