Las Manos De Monja

"Hold my hand. I promise I'll do all I can. 

Things will get better if you just hold my hand.

Nothing came come between us if you just hold my hand."

- Akon & Michael Jackson, Hold My Hand

Archbishop Chaput with Students of the New Cristo Rey School in Philadelphia.
Disclaimer: Photo is from Chaput's Facebook page.

    It's always been a dream of mine to be fluent in at least one other language aside from English. When I was younger, my idol was Celine Dion and since she was French Canadian, my dream became to learn French. After studying French for four years in high school, I stopped studying it. However, I use my French more now that I'm not studying it, than I did while studying it. Just last night I was having a conversation with one of the Jamaican boys in French. While I love the French language, I realized that it's not very widely spoken here in the United States, and so, when I got to college, I decided to try Spanish. I fell in love with the language. It fell into place with my other dreams of teaching in inner city schools and poverished areas of our country. Did you know that according to the last US Census, 35 million people ages 5 and older spoke Spanish in their homes? That's a pretty huge amount. So, I tweaked my dream of learning a different language; Spanish now, instead of French. Even last year, I toyed around with picking up a minor of Spanish for the Teaching Profession. However, my credits didn't allow room for another minor. But my dream of learning Spanish is still very prominent in my heart. My day at the new Cristo Rey High School in Philadelphia solidified that dream for me.

    It was an experience quite unexpected. I knew nothing about the new opening of Cristo Rey except that it was in the process of being opened. Suddenly, I was asked, along with a few of my peers, to travel to North Philly to sing for the opening Mass. When I first heard the music, I was ecstatic. Not only were we singing a few songs in Spanish, but also Swahili. If you know me, you know me, the thing that most easily warms my heart is African music with drums and the beautiful African voices! As we sang it, I was reminded of Sunday Mass in Jamaica and I almost cried for the beauty of it. The sea of diversity in the congregation between the students, the family, the faculty and those whose passion in life is Cristo Rey was even more beautiful! I was in awe of the whole Mass and could not swipe the smile off my face. It was totally God's Divine Providence that brought me there because during the intercessions (which were spoken in a few different languages), I realized that THIS is the teaching job I had always dreamed of. So, maybe God wants me to head there post graduation. We will see where God points me.

      However, this leads me back to "las manos de monja." The night before Cristo Rey, I got an email from one of the sisters telling me I had the hands of a nun (all because I made her guacamole). I laughed and laughed a much needed laugh. I have the hands of a nun?! I thought. So, in my prayer at Cristo Rey, I reflected on what that really means. I know I want to be what I call "Flufftastic" when I become a sister (which really means being huggable and giving the best hugs). But hands? When I look at my hands now, I see slightly callused hands, bitten down fingernails and cuticles from bad nervous habits, and a ring from my grandma. My hands are tiny hands, just barely bigger than my little sister's hands. And what have my hands done? These hands have built houses, fed children, changed diapers, written letters, made guacamole, blew kisses, colored, done homework, and most importantly, have held other hands. I am a hand holder and a hugger; human touch is important to me. A child knows he or she is loved when a parent gives a hug. A teenager knows he or she is loved when someone holds his or her hand. A husband or wife knows they are loved by the touch of his or her spouse. An elderly knows the love through a hand to hold as well. So many hands my hands have held. But what makes my hands different from anyone else's?

      My hands will teach, not only by the words I will type on the computer, or write on the blackboard (they better still have those when I'm a teacher...not kidding), or the encouragements I write or papers, but by example, too. I know my hands are willing to touch the hands of the stickiest child in the orphanage, or the rough hands of the student touched by violence, or the aged hands of the my elderly sisters, or the hands of those who have suffered greatly. My hands will build not only houses, but homes and love. But most importantly, I want my hands to never grow old, so that I can continue holding the hands of all peoples just like the hands of those who built Cristo Rey. 

