Due Date: December 25th

"You know what the great thing about babies is?

They are like little bundles of hope. Like the future in a basket."

- Lish McBride

Baby Ella
Born: 12/19/2013
2:03 AM 6.2lbs 19.4 inches

     In the past year I have witnessed many families welcome a new baby into the family. My next door neighbor welcomed a little cherub into the family the week of Thanksgiving. My god-daughter celebrated her first year of baby life. Many others celebrated new births in their family, including my friend, Heather. She awaited the birth of her little girl with so much energy, none like I had ever seen. Every day I could look forward to opening Facebook to see a post from a very excited Mama. I felt so blessed to watch her journey of pregnancy bloom into something so beautiful: a lovely baby girl. Ella came a day earlier than expected and I laughed knowing that she's going to go up to be just like her Mama; excited about life and anxious to do anything God asks of her.

     While I clicked through the pictures of baby Ella on facebook, I remembered back to Thanksgiving 2012. The very next day my family got a phone call. Baby Emily was born. A few days later, another phone call, this time asking me to be the godmama of the little cherub. How could I say no? I remembered the excitement surrounding the birth of this baby, number seven in a long line of brothers and sisters. I remembered back even further to when my little sister, Lizzie, was born. I was sitting in the sixth grade classroom with Mrs. Rocco when the secretary got on the loudspeaker to announce that my little sister had been born. I couldn't wait to go see her. It seems that in my life, there is a running theme. Whenever there is a new baby born, immediately the world is notified. Phone calls are made, pictures are taken, text messages are sent, facebook statuses are updated, tweets are tweeted, everyone knows. 

     The birth of Heather's little one reminded me of all the joy surrounding a baby. She was always uploading pictures of her ultrasounds, of her belly and of her favorite little girl quotes. It was easy to catch her energy surrounding her baby that even I found myself counting down the days til Ella's due date. Ella was supposed to be born on a Friday very early, but instead, on the day before her due date, I woke up to pictures of the little one. I actually cried out of excitement that the cherub had finally graced us with her presence. It made me so happy to see the pictures of the angel, mama and daddy. I was beaming with happiness when suddenly it hit me...Jesus. 

     Around this time 2000 some years ago, Mary was anxiously awaiting her little one...while riding a donkey...while traveling to Bethlehem...while not being able to find any room at the inn...while hunkering down in a cave with some farm animals... I find it that often we focus on the poverty and humility of Mary, Joseph and Jesus that we tend to miss the happiness of the birth of the baby. Jesus was born into poverty and by humble means, but not so much on her joy. Father Mooney, at the Spanish Mass on Sunday, the last Sunday of Advent, mentioned this in his homily. He spoke about the joy that surrounds the birth of a baby. 

     We remember what Mary said when the angel came to visit her: "My Soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit REJOICES in God, my Savior." SHE REJOICED! SHE WAS ECSTATIC! Then she went and visited her cousin, Elizabeth. It was then that John the Baptist, the babe within Elizabeth's womb, LEAPT FOR JOY! Like, hey girl, baby's a comin', better get excited. The joy, the happiness, the expectancy of the child of God. I often imagine what Mary was going through in those hours before the birth: pain, desire for the test to be over, and yet, JOY. Tired, exhausted, yet rejoicing at the birth of the babe. 

      While there was no phones with which to call Mary or Joseph's family with the news, no emails to be sent, no tweets tweeted, no facebook statuses updated or even pictures taken, the world still knew of Jesus' birth. The star shone bright in the sky and the shepherds came to adore Him. There was celebration; quiet, humble, beautiful celebration. Jesus was still celebrated, not in the same way as Baby Ella, but with much joy from his parents. 

     Last night, at midnight Mass, I thought once again of Heather, Ryan and Ella. I imagined the beautiful little babe sound asleep and then I looked at the manger where Jesus was laid. I felt a bit of grief for the child who came to save us. This year, His birthday seemingly hasn't been celebrated with great joy. This beautiful birth wasn't marked by selfies with the birthday boy, snap videos of singing happy birthday, shout-out tweets or statuses. The world has seemingly forgot the joy this child brought 2000 some years ago. However, I thought about how many little churches were marking the birth of the child by celebrating Mass. We were celebrating it last night, the same way Mary and Joseph did. He was brought into the world with a quiet, excited joy and that's how he was celebrated last night. 

     While the celebration was small at Midnight Mass, I couldn't help but laugh at the one single baby in the back of church who shouted and clapped his hands throughout the Mass. This kid was celebrating Jesus the same way Heather, Ryan and their families celebrated Ella: WITH GREAT JUBILATION. I smiled and felt in my heart, a kick of joy. Oh hey Jesus, there You are...I felt Jesus in my heart, crying, shouting, like a cutesy little baby. I was reminded that, while as a Parish community, we quietly commemorated the birth of Jesus in the humble style of Mary and Joseph, it was my turn to celebrate Jesus like Heather and Ryan. Perhaps, back then, when Jesus was born, there was no means to proudly celebrate the child (and in truth, they couldn't because of King Herod...). But now, there is such means and I plan on celebrating Jesus loud and proud in the style of Heather, Ryan and Ella: loud, proud and with GUSTO!

      Congrats on your new little one, Heather and Ryan. Know that baby Ella has reminded me once again how I need to celebrate Jesus, the little one. Thank you for letting me witness the beauty of your journey of giving life. Truly, that was my Christmas miracle. 

Caroling Around the Crib

"Servants of the Lord, 

Bless the Lord."

- Daniel 3:85

      It was the night before the last day of student teaching and all throughout the Rotunda could be heard the sounds of songs from The Sound of Music. I was seated next to a beautiful woman of God awaiting the arrival of my three friends and Baby Jesus. Throughout the Rotunda came more friends chattering about in the spirit of Advent and hustling and bustling about the end (of the semester) being near. Wait. What?! Of course, one would be confused if he or she wasn't standing there at that exact moment. So let me give you the background...

      A few weeks before the end of the semester, an email went out to the Senior class asking for submissions of essays of those wishing to carry Baby Jesus on Carol Night. I remembered back to my Freshmen year, while working with Sister Cathy, going into the VP's office to get the new baby Jesus. What?! My exact reaction. I looked at the dear woman and asked how there could be a new baby Jesus and she just laughed. A few minutes later we were unwrapping the box in which was the new baby Jesus statue needed for Carol Night. Having never been to a Carol Night before, I was still confused. But, later that week I found out. I remember looking at the statue of the infant and falling in love the same way a mother first falls in love with her new child. I remember only wanting to hold that little infant statue for ever and ever. A few days later, I witnessed my first Carol Night and as I saw the Seniors carry in the baby, I knew I wanted to do that one day. So, a few weeks before the end of the semester, I handed in my essay. 

