When we think of growth, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Naturally, the first image that appears (at least, in my mind anyway) is an image of nature - a stalk of grass, or perhaps a tree or a flower. And yes, while it is true that we often associate growth with nature, the growth I am going to talk about today is human growth - the kind of growth that has occurred within me over the past 9 months.
When I first applied to St. Therese Institute of Faith and Mission, I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into. Back in January of 2024, little did I know that throughout the course of the year, I would be taking two hour long classes, attending silent retreats, witnessing the ordination of a priest for the first time, encountering people who I never would have met outside of this institute, performing acts in kitchen parties (I never saw that one coming!), or even baking all sorts of goods for my fellow students.
When I look back at the year at St. Therese Institute as a whole, I can see how much I have grown. But when I reflected on any given day (while attending St. Therese), my own growth was hidden from me. The moment I began to examine my day, the past couple days, or even the past week, I simply could not see the growth. And yet it was precisely the same schedule, the same day-to-day practices that were all forming me to become who I am today. Yes, it was in those moments of the mundane, in the demands of the schedule, and especially in the "duty of the moment" that I was truly progressing, even though it was hidden from me.
And yet, growth is like that, isn't it? When we look at, say, the short-term growth of a plant from day-to-day, we do not actively see the plant growing. But over the course of several months, or even years, as we look back, we can clearly see that there was a whole process of maturing and growing. And what was the result of this process? Or, maybe the question is: does this process ever end?
When I had the opportunity of speaking with a Jesuit priest this past year, he pointed out that maturity (an important aspect of growth) is not just a state - it is a continual growth. To be mature, from a simple understanding, means to be growing. Maturity is not just a state that I can one day suddenly reach - quite the opposite! It is this continual process of growing in knowledge, understanding, and, from a Christian's perspective, growing in the virtues, especially the virtue of charity. And it was by entering in deeply to the program at St. Therese where this maturity and growth was fostered.
If I could touch on the "duty of the moment" for a bit, I would say that this was the most practical teaching I received. The basic idea of this mentality is asking oneself, "Where is God calling me to serve Him in this particular moment?" If it is attending to the chores that need to be done, so I ought to willingly embrace the task with love. If it is continuing a poor attempt at personal prayer in the morning while still half-asleep, so be it. I learned to embrace it all. Well, over time.
Initially, I persisted in trying to do all the things the schedule demanded of me, but it was not working. Why? It was because I was trying to do it all of my own strength, all of my own abilities, and I was not working with my weaknesses. What I learned was to work with both my strengths and my weaknesses. So yes, there were a lot of mornings when I failed to finish personal prayer. Yes, there were many days where I was unbelievably tired (exhausted even) and had no desire to attend classes, knowing how tired I was. But I discovered, over the year, that even if it meant taking a little time to drink a coffee, or eat a little more protein for breakfast, it was the small "sacrifice", of attending to my weaknesses (namely, my tiredness) that truly helped me to grow in virtue, and be present in the moment.
Ironic, isn't it, how the little things we do affect us so much? And yet, in both my weaknesses and my strengths, God was forming me into the disciple of His that I am called to be. I am by no means in a state of perfection, and I have certainly not attained the highest degree of holiness. But I'm on the road still, slowly, but surely trekking along. And that growth I was talking about - well, despite the fact that I can't always see it, it is happening.
Indeed there is growth, hidden from me most of the time, yet the Gardener's hands are creating a beautiful garden - a garden which I one day hope to see clearly.