      I was so blessed to be touched by those at Cristo Rey and I am so blessed to know that I, too, have that potential. I hope I never lose "mis manos de monja!"

Fire Drill Perks

"It was a sting operation by the nuns; 

they wanted the whole school to go to daily Mass."

- Mike Gallagher

     A daily morning for me: wake up at 6:15 am, take a shower, get dressed in the outfit I picked out the night before, brush my teeth, brush my hair, grab my Office book and head out the door. Today my morning consisted of waking up, taking a shower, getting dressed, brushing my teeth and running out the door as the fire alarm went off throughout the whole entire building. 

    People were strolling casually out of their rooms in their pajamas, house coats and bedroom slippers. Meanwhile, I was dressed and ready to go and yelling at my roommate to get out of bed. There are six fire exit doors in the building and the entirety of my building decided to go out ONE. Needless to say, while the building was "burning down," we were stuck at a standstill on the second floor staircase landing. Finally, my roommate and I didn't care about how many people just got up. Someone started screaming about the second fire escape door at the bottom of the staircase (which, when opened, signals another alarm which scared the daylights out of the freshmen). Finally, we all made it outside. One of the freshmen, who I just befriended during orientation, came up to me and asked how quickly I got dressed. One of my close friends corrected her by saying, "The right question to ask her is how long she's been up..." We all laughed. Of course, we had to jump on the Twitter hashtag bandwagon and say, "Daily Mass Goer Perks." Then I started to think of all the perks of our early morning fire drill. 

    If you know me, you know that I'm always trying to find the positive points of an event. So, as we were all standing outside (in the rain, mind you), I started listing the perks of this fire drill. One: No one can be late for class today since the alarm went off at 6:45. Two: We all now know that are SIX fire escape doors. Three: We are all comfortable with each other's pajama habits. Four: We all got our "showers" outside in the rain. Five: I got to Mass on time. 

    Ok, so now that we have those listed, I must explain that every time we have a fire drill here, we try to figure out who made a stupid move to set off the alarm. Some of the past stupid moves were not putting water in pasta in the microwave, leaving the hot straightening iron on and having a space heater under the sink. So as all the freshmen were regretting their decision to come to a school that has fire drills at the crack of dawn, the upper classmen like myself were trying to figure out what set the alarm off. Some of the excuses I heard were: oatmeal in the new microfridges, a curling iron, the new alarm clock system for the freshmen, it was Jesus trying to wake me up (thanks to my good friend, Matt) and the best, by far, was stated by my best friend, Mike, "It's a sting operation put on by all the nuns to get the whole school to go to Mass with Becca." Yep, THAT  IS EXACTLY why we had a fire drill this morning. 

     The true life matter is, no one knows what set the alarm off this morning, but it was definitely NOT a drill. There were a few nuns in their pajamas this morning, too, along with the entirety of my building. The true life matter is that we need to constantly find the perks of upsetting situations because if we don't, we'll spend our life miserable. We have to learn how to laugh at the surprises God throws at us. And we have to accept everyone, regardless of their nightgowns, boxer shorts or bathrobes. Yep, there are perks to fire drills and so many other things in life. 

A Spiritual Snuggle

"Didn't you just ever need a hug, or a cuddle, or a snuggle 

and then you went to your favorite mentor and had coffee? 

It fixed everything right? They snuggled you without actually snuggling you."

      Everyone needs a Spiritual Snuggle. There are plenty of times when we are feeling down, frustrated, scared, or upset and we feel empty. We feel as if we are missing something. Our hearts are down and our souls need some uplifting. Some of us turn to our beds to "sleep off" the bad feelings, some go to the kitchen, some go to the shower, some go for a run, and some go to prayer. Me? I go to my Spiritual Snuggler. 

      We've had a busy, rough week here at school for student leaders. We've had to sit through tons of trainings for various leadership positions, be in fifty different places at once and wear five different shirts at the same time. Communicative sometimes got choppy (my biggest pet peeve) and attitudes were at their breaking limitations. If I didn't know myself, I'd have broken down...but I do know myself. I know that when things get tough, I need to remove myself for a mere few minutes and breathe. Every single day this week, when things would get rough, I'd plant myself in my Spiritual Snuggler's office for those moments of breathers. 