       In my essay, I spoke about Mary's yes. I spoke about the symbolism of carrying Jesus during Carol Night meant for me: embodying Mary's yes. I imagined the overwhelming feeling of love in my heart. And as God would have it, I was one of the four who carried the baby in through the rotunda. The funniest part of it was that I was, by far, the shortest carrying the baby. Hey, even the small can do their part. 

       As we were kneeling there, waiting for Steph to take the Child and put Him in the manger, I thought, how perfect. God works in funny ways, you see, because I had written my essay with the intention of desiring to put Jesus in the manger. However, God knew that I needed to CARRY the baby like Mary did. Mary didn't just simply lay the babe in the manger, but rather she carried him for nine months during her pregnancy. Then, she carried him throughout his childhood. Then, she carried him during his first miracle and all his miracles. She carried him as he walked the way to the cross. And finally, when He died she carried him off the cross and to the tomb. Suddenly, all of that hit me as I was kneeling at the foot of the manger. I had Jesus on my shoulders (with the help of three of my friends) and I was carrying him, not exactly like Mary, but in the spirit of how she carried him. 

       I reflected on that through the night. As I stood there around the Christmas tree with my fellow seniors, I thought of not only the nostalgia of this being my last Carol night as an undergraduate, but also of the encapturing beauty of Christmas. I remembered what God had always asked me to be: a servant to the Lord. That night, I realized that Mary, too, had been asked to serve God as a true servant. She carried the King...I got to carry the king. I was overwhelmed with the notion, with this beauty revelation. So often I reflect on how I serve Christ by serving others, but now I was reflecting on how I got to literally serve Him. It reminded me to continue to serve Christ through others. It reminded me that I was meant to be a servant of the Lord.

      This past weekend, I was on retreat and at the end of the retreat, we were given one of the courts of the Lord. I truly believe that God's timing is so perfect as I was given "the Crib," the place where Jesus rests. This was the second part of my Advent gift from God. First it was the realization that I am called the be servant. This weekend He showed me that I am meant to also carry Jesus forever, making the heart the crib. Of course, I believe this will continue on because we know that from the wood of the crib comes the wood of the cross. There is much joy in watching a child asleep in the crib and there is much suffering in watching a man die upon the cross. If I truly accept this call to be servant of the Lord, there will be great joy, such as the joy of Jesus resting in the crib of my heart, but there will always be suffering. I am called to be a servant of the Lord, just as Mary was. I am called to carry the Lord, serve Him and let Him reside, take rest and refuge in my heart. I must prepare my heart to be a resting place for the Lord. Jesus, I say "Yes," like Mary said, "Yes." I give myself to you, sweetheart. Please, take a rest in my heart. 

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies Part Two

"Holding a baby is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

How all they do is wave their arms and reach for your 

face and watch your every move. The way their little fingers

wrap all around your single one and their tiny toes

squirm all about. And when they sleep, surely it's an angel

in your arms. It's as beautiful holding the new life as it is 

holding the hand of an elderly person.

The peace is unexplainable."

- "Becca-ism"

    I cannot help but continue to reiterate how blessed my year has been. I am continuously simply in awe of His mighty goodness. I am so grateful for all God has given me. Once before, not too long ago, I did a blog post on nuns and babies. Well, friends, here's a part two. God has been so generous to me that I simply good not pass up this chance to once again proclaim my love for nuns and babies.

    Last night, slightly spur of the moment, my Dad, little sister and I decided to visit my aunt, uncle and seven cousins. Yes, that's right, I said seven cousins. You see, in our family, having lots of kids is pretty common. My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Maryanne have taken the cake on having the most kids. Not only that, but they also have the youngest kids, the youngest of whom is my most precious God-daughter. Last week, Emily turned one. That's a big deal for a little princess, you know. So part of our reason to go over was to give her her present. When we got there, it was close to seven. When we left, it was close to nine. Those two hours went by faster than you can believe.

    I'm known to be the biggest little kid in my family. I'm always the older cousin running around with the babies. I'm usually outside playing football with the younger boys or playing teacher or dress up with the girls. I'm not the older cousin who stands around contemplating the universe over a wine cooler. Nope, I'm playing with the kids. Last night was no different. I walked into the living room and as my dad tackled his brother, I wrestled the two boys into a big hug. My cousins, Albert and Charles, were dressed in super hero pajamas and so, being the teacher that I am, I asked them all about the superheros. Then I asked if I could be one. So, guess who I got to be?! Wonderwoman. I didn't know this, but apparently she has a lasso that forces the person in the lasso to tell the truth. So, I started a little game with the boys. If I caught them in my arms, my "lasso," they had to tell me one truth. Well our truths turned into riddles which the other made up. At 8 o'clock, the clock chimed and my aunt told the boys they had to go to bed. They almost cried because they didn't want to. Heck, I even cried. So, I asked if I could take the boys up to bed. 

       Now, I forgot to mention that every time one of the boys got an answer right to the question while in the lasso, they got a turkey five. They loved this and it had them deep belly laughing. It had me hysterically laughing, too. When we got to the top of the stairs, the boys were supposed to go to the bathroom and then go brush their teeth. Well, as little boys tend to do, they did NOT want any parts of this at all. So, I told them they if they didn't do their bedtime routine, they wouldn't get a Turkey Five. Didn't that do the trick?! Of course, I think the boys' favorite part was riding me up the stairs. Long ago, I had mastered the method of being able to carry at least three kids on me at one time. With only two of them, it was easy. Albert was on my back and Charles clung to me like a baby koala bear on the front. When they finished in the bathroom, they got to ride dinosaur Becca to their bedroom. Then I stood up, rolled down the blankets, and catapulted them into their beds. Of course, I had to tickle them until they laid down and then I tucked them in. My aunt came in for a good night kiss and then I demanded one, too. Of course, my good night kiss ended in a little blessing on their foreheads. 

