Tag: Isabelle Redfield

I definitely wouldn’t consider myself an open book in general, especially regarding religion. But, a lot of my spirituality has actually come from my being here at Catalina, so considering I probably will never have another chance to talk about my religion in front of a large group of people I actually like, I want to share my honest and unedited letter to the bishop about why I wish to be confirmed in the Catholic Church, because it sort of doubles as a reflection on my time here. It goes like this:

Dear Bishop Garcia,
I have wanted to continue my Catholicism this year through Confirmation for several reasons. Perhaps my most driving force is that I never want to lose faith. I am headed to college next year. I am certain I will lose my way more than a few times. I will no longer be required to show up to Sunday mass, and in many ways I’ll be held less accountable for my actions. I never want to forget or push aside some of the most spiritually formidable moments I’ve had these past four years.
Until Catalina, religion was never incorporated into my schooling or daily life. My parents had me baptized as a matter of course, I had my first communion, and I went to mass maybe six times out of the year when I lived in San Francisco. It was not until my sophomore year here when I really felt the value and the extremely strong connection to God and the saints that I do today.

The simple comfort of having the doors to our Rosary Chapel open at all times has enabled it to serve as my safe space. I’ve cried in those very pews and questioned life, my existence, and my purpose more than you’d think.

I once spent some time with a legitimate horse whisperer and he told me something that has stuck with me forever and that is: “You are 100% responsible for 50% of every relationship that you’re in.” So, my intention in going through Confirmation this year has been to at least try and figure out if I can even get my “relationship percentage” with God up to 10%.  My biggest hope for the future is to one day never see religion as an on-and-off switch. It is so easy for me to connect with God and pray in troubled times when I’m upset, confused, and in doubt. That said, when things are going well in my life, and I am content with where I am, I have much more trouble connecting to God and the saints.

But I no longer want to lean on my faith only in times of trouble; I want it to be present with me at all times.  I truly want my faith to withstand my life’s journey, and I hope that one day my faith will become a more fluid part of me.

I see God in the unexpected places. I remember sobbing in these pews when my grandfather died, when best friend’s dad committed suicide, when I was in the middle of the college application process, and when I’ve been tested in relationships with loved ones. I can distinctly recall a flash of light, a flickering of a candle, and other more personal signs that have made me certain I am not alone.
I have so much hope and expectation for my future. I have so much happiness and love within me. God has blessed me in more ways than I can count. I am extremely thankful. My greatest wish is for God to continue to guide me through times both troubled and wonderful, to bless me in moments both good and bad, and to always be with me—even when I’m in doubt.

It is my promise to God and our world to give back and share the gifts and talents he’s blessed me with.

I hope throughout my life that God continues to instill graciousness, humility, and strength in me. I want to continue to become a better friend, daughter, student, employee, and leader. As I continue to grow, I want to act more softly with more kindness, openness, and love. All around, I am so blessed and could not be more thankful for the life I have been given. I will miss this time in my life, this chapel, and those who have touched me. I will always hold my years here at Santa Catalina deep in my heart, knowing it was my purpose to spend my time here and not anywhere else. I thank you for your time, for the gift of my confirmation, and my future. Please bless me, my family, my loved ones, and those in need.
Lastly, to God, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, even when I don’t express it.

Kindly,
Isabelle Redfield

I felt consumed by my online life, profile appearances, and the carefully-picked, highly-thought-out, edited pictures that showered my days. Considering unfollowing someone is the equivalent of saying, “I really don’t care about you.” I found myself seeing posts from acquaintances I could have sworn I never agreed to. Inevitably, I lost the daily interest to keep up with so many people’s manicured lives. I wanted to take some time for myself.

The bathroom, Chapel, formal dinners, the laundry room, a five-minute walk around campus, lunch with friends. These are just some of the many unnecessary appointments I made certain my phone joined me for. A well-worn love quote, “You’re the first thing I think of each morning when I rise; you’re the last thing I think of when I close my eyes,” essentially illustrates my former affinity towards Instagram. After turning off my morning alarm, Instagram was the first app I opened. At night, after setting my alarm, it was the last app I closed. One Sunday evening, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to delete every last social media app my phone held. My fingers worked hastily.

Once the deed was done, I put my phone down, and something in me, even if it was minor, shifted.

Though my act was a seemingly insignificant and rash adjustment, my life felt very different. Logistically, I hardly ever had to charge my phone. Until now, I was convinced my iPhone 6 battery was faulty; I’ve since figured out it’s me, not you, Apple. This realization is still slightly difficult to accept. My mornings became more peaceful, I paid attention at the lunch table, and I couldn’t be disappointed by a lack of notifications–there were no tagged memes to be notified of. I poured my time into my friends, myself, and my schoolwork (not that there was much). The items scattering my various to-do lists were checked off immediately, and I finally started going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Other than WSJ articles, there was simply no reason to sit on my phone anymore. Each day I got hours of my life back.

Since even in the most boring of moments resorting to the ‘explore’ page on Instagram was not an option, I instantly became productive in my free time.

Whenever I had the urge to type “Faceb-” into my search bar, I clicked on this blog instead. Any time I had nothing to do in Environmental Science, I clicked on this blog. I replaced scrolling with writing. As I think anyone will agree, there’s something so satisfying in the production of tangible work.

I missed two things while on my short-lived diet. Naturally, I missed the hilarious life moments I’d normally capture through Snapchat. I was forced to take camera roll pictures and send them in group chats. Perhaps I lived slightly more in the moment, but my humor proved less effective. Secondly, I genuinely missed the search bar of my Facebook. Random questions like, “Where does she go to school again?” or “What’s her boyfriend’s name?” went totally unanswered.

I was reminded daily that our generation’s main form of communication is through social media. Of course, I talked to dozens of people via text and FaceTime over the two weeks. Not that I questioned my friendships, but it was reassuring to see these relationships prove stronger than a mere like or comment.

Best of all, I felt autonomous. I didn’t feel excluded.

Instead, I felt a kind of purposeful and peaceful detachment. By the third day I had no urge to get back online.

I’ve always gawked at the few people my age whose lives exist purely offline. Only after my digital “cleanse” did I face the simplicity and beauty my everyday life presented me with, but that I typically ignored.

I’ll leave you with advice you’ve heard before and will hear again. This is because it is pure:

Our accounts are highlight reels of the most photogenic, manicured, and bright times in our lives.

With that, we still reconstruct, censor, and doctor our most “postable” of moments. Almost nothing on a screen can paint a full picture. As much as I try, neither my pictures nor my writing will tell all. This is the way social media goes, and we’ll accept it. However, we must not lose ourselves in a series of small squares.