      She is always there for me...literally, her office is an OPEN DOOR. There were some days this week when I walked in and she asked if it was a "Closed or Open Door" conversation. She knows me. She would sometimes sit with me at her table or she would let me just be there with her while venting, or she would walk with me back to where I had to be. Whenever someone asks me where my favorite place on campus is, I have to say her office. It's perfect for her and her spiritual snuggles.

     So what is a spiritual snuggle? It's a moment where someone listens to you for a few seconds or maybe a few minutes or even hours. It's when someone doesn't mind sacrificing a few moments when she passes you by. It's when someone gives you an unexpected hug or an encouraging pat on the shoulder. It's when someone sends you a random smile somehow. It's when someone goes out of their way to give you some much needed love. It's when someone takes your spirit and snuggles it either physically, emotionally or spiritually, real close and lets you know it will be ok! 

     And so, during my hectic week, I was so blessed to have my Spiritual Snuggler so close by and so willing to give me all the spiritual snuggles I needed. 

A Sea of God

"A dreamer is a vessel; I will sail my vessel

til the river runs dry. 

I'll never reach my destination if I never try.

So, I will sail my vessel."

- Garth Brooks

     As some of you know, I'm a student leader at my college and so, I got the chance to move in a week early and attend meetings and workshops all week (which will essentially be my future as an educator...). Today, I and my fellow peers were given the opportunity to attend the first ever Student Leadership Institute at my University. The day included multiple sessions and seminars we could attend to learn more about aspects of leadership. One in particular was called "At Sea With God." However, one of my friends misread the title and called it "A Sea of God." For some reason, I found that a little more fitting.

     You see, one of the question presented was, "If I were a boat, what type of boat would I be?" So many different types of boats were presented like fishing boats, sail boats, kayaks, canoes, passenger liners, cargo ships, ice breakers and so many more. However, I didn't need those options to choose from. I already knew what type of boat I would be. There was a picture on the screen, similar to the one above. That's my boat. 

      I absolutely love water. As Brad Paisley says, "I have a love affair with water." True life. But I absolutely love being in/on boats. While I'm terrified of sinking in a huge passenger liner in the middle of the ocean, I would have no qualms about sailing in a little boat across the ocean. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to build a boat like this with my dad and then do something crazy like sail across the ocean with him. True story. I would absolutely love it.

       So why a meager, little, wooden sailboat? Well for one, Jesus was a carpenter. However, there's barely any room from anyone in my boat. Just me. And my journey through life has been and will be the road less traveled, or the seas less sailed. So, I am solo in my journey. However, many people come and go in my life so, of course, there is room for one person if they choose. But I am the only person that can live this life God has planned for me. So, it's a small boat. This means there's not much room for belongings. I've always had this desire to get rid of everything but a few necessities. So in my boat, I'd have only a few things. I'd have my trusty adventure backpack (I've seriously become so attached to that old thing...), my journal, a throw away camera (or a few), a blanket, of course, maybe a pair of flip flops, my bathing suit definitely, my bible, some changes of clothes, and my teddy bear. Oh, and some food. But that's it. I don't need much, so why bring much. My little boat gives enough room to sleep in, and enough room to sail in, and to row in. I would love it. Oh and the name of my boat would be Humility. 

      This boat not only sighs adventure, but it look worn, after much use. It looks like it's withstood so much challenge and chaos. It shows the hard work of long laboring and sailing. I imagine that big, tough, calloused hands have made my boat; the hands of my God. You see, God has given me the sea to sail, but it is up to me to get my boat moving. So, I must sail, catch God's wind, or row. Sometimes the waves will get rough and bumpy, sometimes there might be a storm at sea, and sometimes the waters will be calm. My little boat will be able to withstand it all; it's had tons of practice! And to be honest, I don't know if I'd have an anchor in my boat except only to be anchored in Christ, because I know with God, He will take me so many places. I won't be staying anywhere for real long!