       While I didn't get to hold my goddaughter much last night since she herself was getting ready for bed, I did get to play with her little brothers. Children, I very firmly believe, are closer to the angels than I'll ever be during my time here on Earth. In fact, they are angels themselves. I never tire of hanging out with my little cousins and I really wish they could all stay so little forever. My cousins give me the chance to be the kid I have inside. They give me a chance to kiss and hug angels. They give me a chance to play with the divine. I went home last night and couldn't have been happier. One might think that spending all this time with kids would make me want to have kids of my own and yes, this is true. But more often then not, spending time with all these kids make me want only be a that crazy Sister aunt lady who gets to play with all the kids because she doesn't have any of her own. This is especially so when my cousins answer the riddle: What do you call a traveling nun? By saying, "You, Becca?" Ha, yes, kids, I am an eventual traveling nun.

        When talking about my adventures with the kiddos last night, I mentioned that playing with them is as close to the divine as I can get aside from holding the hands of the elderly. This morning, I was blessed enough not only to go to Mass at the SBS Motherhouse, where my good friend, Katie D, once lived, but also to visit my other good friend, Sister Ruth Catherine. I had been told that Sister's memory is going and I was nervous that she wouldn't recognize me but when I went up to her room after Mass, she was so excited to see "her Becky." She had me sit down on her bed and then we chatted. I found triumph in only having to retell one story twice; all the others we only had to do once. Today was a good day for her. Toward the end of our visit, after asking me about how much I love teaching, she asked: "You know, Becky, I know you'll make a great teacher. Have you ever thought of religious life?" Sister Ruth asks me this question during every visit, I think because she just wants the thrill of hearing me say yes. So today, I told her: "All the time, Sister. In fact, never have I felt this much peace in my life until finally admitting to myself that I know where and to whom I belong." She grasped me hand, kissed my forehead and spoke with such joy in her voice. I smiled, almost cried, and thanked God for yet another triumph. She later linked my arm as we walked out of her room and I kissed her cheek goodbye with the reminder that I am always praying for her. She's simply beautiful.

       Yes truly, a few of my favorite things are nuns and babies. This Thanksgiving break, I got both my nun fix and my baby fix. I was so happy. I am so grateful. Both of these events gave me enough joy and stamina to get through these next two weeks of school before Christmas break. There is much to look forward to in these last two weeks and I know there will be so much for which I am grateful. Thank you, God, for baby cousins and nuns! And just a shout out to my favorite missed connection nun who called me while I was in the middle of this blog post: How big WAS that Rudolph blow up in the yard? Love you, AF! 

Happy Eucharist (That's Not A Typo)

"I got life, I got love, 

I got faith and that's enough. 

We feel sorrow, we feel pain,

But there's sunshine after rain.

So I'm alright (you'll be fine, take it one day at a time)."

- "I'm Alright," Jake Miller

      While I haven't been blogging much at all (this is only the second time this month), I hope you can each take comfort in knowing that it's a direct result of my throwing myself completely and wholly into my student teaching. Yes, my students mean everything to me. I may not have been documenting my every reflection, but by far this semester has been one of the most spiritually uplifting. I have so much to reflect on and to be grateful for. And since we are in the spirit of Thanksgiving (and I have a few days off), I figured I'd share a bit with you.

      Last Sunday at my Parish, I was so blessed to lead the first of many monthly retreats. After having postponed the first one due to many reasons, we were able to finally get together and allow the Spirit to move. I can honestly say, I was so happy and thankful to God for allowing me to use my gifts to allow thirty plus people, moms, dads, grandparents, kids and teens to retreat at my home parish. Between being able to give a thirty minute keynote speech and then sing with my dearhearted friend, Sister Catherine, I was beaming with happiness from the goodness of God. The theme of the retreat? Gratitude.

     I spoke of how happiness is correlated with gratitude. The more thankful one is, the happier. I spoke of a study that proved this and then made our retreatants write down the name of the most influential person in their lives with a list of reasons why they are influential. I told them that "having gratitude but not expressing it is like wrapping a gift but not giving it," (Ward). While we didn't share these out loud, I asked, if given the chance, would they call that person on the phone and thank them, read them the list of reasons why? Many heads shook yes. I shared my own experience of doing this and wondering who I would call and thank. I listed my parents, my friends, my college math professor, my high english teacher. Then I thought alittle more out of the box and thought of calling Peru and Jamaica. Finally, I hit the nail on the head by saying I'd call God. 

     I spoke at length about what I'd say to God if I could catch a direct line to his ear. I spoke about being thankful for all the miracles in my life and especially my students (I love them all so much!). I gave various classroom examples of my students and how much they had changed my life. I spoke about how I thank God even for the hardships in my life. But I spoke about how when I wake up, the first thing I do is thank God for letting me live another day. I get dressed and ready for the day then head to Mass. Eucharist, in our church lingo, actually, literally means "Thanksgiving." Each day, I find myself thanking God for everything under the sun at Mass. It may be a tough day, but I'm still grateful. 

     I urged the retreatants to begin by expressing gratitude for every little thing that happens in their lives. I urged them to thank God for the miracles because once they begin doing that, not only will they be happier, but they will also be able to thank God for all the hardships in their life. For truly, despite hardship and pain, God is good, all the time. Expressing gratitude is not a habit, even though sometimes I thank myself for opening the door for others and for myself, but rather a way of life. One must truly express thanksgiving from the heart each and every time in order to be happy. When people ask me my secret to happiness, I can only say that it's because I am grateful. 

     On Tuesday, it was my last official day in front of the classroom. For the next week, I will resume my wall flower position in the back of the room and watch as my teacher once again regains her students. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I showed them the video I will attach at the bottom of this blog. I told them that being grateful for what they have makes them happier and then I thanked them. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't cry. On Friday, my last day, I will most likely sob hysterically when I have to leave my students. One of my favorite students hugged me on Tuesday saying it was her official hug goodbye. I hugged her in return and told her I said I still had a week. She said, "I know. But you're the best, Miss G." I smiled. I have been blessed to the nines with them, my dear cherubs, my angels. I love them and today, I am most grateful for them.

      I am so grateful for so much, for I have so much. And I know that from those to whom much is given, much is asked. Jesus, I'm ready to give you all that you ask of me. I know that perhaps my life holds much difficulty and challenge, but I know for sure that my life holds ahead much happiness. There is so much to be grateful for today and that includes the lovely family I will be spending my Thanksgiving with and my friends who will consistently snapchat me all day about their festivities. I am grateful for the heat in my house and the very fact that I will have a Thanksgiving dinner. I am grateful for my little Sisters and my big Sisters, in black, blue and white. I am thankful for all my gifts and I am thankful for the many hugs and heart to hearts I had yesterday with my IHM Sisters at school. I am grateful for the four dollars in my wallet that paid the toll home. I am thankful for the sunshine pouring in my window as I write this. But most importantly, I am grateful for my faith, for without it, I would have nothing. 