        Yes, that is my boat. A tiny, humble sailboat. Made from wood by hand. Roughed up by years of sailing, but able to withstand so many more years!! But most importantly it will be at sea with God in the sea of God. I will constantly be surrounded by God as I will be surrounded by water. It will just like being wrapped in a hug with Jesus!!! In my boat! 

Always A Daddy's Girl

"A Daddy holds pictures of his daughters in his wallet 

where his money used to be."

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived and let me watch him do it."

-Clarence Budington Kelland

     This morning's Gospel was about Jesus telling the little ones to come to Him. Our homilist today spoke about how God loves when we act as children (not childish...) because children are so easy to love. In listening to the Gospel, I reflected back to a question sparked in one of my Theology classes my Freshmen year of College. Sister asked the class to imagine God as Daddy...not Father, but Daddy. She told us to imagine what He would look like, smell like, feel like, act like. I remember sharing with the class that my God as "Daddy" had a bristly beard and sat on the sofa after a long day of work. He would smell like oil and machinery, and wear a dark, plaid shirt that was soft from wear. He would probably have some stains on his pants, too, from work. But the best part of my God as "Daddy" was curling up on his lap and sticking my head in the crook of his neck while we napped and watched the news before dinner. I felt safe there and protected; nothing was going to hurt me. In response, Sister said, "Well that description is so good, either because you're an English major OR you've had that experience." Without realizing it, I had described a typical day with my earthly Daddy when I was younger. Yes my God as "Daddy" was exactly like my earthly Daddy. Which totally explains why I've always been a "Daddy's Girl" in both ways. 

       Last week, my daddy took off from work to spend a week's vacation with his three "little" girls. Every morning, after I would come home from Mass, we'd take off, headed for a new adventure. Whether we were going to Roadside America in the middle of no where Pennsylvania or traipsing through North Philadelphia just to find the "World's Largest Cellophaned  Piece of Apple Pie," it was a new adventure. My dad was always one to "wander." He has a gypsy soul and always had dream of sailing around the world, navigating by the stars. I love that about him. I guess that's where I get my desire for adventure and my own gypsy soul. I get my deep faith from my daddy, and my undying, obnoxious and rambunctious laughter from him, too. I get my quiet peace (occasionally) from him but what I really get from him, is his simplicity.

       "You're like a Sunday morning, full of grace and full of Jesus. I wish I could be more like you," I wish I could say to him, because it's true. He's the most humble man I know, and the most selfless. (I knew I was going to cry while writing this....) If anyone asks me about my daddy, I instantly go off talking about how much I love him. I talk about how is my best friend, and that without him, I don't know where I would be. I really do love my daddy so much because of all he selflessly does for me. He works twelve hours a day, five days a week just so he can put me and my sisters through CATHOLIC school. He comes home from those twelve hour shifts and cooks dinner for us kids. He drives out to school just to see me on a Sunday night at Mass. He'll mail me stupid things on crazy holidays just so I get mail (because I love mail). He does everything for me and so much more. I cry when I think of his humility, his simplicity and his gentleness. I love my daddy so much.

        This post can never do my dad any justice, but he is my biggest hero. I love him with all my heart. I want him to be there to walk me down the aisle when I make vows. I want him to bake my vow cake. I want him to dance with me at the after party I'm planning. I want him to be with me everywhere I go. And my deepest prayer is that he grows to be really, really, really, really old so I never have to let him go. I love you, Daddy. I can't thank you enough for everything, the sacrifices, the laughter, the love and the faith. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful Daddy. 

Poverty, Chastity, And Obedience - Take One

"Ecce Ancilla Domini, Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum.

Ecce regnum Dei intra vos est."