      Today, I am happy because I am grateful. I am thankful for all that God has given me and all that He will give me. I am beaming, smiling ear to ear with happiness because today is a great day. Because each day is a great day if I choose to be grateful! And today, every day, I plan to be! Happy Eucharist, everyone. And to all my Jewish friends, especially my boyfriend, Jesus, Happy Hanukkah! 

How Nice To Be Founded?!

"It was there, amid my Sisters in their blue habits, 

that I felt at home."

- Mother Theresa Maxis

     It's been almost a month since I have last blogged, but alas, that is no inclination that the Lord has not been moving in my heart and soul. Truly, these past few weeks have been some of the most blessed weeks I have ever experienced. I have been full time teaching (all five classes of Juniors and Freshmen) and it's been amazing. But at the end of the day, I am exhausted. Occasionally, I have thought about how easy it would be to blog if all I had to do was talk about my amazing days with my students. But alas, the time and the fatigue just have not allowed me to be able to blog. Trust me, it's been driving me crazy. However, today I found a free hour and so, here goes nothing:

     Today, November 10, is Founder's Day for the IHM Community. Long story short, it's a day they celebrate being founded by Father Gillet and Mother Theresa Maxis back in 1845. Of course, we cannot forget the always lovely St. Alphonsus and St. Teresa (my girl!). For me, it begins a month of celebration because soon after Founder's day, is Charter day (the day IU's Charter was passed so we could be school) and ending with Feast Day, December 8th! Founder's day is special, for without those beautiful people of God who founded the IHM's, first the Oblates of Providence, I would not be where I am today: an IHM educated young woman! 

     I spent my Founder's Day first by going to Mass at the Motherhouse, a place I can call a home away from home after spending every day this semester there. I'm the little princess of the portress and my big sisters love to tease me all day long. I take such simple joy in praying with Sisters. Their voices sound like angels and I simply cannot resist closing my eyes and letting the feeling of Heaven overcome me. Of course, those angels are the ones who hug me at the sign of peace and then congratulate me for not tripping over the kneeler again. Then I'm caught in a fit of giggles and cannot control my laughter as Sister simply puts her serious face back on. Really though? Yeah, I'm the little princess. 

     The next adventure for the day was running back to IU for our Memorial Mass so I could sing. In the fifteen minutes before Mass I went around to every single Sister I could find in Chapel so I could hug them and wish them a Happy Founder's Day. Some Sisters wondered how I knew so I simply answered, "how could I forget?" I love Sundays if only for the reason that I get to see "my girls" at Mass. I miss seeing them every morning for Mass, but I know this is a leg of the journey, I must complete. Of course, I think these Sunday reunions yield mutual feelings. 

     After Mass, I walked back over to the Motherhouse so I could join the lovely ladies of formation for a pilgrimage of sorts to the graves of all the IHM Sisters past. Of course, no pilgrimage is complete without first a stop to the good ol' Produce Junction for flowers and the ever famous WAWA for hot cocoa and/or pumpkin spice coffee. Before long we were well on our journey to St. Agnes cemetery to pray with a few Mother Generals and over 320 IHM Sisters. We visited the graves of two postulants who died before ever making vows and the very saintly Sister Candida. It was no surprise to me that in this cemetery all the Sisters are very neatly buried next to each other while the rest of cemetery seemed scattered in the style of old cemeteries. It was rather beautiful. 

     Next on the pilgrimage was the marker of the first IHM Motherhouse in West Chester. While now the grounds are used for an apartment complex (I joked about getting one there post graduation), the motherhouse was there from 1872 to 1966. It was there that I read out loud the beautiful words of Mother Theresa Maxis' homecoming. She spoke about how wonderful it was to see all the Sisters waiting for her at the door as she pulled in the drive. She reminisced about the feeling of home being with the Sisters, not in any specific place, but with her Sisters in blue. How appropriate, I thought, for IU is a home among beautiful ladies in blue for me, too. 

     Finally, we found ourselves at home at the graves of those Sisters buried in the Camilla Hall cemetery, a place I frequent often. I told the Sisters that in every cemetery of Sisters I visit, I find the Sister who died closest to the day I was born. For the IHM's it's Sister Mary Estella Rock. As we prayed for the other Mother Generals and the Sisters, I felt ultimate peace. Of course, when Sister Martina told us that there are spots in the cemetery left empty for the three living mother generals, I said, "may they remain that way for a very long time." I hadn't meant to say it outloud, but I did and the Sisters agreed with the sentiment. It was peaceful to walk where the saints sleep.

      The day was beautiful and even now as I reflect, nothing made it more perfect that being Sister Patris' partner in crime and steady arm. This dear Sister, someone I am so grateful to have in my life, stands a few inches smaller than I do and occasionally needs a steady arm. I'm kind of her fangirl so being able to be arm in arm with her all day was so perfect. For me, she's a saint. I was so blessed to hear so many of her stories while being arm in arm. Of course, snuggling together for warmth was also a plus! That woman is truly a gem, a diamond of the rarest form and I hope she knows how much I adore her.

      While the day was full of beautiful prayer and visitation, no day with my IHM Sisters could be complete without the entertainment Sister Mary Paparazzi and Sister Mary Hot Wok. I'm so blessed to share a pew with them both almost every day and being with them even on my off days are perfect. You know, I never quite laugh as hard as I do when we are all together. It's quite beautiful if I don't say so myself. There's nothing quite like spending a day with fun-loving people like those beautiful women of God. 

      Today was a day of peace and love. I have always loved walking with the saints sleep and praying with them. I love being able to touch these pieces of history and walk in the same footsteps as our sisters past. There is something eerily beautiful about knowing one is walking in the very same place as the saints in Heaven. The other day at work with Sister Cathy, I got to help change the display cases in the front foyer of Villa Maria. In those display cases are the rosaries of Father Gillet and Mother Theresa Maxis. Touching those beautifully light beads with my fingers, knowing that they, too, prayed with them, allowed me to experience an emotion like nothing before. How wonderfully strange to touch that which the saints touched. I told this story today to the sisters with whom I pilgrimaged and could feel the same powerful emotions. As we finished our journey, we could see the rays of the sun dance from the sky to which I said, "There are our IHM sisters dancing and having a party in Heaven on this great day." Yes, today was a day for the Saints. And I must agree, how nice it is to be founded at home amid my Sisters in blue habits?!

Vocations In English Class

"Miss Gutherman, 

do nuns wear pajamas?"

- five of my students in unison

     One of the first things they teach us in those "How to be a Teacher" classes is that you must never let your students know your weaknesses. Okay that might not be entirely true, but there is some truth to it. They tell us to always be a least two steps ahead of your students, to never laugh so as to encourage misbehavior, etc. Of course, showing your class your weaknesses could definitely do you in for some damage. Weaknesses such as: deviation, getting off topic, the top ten pop songs of the day, talking about family, etc. As a student myself, I know how easy it is to want to get a teacher off topic. Get the teacher off topic, waste the rest of the class period. I had always vowed to never let this happen, but it is inevitable. Especially when your students find your weakness...oh and my 8th period found mine already: Nuns.

      It all started after their vocabulary test. I was going over the assignment sheet for the next unit (the Odyssey...YESSSS!) when I decided to jump start on Monday's Poetry Appreciation Jam. We are finishing up the Poetry unit by bringing in our favorite poems or poems we have written. So, not wanting to waste those valuable ten minutes left in class, I pulled up some of my poetry on my Google Docs Drive and gave them the choice to pick one or two. They picked: "Menacing Fall", a poem I had written not too long ago about the perils of walking to work. Of course, even though they didn't even have to work, the just had to listen to me recite poetry, they wanted to get off topic. That's when the questions began: "Miss Gutherman, where do you work? You work with nuns? Is it fun? Do you know all the nuns? Are they nice?" and then all of a sudden, in unison, five of my students ask: "Do nuns wear pajamas?"

     In all the vocation talks or conversations I have given or had with all types of people, without a doubt, that question has come up. Do nuns wear pajamas? Well, yes, in fact, they do. I always laugh when I hear that question and Friday was no exception. When all of my students said that in unison, I legitimately lost all composure. I was fine answering questions until then. I just burst into hysterical laughter and I knew the class was over. I had completely lost them. Or so I thought.

     The truth is, I would do anything to talk about theology, religious life and nuns for an entire class period, but the English curriculum doesn't really lend itself to that. Bummer, right? However, I am always one for embracing the Spirit when it comes. So when the questions came on Friday, I couldn't help but answer them. I wanted them to know all about the Sisters, to know that they are real people, that they are normal. The truth is, I deviated from the lesson plan because it was my Freshmen year that I re-discovered my own vocation. I deviated because I think it's so important that students, especially those who are surrounded by the sisters, know what the life is all about. I deviated because one day, I hope to be that awesome and cool Sister who nerds out over books and poetry and literature and research writing and my students were giving me that hope. 

     When my students decided to deviate from the lesson plan on purpose, little did they know how much of a confirmation they were for me. When people ask me how my student teaching is going, I simply say: "It's so great! I absolutely love it!" There is such truth in that. I love teaching so much. I have always wanted to be a teacher, ever since before I can remember, and I absolutely love it now. I cannot wait to have my own classroom and teach my own lessons and have my own students. I cannot wait to decorate the room, dance around the room teaching and inspire. But even more so, I cannot wait to do all of this and more as a Sister. Just as young girls dream of their ideal wedding, I dream of my ideal classroom where my Husband comes to work with me everyday. 

      I didn't tell my students that I am discerning this vocation and that sooner or later I will most definitely be entering the religious life. I didn't tell my students anymore than that I simply work at the convent. However, I have a feeling that somehow, it will casually slip out. It might come during another Friday afternoon deviation from the lesson, it might come during a lesson, it might come during a conversation with my students after school or before school or at lunch. Or maybe they will just ask because I wear my heart on my sleeve and somehow they will just know. I have a feeling some of them are already catching on.

       The truth is, they didn't ask me, but after school on Friday, when I stopped in to see Sister Margaret Peter to wish her a happy weekend, she did. We are neighbors in the hallway and often we stop for a few minutes just to chat. A few days ago she was subbing for my co-op teacher and we were able to have a longer talk than usual. We briefly talked about life, her vocation story and other things.  I mentioned having my own Christian Prayer Book (the Divine Office book with which the Sisters pray daily) and going to daily Mass. I didn't think anything of it. When I stopped in, my first sentence was: Hey Sister...want to hear a funny story? My students want to know if you wear pajamas. We laughed and suddenly she asked if I was serious about religious life. Confident, I said, "Yes. Have been for quite a few years now. Someday." She smiled as if to say, I knew it. 

        I never expected my students to suddenly bring up the nuns just as I never expect anyone to call me out on my vocation. People look at me and tell me they just know. Maybe with my students, they know but they can't put it into words. However, they did ask me if I had a boyfriend. And I said no. If they ask me, I will be honest, and perhaps it will open their hearts to this life. The truth is, there was no way I could follow all those highly suggested DO NOT DEVIATE lessons I had learned in my "How to be a Teacher" classes because in all honesty, God put it on their hearts somehow and I was there with the answers. Who knows, maybe somehow, they will be inspired and answer the call in their own hearts. They may have found out my weakness, but it is actually a strength. Hey, I love talking about the nuns, but I also love leading little hearts to Jesus. Whoever thought vocations could come up in my English classroom?

And just for kicks...here's the poem that started it all:

Menacing Fall

I put my life on the line every day.

Do they know how dangerous it is to walk to work?

Squirrels and tree limbs

chuck acorns at my head.

and yet,

leaves playfully dance around me,

begging my feet to join the waltz.

the trees,

they laugh at me

hugging my sweater close against the wind.

and in response,

I return the favor,

laughing at the silliness of the leaves,

unsure of what colors they should wear today.

some choose scarlet,

others crimson,

others still fluorescent  oranges and yellows.

and then, the traditionalists refuse to change from Summer Green.

this indecisiveness yields arguments among the masses

ending in few being through from the limbs.

but on the ground, they dance and laugh with me,

mocking the unconventional beauty of a mismatched dress.

I spread my wings, finally letting the wind lead me in the dance; he is quite the gentleman.

and just as I begin to float, a squirrel chucks another acorn at my head.

I put my life on the line every day.

Do they know how dangerous it is to walk to work?

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies

"You know what this [the habit] does for me?

It allows me to hold babies, hold hands, and hold hearts.

I can listen to a person's story and simply say, 'I can't do much, 

but I can pray for you.' That's what I love."