- Profession Cross of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth

      When I think of these words, instantly memories flood my heart and soul. Ever since I "officially" started discerning, over five years ago in my Sophomore year of high school (this was the first 'discernment' weekend), these words have been a part of me. As high school students we were sent on a scavenger hunt throughout the entire convent and the outside surroundings. A series of questions such as "What is S. Michele's license plate number?" (I can't remember!), "What is the statue of Mary missing out front?" (her thumb), "What is S. Jeanette's charge?" (keeping the candy dish filled...still have yet to find that), and "What are the words inscribed on the sisters' crosses and rings?" (see above). With energy and determination, my best friend, Brianna, and I went in search of the answers only to have the last question answered by our dear S. Terri. I remember later that night reflecting on her story (I was to soon learn that she always had a story) of her cross. I was in awe of the love of which she spoke, truly speaking about the love of her life. Her eyes were filled with sparkle and love for this Jesus who she loved so much. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Your Will. The Kingdom of God is within you," she said as she reflected on her own first profession of vows. To this day, that memory, the memory of the first time I ever heard those words, remains in my heart. 

      Now, today, I have a new memory to go along with those beautiful words. I was (and am still) so blessed to be a part of my dear friend, Sister Maria Sophia's, discernment and vocation journey. I can remember the days when I barely knew her and I find it so shocking that today, I was crying as I was hugging her, congratulating her and telling her how proud I was of her. From being that shy Geometry substitute teacher who barely spoke a word outside of the classroom, she has become one of my best friends, constantly bubbling with words of wisdom for me in my own discernment. She has come far from being the woman who calmed my tears and fears about Chemistry and has become an inspiration for me, a reason to "plow through" those tough times of discernment, and a beacon of hope for my own future. And today, I was so blessed to be present at her First Vow Profession during which she received her black veil and her profession cross, and professed the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. 

       The ceremony was absolutely beautiful. I cried multiple times, at her literal profession, at her thank you speech, at her uncle's homily during which he said, "God sends us. Let us go wherever He sends us knowing that you and I may be the perfect person for the person we are being God for," and so much more. I could not help but smile the entire time at the beauty of it all! And to have my little sister right next to me, having just as big a smile, made the day so much better! Everything from the words spoken, to the songs sung, to the family and friends, was perfect! 

       After the ceremony, the traditional lunch was served and I sat surrounded by so many of my dear Sisters and sister! It was so great to see the beautiful, happy, smiling faces of so many who have been in the same position before, and so many faces looking forward to their special day! I was surrounded by sisters I had never met (though there were few...success!) and plenty of sisters who consider me the "little sis." Even though I love all my sisters so greatly, I was so excited to see my Chicago-ites for the first time since February (I sincerely miss that place). There were plenty of hugs and kisses and words of wisdom to go around, and both my little sister and I had our share of the popularity. My little sister, obviously because she's cute and adorable and precious. And me? Well, I'm Becca....everyone knows Becca apparently! But really, seeing and celebrating with everyone truly warmed my heart. It made me anxious and excited for my day, whenever God chooses that day for me! 

        Until then, however, congrats Sister Maria Sophia on your First Vows! May God truly watch over you! I'm so proud of you, my big sister!

Life As A Sheep

"The Lord will guard us as a Shepherd guards His flock."

- Jeremiah 31

I know it's a goat...but you get the point. 

     Did you ever have a "DUH!" moment while sitting in Mass? Have you ever been sitting there, listening intently to the readings or the homily and have a mind-blowing realization? Like suddenly everything makes sense? Well, I get those moments and realizations every so often and this week was full of them. I'll start with Wednesday. 