- Sister Miriam George

     People are constantly telling me that I would be a good mother. I love that. Some people might think that it makes things awkward, but in reality, it doesn't. It confirms my whole life. Yes, I've had moments in my life where I dreamed of having six or seven babies of my own. But one time, my favorite English teacher in high school told me, "People may say you'd make a good mother, Bec, and they're right. But the truth is, to make a GREAT nun, you need to first make a good mother." What he meant was, a great Sister is maternal; she should make a good mother. If she wouldn't make a good mother, well than how else would she be able to love all those with whom she comes in contact? So, when people tell me I would make a good mother, I always say, "Well, I do love babies...everyone else's babies." It's true. If there was every a group of people I could possibly love more than the Sisters, it would be babies. 

     Last night at school, we had yet another "Tuesday with Dorothy." It was part two of a three part lecture series on Dorothy Day, civil rights activist, journalist AND most awesome woman of her time. Giving this talk was Brother Mickey, an oblate, an artist and a Camden resident. I have met Brother Mickey on many occasions and I was super excited to hear him talk about our girl, Dorothy. I was so excited with Sister Mary told about this talk, but my heart dropped when I found out it would take place during my class. Hoping that I could spread the love, I emailed my professor and asked if we could take a field trip. He denied the request, however, he gave me personal permission to go to the talk for a half hour if I reported back to the class some fun information. So, I did just that.

     Upon walking into the lecture hall, I saw many of my dear Sisters. I wasn't surprised actually, but it was a joyous shock to see so many of my dearhearts. As I was searching for a seat with easy exit access (so I wouldn't make a scene leaving halfway through), Sister Miriam George caught my attention. Now, there are multiple reasons why I love this woman, but one of the main reasons is because we share the same height. Yes, she is a fellow little person like me. Of course, I also love her for her prayerfulness, her undying love, her having adopted me her little sister (literally...that happened once), her literal jumping for joy when I share good news and her pure joy of life. I smiled as she waved me over to her seat, and I sat down next to her. Somehow, we started talking about habits.

      I'm not quite sure how the subject came up, but it was a good conversation. I told her how that idea had come up during lunch among the faculty members the other day and so we began sharing views. Here I was, talking to a woman in a full IHM habit, talking about what she was wearing. Thank goodness she didn't comment on my workout clothes, haha! I shared how I could easily see both views: wearing a habit and not wearing a habit. This simply came from my experiences with all types of communities; some who wear full habits and some who wear lay clothes. I can easily understand why a community of sisters wouldn't wear a habit (e.g. safety, to fit in more with the people, to not take away from ministry, etc.) and why a community would choose to wear a habit (e.g. symbolism, simplicity, vow of poverty, togetherness, etc.). Of course, as I was saying this, I made sure not to let my personal bias slip out (I am an English major after all...). So, when she asked my opinion, I was happy to give it. I told her the beauty I saw in a habit. I love the symbolism of it and the simplicity. I also mentioned how much I miss wearing my Naz Acad potato sack uniform. After I said that, she said the above quotation. I fell in love even more, especially when she said the part about the babies. 

      She told me this as she gently held my hand, telling me she was always praying for me, too. This I knew, of course, but she never fails to remind me that she is always, always, always praying for me. Wouldn't you know it, that as soon as we were finishing up our conversation, a woman with a baby walks into the room and sits down in front of us. First thing that happened after this? Sister George asks if she can see the baby. So open, so honest, so true. The young mom lifted the beautiful baby from her lap to show him off and not just Sister George was all googly eyes over the baby, but rather the entire room of Sisters suddenly turned their attention to the baby. Literally, all side conversations had stopped and every single Sister in the room turned to coo over the baby. I was in love. Not only was there a precious little 7 week old baby named Wesley in front of me, but all the Sisters around me were instantly ahhing over him. It was the cutest thing since I don't know when. 

      After a few minutes, Wesley went back to his mother's lap to rest. Sister George leaned over and said, "See?" and smiled. I couldn't help but laugh from pure joy. Soon enough, the presentation began and I didn't really get a chance to reflect on the NUNS AND BABIES event that had just happened, but I felt a peace in my heart as I listened to all the stories of women with young babies who were helped by Dorothy Day. It was beautiful. 

      Today, as I was driving back to school from home, I found myself stuck in standstill traffic. Yes, my friends, standstill traffic. I won't complain, but I will tell you that I literally sat in my car for an hour on the turnpike without moving an inch. After ten minutes, I turned my car off and turned the music on my phone on. But then after twenty minutes, my cell phone died. How was I to occupy myself? I couldn't talk to my neighbors because their windows were down and I really shouldn't be reading because traffic could move at any moment. So, I pulled out my rosary and began to pray. As I was praying, I reflected on last night's events of NUNS AND BABIES. I smiled, remembering my dreams and hopes for the future. 

      I always tell my friends and family that they all need to have multiple babies so I can play with them all at family parties. I have always had this dream of being that crazy Sister aunt who plays with the kids, sits at the kids table, and spoils them with hugs and kisses and lots of love. I have a goal of being the favorite aunt (as if it was obvious...as if that's even a questionable idea). I have often had the conversation with my cousin about being the babysitter for her children and the god-mother. Whenever there is a baby around, I will be holding him or her. My cousin assured me that there will be plenty pictures of Sister Becca holding babies. I always laugh when she says that. 

       As I prayed, I also reflected on Sister George's words. So many believe that being a Sister is a lonely life, that we can't really do much. But in truth, we can do so much more. Sisters can devote themselves to the poor, to the ones who need love. Sisters can stop at any moment to pray with a person, to hold their baby, to hold their hands, to hold their hearts. Sisters can love unconditionally. I thought of all the times I had tried to love unconditionally, how I have always looked on with a maternal love. And of course, I remembered all the Sisters who had looked upon me with those same maternal eyes filled with love and compassion. I prayed for all those who need love, who I have loved and who have loved me. Of course, I also prayed for my favorite English teacher in high school, who helped me discover that making a good mother is a beautiful thing, especially when it will help me be a great Sister. 

My "Daughter" is every person whom God is calling me on to love.

A Homecoming of a Different Kind

"Home, let me come home.

Home is wherever I am with you.

Mama, I'm coming home."

- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

     There were more Sisters than usual at daily Mass on Saturday and the Motherhouse was covered in Sunflowers. I could hear the beautiful voices of my Sisters as I sat in the back part of Chapel among them. Right before Mass started, I got a huge hug from behind. Who was the culprit? None other than my newest best friend, Sister Margaret Peter. I held onto her tight, kissed her cheek and smiled. What a dearheart, I thought. Students always hate seeing their professors outside of school, but I love seeing my co-workers, my fellow teachers outside of the classroom, especially when it's a Sister. As angelic voices floated throughout the Chapel, I felt my heart beat uncontrollably in my chest. There was a peace, a continued peace of the past few weeks spent at the Motherhouse and on Campus with the Sisters, and I couldn't have been anymore grateful. 

     After Mass, after hugging all the Sisters who were there early to set up or help with food, I took a seat in the Portress office with my good friend, Erin. There we chatted about life, and watched as the Sisters continued to run into each other and spread love. I couldn't help but laugh every time a Sister ran down the hallway at one of her good Sister friends just for a hug. There was so much jubilation and hugs and nicknames; I wanted so badly to be a part of it. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I said something like that, a Sister ran down the hallway...at me. You should have seen my smile. I was so happy to see her, I just kept hugging her. Of course, after she, at least five more of my dear Sisters from all over came through the Portress office and there were just hugs galore. 

     I was smiling ear to ear as some of my dear Sisters, after having seen me in the distance, walked (or ran) toward me with hands in the air so happy to see me. How humorous it is to see Sisters running toward you when usually you are the one running toward them. I received more hugs than I thought humanly possible in less than an hour. I saw some of my dearhearts from home, some from around town and of course, from the Motherhouse. I was in such a happy, go-lucky mood and honestly, nothing could change that for me. 

     When the Mother General walked into the Portress office, I was just explaining to Sister Rose how much I was loving the sunflowers in the Motherhouse. I looked at her and just exclaimed: "There are so many sunflowers everywhere! TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS!" She laughed at me and just shook her head. Often, I am regarded as an entertaining little sister. This was one of those many times. Sister Rose was also laughing at me, but typically that's the majority of our conversation: laughing at and with one another. More and more Sisters began coming through and eventually, I told Erin that I had to leave so I could get some homework done today. As I was leaving the building, plenty Sisters who were driving in stopped the car to roll down their windows and say hello. Some even gave out hugs and kisses. The last person I saw before leaving was my favorite curly hair comrade, Sister Regina. When I get wiser like her, I want beautiful white hair like she has. 

     Part of me wanted to hop, skip and jump home to the dome, but crossing King Road is already dangerous enough. Seeing all those Sisters and those who once were Sisters, sincerely made my heart so happy. The family presented before me was HUGE and so loving. Yes, there are days and times and places, when just like in my own family, Sisters just don't get along. But yet, just as I do with my blood sisters, they love each other through thick and thin. It was a homecoming for those present and past IHMs. Being there to see such beautiful jubilation, if only for a few moments, was a pretty cool thing. It was such an wonderful witness. There wasn't a football game, there were no cheerleaders, just a lot (A LOT) of IHMs. 

     Of course, I think my favorite part of the day was when I kept getting asked if I was staying. I had to laugh; of course I wasn't staying. I was neither part of the past or the present. But the idea of future was mentioned. I smiled. Once again, I felt like family; a little sister. I felt in my heart that no matter where I end up, no matter what community I join, I will always somehow be welcomed home to this place of worship and family gathering. There's always going to be a spirit of homecoming for me, I guess. A homecoming of a different kind. 

You Know What I Love? Nuns.

"My Sisters remind me, by their very steadfastness, 

that truth, beauty, and goodness exist in the world, 

and that, no matter what, there are and always will be

people loving people through thick and thin."

- Kim Kardashian 

    I was in rare form tonight at Mass. Okay who am I kidding? I am never in rare form; it's a commonality to hear me laughing the moments before Mass starts because it is the realization of so much joy in my heart. However, there was a bit more spunk in my step (maybe it was my new shoes...) tonight and so after Mass, I hopped, skipped and jumped into the sacristy to see if Sister needed any help. Before I knew it, I was subtly being trained on sacristan duties and being shown where things belonged. Of course, Sister doesn't know this, but she gave me the little sister job in my house (long story short: the littlest sister doing the dishes always dries and puts away): drying! I instantly felt like a little sister. That moment of feeling like a loved little sister came just as I was being handed a towel and another Sister was telling me how much she misses me during morning Mass. Of course, this hasn't been the first time I've felt like a little sister recently. 

    In the past three weeks, I have gotten up before the sun to get ready for my day at school long before school starts. Yes, indeed 5am comes so early, but if you were my dad, you'd say : "About time you start working a real job." Except, sorry dad, it's just student teaching. However, I don't have to be in school until 7:30. So, what am I doing up at 5? Well, you see, I've been getting ready to join my motherhouse Sisters for Mass at 6:30 every morning. Okay, the disclaimer is this: I don't actually get out of bed until 5:30. My poor roommate has to hear me hit snooze three times. It's okay, she likes me enough. Anyway,so at 6:15, I begin the trek over to Mass with the Sisters who have literally taken me under wing. 

    Last weekend was a big weekend for me and many of the on campus Sisters were excited to see me achieve so greatly. Of course, after their messages of congratulations, there was a question of : "Where have you been at Mass? We miss you." I simply smiled and told them that the Motherhouse Sisters were taking care of me. I realized though that a lot of the Sisters didn't realize I was probably out student teaching (of course, I thought they all knew my entire life so....). So, I wrote them all a note, easing their broken hearts and told them to look forward to October 14th, Columbus Day, my only day off from school! My Sisters were missing me and I was feeling the love. For three years they have taken me under wing and suddenly, I have jumped nest. They perhaps are feeling the empty nesting syndrome. Haha, if only!

    In these past few weeks of feeling missed by my campus Sisters and feeling incredibly loved by the Motherhouse Sisters, I have only been able to count my blessings. Over and over I have heard the Sisters say how much they love having me over for Mass, that I should just get a room there (uhmm...let's work on this kay? I would never have to see 5am again...), or that they are proud. I have shared many successes, many trials and many pains with all these Sisters in recent weeks and I have experienced nothing but a continuously listening heart. I have been given more hugs than the average person needs a day (eight..for the record; the average person needs eight hugs a day.) but I guess I'm not an average person. I have been spiritually nourished and simply loved so much.

    But the love is mutual. Every day I thank God for the beautiful witness these lovely ladies show me. I am moved to tears each time I see one Sister look out in someway for another. Whether it's consoling one Sister who lost her best friend, giving one Sister an arm to lean on as she walks, Sisters hugging Sister friends, bands of Sisters laughing, rejoicing over the life of another, Sisters smiling at Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, Sisters being Sisters and loving every moment of it. These Sisters have shown me what it means to truly live for another, especially those closest to them. 