     While I was sitting in my regular pew in Chapel, I was trying hard to stay wide awake. These nights have been late nights as I still am trying to adjust from that one hour time difference between here and Jamaica. Ok, I'm really just using that as my excuse...I'm a night owl. I'll be honest and say that I completely missed the whole first reading, and I was that awkward girl who slurred all the words of the really long response at the responsorial psalm because I couldn't remember it. As for the Gospel, don't ask me about it; that slipped my focus, too. So what was I focused on during Mass on Wednesday? The Homily. I love when priests give a short, sweet and to the point Homily but it's one that really sticks it to the man. Something with a lot of punch and gusto. The Homily was: "Two questions: Do you know you're a sheep of the shepherd? And are you willing to share that fact?" That's it, the end, no time for an answer. Right away, I started laughing. I was immediately reminded of how I taught the children in Jamaica how to "Bahhhhh" as a sheep or a goat. We spent a good half hour of our walk, "Bahhhh"-ing at every goat we saw. It was pretty precious. I couldn't help but think, I can easily impersonate a sheep and a goat, so I must be practicing in acting as a sheep. And even though all those children don't know it, they are practicing being sheep, too. Yes, I am a proud sheep for sure. And now that I've told you all about my being a sheep, I can answer Father's second question with a yes, too.

      Now for today's "duh" moment. The first reading today said: "God loves a cheerful giver." The response said, "Blessed the man who lends to those in need." And the Gospel said, "Where I am, there my servant shall also be." I suddenly realized why I have this desire to serve God and His people. I am a relatively cheerful person. Most who know me say that I am filled to the brim with positive energy and optimism. Father said in his Homily today that most cannot give financially to those in need and so what God calls us to do is give of ourselves and give our time. Josh Turner sings, "Time is Love" and he is so right. God is everywhere, truly, and so wherever God calls me to go, whether it be my hometown, New Orleans, Jamaica or anywhere else in the world, I've got to go. God gave me this "gypsy soul" and "missionary heart" for a reason: I need to give my time to those in need, be a cheerful giver and be willing to go where He is. The "duh" moment was: "No wonder I have this desire to travel and work with those in need...where God is, there I will go...and God is there." 

      Shepherds were nomadic people, and so as a sheep, a follower of the Shepherd, I must be willing to go wherever He goes and go bearing a smile for all to see. I must be willing to give my time as love. I must be willing to serve wherever God is. And so ladies and gents, or shall I say, rams and ewes, that is the life of a sheep. Bahhhhh!

P.S. Shout out to Sister Angela of Jesus the Good Shepherd on her Vow-aversary!

How To Survive Convent Life - Lesson #4

"In order to survive convent life,
one must learn to laugh at oneself for one's mistakes
and at God's humorous events.
One must find true joy in the Lord. "
- Lesson #4

      One of my all time favorite books is the classic, In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden. Within the first 100 pages of the book, the reader meets Sister Julian, a young Benedictine Sister who is "trying her vocation" in the monastery of Brede. Right away, I felt companionship and solidarity with Sister Julian because she loves to laugh. In fact one of the sisters said about her, "She did great things but I think the best of them was that she taught me to laugh." I, like Sister Julian, simply love to laugh.

     On my second day in Jamaica, my dear "companion on the journey," Sister Mary, said to me, "Becca, I've never seen someone laugh as much as you." I simply replied, "Sister, I love to laugh." In return, she said, "That, my dear, is truly a gift you have." I reflected on her words, as I always have with words about my laughter. I came to the conclusion that she was right; it is a gift I can laugh at so much. 

      On our last day, our travel home day, I got stopped at customs and had to answer a few questions. When I stuttered on one of my answers, the US customs worker questioned me further. I simply smiled, gave a little laugh, and in return, his stern face embraced a smile, too and then he waved me through. Sister, who was waiting on the other side of customs, watched the whole event take place. When I finally caught up to her, she said, "You avoided a lot of trouble for both of us this past week with that winning smile and gentle smile. You've got everyone wrapped around your finger by your joy." I simply smiled in return. Later, I said to her, "Sister, you know, when you share a smile, things change instantly." It's the truth.

      Last night, I made an impromptu visit to the convent at home. I was seriously planning on only staying for maybe a half an hour. However, I should have expected that, like any visit there, I would be there for a few hours. I was there for three and a half. As I enthralled the sisters, my sisters, with story after story after story of my journey, we laughed so hard; all of us, together. I distinctly remember one of my dearest Sisters, casually strolling into the community room, where we were are seated, and when she saw me, came over and "tackled" me in only a way a Sister could. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight telling me how glad she was that I was home. I laughed and laughed. I told all the sisters about my laughter in Jamaica and with their smiles, they agreed; I DO love to laugh. 

       Laughing with my Sisters last night and sharing all the conversations did remind me that I missed that while I was away. With my Sisters, despite the age gaps between us, I can share anything, and we did share so much. I shared about the struggles I had while in Jamaica, the personality conflicts, and yet, my understanding of why things happen the way they did. I shared about having to bite my tongue, to let things go and to not let things bother me. I shared very personal things with these women, things I could really only share with them. And during our conversation, they allowed me to reflect on so many aspects of my trip, giving me the chance to search deeper within myself and how I was affected. At the end of the night, when I was saying good-bye to the Sisters that lasted til the "end of the night," one Sister whispered in my ear, "Your understanding, insight and depth have truly proven the young woman you have become. It's beautiful." 

       As I drove home, I used the time to think about the laughter, the stories and the "growing up" I've shared with these women over the years. They have played such a great part in raising me as a young women, as much as my own family, and I feel so connected in out hearts. These women have graced me with more than they know; they are family. For with who else can one laugh, cry, share, and be so deeply, personal than family? 

       Often, I replace Sister Julian's name with my own in my favorite line from Brede: "Julian was the only one who laughed, but then, Julian obviously felt at home. Sister Julian belongs here." I feel as if I belong, simply by sharing my laughter...both in Jamaica and at home. 

Jamaican Me Crazy, Mon, At Our Lady of Hope Orphanage

"Hardships there are, but the land is green and the sun always shineth." 

     Last night, I fell asleep to the sound of my little sister, Lizzie, snoring on my bedroom floor. I was snuggled under my blanket and tried for hours to fall asleep! But, I couldn't. I was missing the sounds of crickets chirping, dogs barking, laughter from the children, and so much more. I was missing the beautiful, Jamaican breezes, the glorious moon and stars shining, and the precious faces of the children. I was so sore after becoming a human jungle gym, and yet, pain never felt so good! As I attempted time and time about to fall asleep, quiet tears fell down my cheek and hit the pillow. I miss Jamaica so much! 

     Wednesday, July 25, was an early morning. My dear Sister Mary, picked me up from the Motherhouse at 7 and we headed over to the convent for Mass with the sisters. We gathered together for breakfast (I didn't eat because I am such an anxious traveler) and conversation. Before I left, I went around to every single sister in the room and hugged them...twice. Sister Mary was cracking up at my hugginess and my love! We then drove three hours to the airport where we met the other girls coming with us. Our flight from Baltimore to Miami was about two hours and then we had an hour and a half flight to Jamaica. But, by the time we got into Jamaica, it was ten o'clock. We then had a two and a half hour drive to our orphanage. We got picked up from the Montego Bay airport in a small, white "bus" but really it was a twelve passenger van. The two back seats were filled with all the donation bags and Everton. Then, eight of us had to smush together on two rows of seats while Father and two others sat in the front. What an uncomfortable adventure, and yet...I, of course, loved every moment of it. By the time we got to the orphanage, it was almost one in the morning...but midnight in Jamaican time. Our house was three rooms: two bedrooms and a living room/kitchen. The sisters had one room and we had another...five girls and three beds. Two bathrooms, both equipped with showers...which were really pipes out of which cold water poured. Living was simply and easy; I was excited. Once we got settled, I passed out only to wake up at seven US time/six Jamaica time. Needless to say, I was anxious to start my day!

       Our days were filled with eating meals with the children, walking for hours with the children, playing for hours with the children and living twenty-four seven with the children. I loved every minute of it! To be honest, there was no hard adjustment to anything, not even not having a cell phone (that was a relief!) Being around 33 children from ages 2-18 was just like being at a full Gutherman family party with all my cousins!! Every day we would take a walk around the beautiful, mountainous, green, Jamaican land. Sister Mary and I would almost always wind up walking with each other and the little babies. I carried a little one every day whether it was a rambunctious two year old Faith or her twin sister, a sleeping Grace, or three year old Shauniel on my shoulders or his twin sister, Shanta-lee, on my back. Sometimes I had both Faith and Grace. I loved it. I looked so forward to those walks, and I think Sister Mary did, too. Since we had the little ones, we often lagged behind the others and were the last ones back but we talked a lot about so much. I really got to know her as a person and now I love her even more! We would meet so many of the local people on our walks and they were so friendly. On our last day, a young man named Chevron walked with us and talked with us the whole way. Sister Mary thinks he was "taken with me" but since it was the last day in Jamaica, I guess I'll never know for sure! His cornrows were pretty awesome though!!

       After lunch, which was the biggest meal of the day, we would separate into reading groups and I had the little ones: Faith, Grace, Shauniel, Shanta-lee and Dillon (he's four and precious!) Shocker there!! I would gather them all around me, under a palm tree by Chapel and read stories to them. If they sat still and listened carefully  to all four books, they would get a "sweetie" (candy) at the end. They were always so good for me. After reading groups, we would start a craft or activity. We did anything from painting to friendship bracelets to water balloon tosses and soccer games. After dinner we had activities, too, which were sometimes dance parties or more games. Then, when all the little ones went to bed, the older kids would stay up and play cards with us. What fun, honestly! Our meals were anything from pancakes for dinner to porridge for breakfast to a whole fish (fins and tail included) for lunch. Everything always tasted soooooo good! 

       As I write this, tears fill up in my eyes. I wish I could go back and stay for so much longer. I miss my little friends in my reading group especially. They would constantly run into me (literally) and throw their hands up in the air to be picked up. They would cover me in kisses after I taught them how to say "I love you, kisses" and blow kisses, too. They would eat their lollipops while sitting on my lap and slobber all over me and sometimes wash their hands on my legs. They were so easy to love and I did love them...I still do. When I was saying goodbye, both Faith and Grace were swooped up into my arms and immediately they said, "I love you, kisses," and plastered kisses on my cheeks. I cried. 

       The older children were great, too. While I couldn't pick them up or cuddle them, they taught me so much about their lives and culture. One of the older twins, Lamoya, taught me a traditional, Jamaican song in "patois," their language. I mastered it! Another boy, Shyan, could play a guitar and we sang together for a good hour and a half one day! That day, I decided my goal for the year is to learn guitar so I can play for the kids next Summer. Speaking of music, Sunday morning at Mass was beautiful! Ironically, I knew all of the songs and so I sang along with the beautiful Jamaican voices. I was in Heaven! 

        There are so many stories to tell and I'll be telling stories for years of this beautiful place. I wish I could go back for so long and stay among those children! I love them all so much!! And as Soniel, one of the older boys, said to me on the last day, "I wish their was a bridge connecting USA to Jamaica just so we could see each other again." I really wish I could see them all right now! My hips, back and shoulders feel empty without a little one attached to me, and my voice feels like it could really sing a Jamaican spiritual hymn. I miss playing cards with the older children and holding hands with the middle-school kids on our walks. I miss having mystery meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but what I miss the most is the laughter and simplicity. Laughter is my favorite sound and I miss it so much! I can't wait to go back! I am so blessed! 

     

My Partner in Service for the week -Sister Mary

Myself, Sonia and Faith

The Chapel

Myself and Romario

Shauniel

Casually drinking at the pizza place...not me, just Sister. 

Jessica and the bumby bananas

The view from our mountain

Foster, my right-hand man. 

Tamara and Brittany, sisters. 

And the traditional last day picture!