    This morning at Mass, a band* of Sisters got together to celebrate Mass in memory of a member of their band who passed away five years ago. There were three pews filled with Sisters of that band and suddenly, I felt this overwhelming peace. Despite the Sisters not having any descendents, children or grandchildren, seeing all those Sisters there, showed me that the Sisters become family to each other and each others' families adopt the others'. And suddenly, I realized how true this is in my own life. These Sisters have become my family and my family has become their's. I have become a little Sister in a family of Big Sisters. 

     Every day I am in wonder and awe of these beautiful women of God and I don't honestly know if it's possible to love them more. I am so grateful for them in my life. I feel so at peace in this very moment of my life, despite the craziness of student teaching, despite the chaotic class schedules, despite the HUGE amount of homework, and the lack of sleep, I feel so much peace. I know God is with me all throughout my day and I cannot thank Him enough. I surely am so beautifully blessed. 

* band - the group of women with whom a Sister enters the convent at the same time; other names include: group and party. 

Princess for A Weekend

"Every girl pretends she is a princess at one point, 

no matter how little her life is like that."

- Alex Finn

 

      Ever since I was little, I loved to sing and dance and perform. I belonged on a stage. When I started school, right away people were putting me on a stage to sing and dance and entertain. I loved being in the spotlight because it was the only place I wasn't shy. In school, I was a shy child. I barely spoke, especially not during classes or in line when we were supposed to be quiet. I was shy, always hiding behind my Daddy when meeting new people. I was nice, but I was so shy. On the stage, I had no fear. I was able to take over a different persona and simply be free. I could do things on stage like belt out Ave Maria or dance or act that I could never do off the stage. And the best part? I never once experienced stage fright.

      Flash forward to college. I came out of my shell in high school and had created myself as a unique young woman. I knew what I wanted from life and I knew how to get it. I wasn't shy anymore. That was until it came time for the Fall play auditions. Me? Sing on stage? Are you nuts? Who did I suddenly turn into? I loved to sing, but something about the stage at IU scared me. Maybe it was because I wasn't a music major and felt I wouldn't fit in...or maybe I just was afraid. So, I skipped it. I got into singing for church, but it seemed that the stage fright I never experienced as a child was hitting me like a ton of bricks. I guess it had just laid dormant for so long. 

      I remember Family Weekend as a Freshman at IU. The first part of the weekend involved the annual Miss Immaculata Pageant. I watched in awe as young women spoke about how they never thought they'd get up there to do something so amazing. I thought to myself how cool it would be to do something like that. Then I reminded myself of my dormant stage fright. Four years later, I found myself pacing back stage as I got ready to perform my Miss Immaculata talent as part of the pageant my Senior year. I did what I thought I would never do. I still experienced my stage fright, but I did it. 

      If I was going to the pageant, I wanted to do something that wowed the crowds. I was already known as a singer and an actor (thank God I got back into that...) and a photographer and a dancer and a writer and the list goes on and on and on. So, I decided to do something I had never done before: Perform a dramatic monologue. I wrote the monologue one night while working at the Motherhouse, where I gain a lot of my inspiration these days and was so happy with it. It encompassed my life as a writer, a performer, a traveler, a service worker and a teacher; all the things I hold dear. The more I thought about it, the more I was confident in my decision to do Miss IU. But then reality hit me...

     The reality of the fact that I would have to actually perform my monologue in front of people on the stage. AHHHHHH! So, I did the sensible and practiced in front of people. I practiced in front of every single class of mine at the school at which I'm student teaching and when I told the Sisters at the Motherhouse I was doing this, they asked for a private showing. Well, I know that when Sister asks, you do. So, the night before Miss IU, the Sisters crowded into the Fortress Portress office and I performed for them for the first time in front of a live audience. When I finished, a few Sisters were asking for tissues. I thought they were just being dramatic but actually, I had touched a nerve in them. I had spoke about something that they could connect with. The next day, when I performed for my students, even some of them cried. I was amazed. 

     The time for the show came and we were all more excited than nervous. As I walked out on that stage in my bare feet, suddenly all the confidence of younger me filled my heart and I performed that monologue better than I had in the past two days. I couldn't help but be proud of both myself and of my peers who had all performed so well. Of course, the performance part wasn't the only thing we were being judged on but also formal wear (and our escorts) and some fishbowl questions. So, like a little princess, I was escorted by my Daddy, the only time he may ever walk me down an aisle. I listened intently as my new sisters answered our fishbowl questions proudly and could not help but smile. I was so happy to look and feel like a princess among nine other princesses. Suddenly, I was being called forth as one of the three ladies moving on to the next level. Wow. I was in shock. After a few more intense moments, my "baby bear" was named Miss Congeniality, I was named Miss Runner-Up and Jade was crowned princess of IU. I believe my face said it all, when I realized she was the winner. I was more excited than she was. 

     The next morning, my Sisters at the Motherhouse didn't cease to remind me that no matter what I was a princess. The truth is, that's exactly what I preached at the pageant. When asked what legacy I was love to leave at IU, I answered: perpetual sunshine. Of course, that being said, the sun is one star in the sky, and each and every member of IU is a shining star in my eyes. Everyone is royalty. In recent weeks, even before Miss IU, the Sisters have adapted to calling me the princess of the fortress portress. I love that. I am reminded every day at the motherhouse that I am a princess and I especially felt so that Saturday after feeling like a princess all night at Miss IU.

     The feeling of being princess didn't cease on Sunday. Perhaps this was the climax of my weekend. The closing ceremony of Family Weekend is the Fall Honors Convocation. This is the chance students get to be recognized for all their achievements. We don our Harry Potter robes which as the years progress gain more and more decoration. I was proudly carrying four cords and a bunch of pins, a true sign of three years hard work. I smiled on as each of my peers were recognized for their beautiful and wonderful achievements. Finally, I was asked to stand and be recognized from the stage. I was being awarded the St. Catherine of Alexandria Medal, the highest award given to an IU student for academic achievement and service. I was so humbled. I found out I was to be awarded this medal during my month in Peru, which is only appropro. I felt so blessed and so humbled to have so many of my supporters in attendance. Honestly, there's nothing like feeling loved.

      All past weekend I felt like such a princess. But the truth is, when I open my eyes in the morning and see the life ahead of me, I feel like a princess. The truth is, I know I am a princess for my Father is the King of Kings. I am a princess, and you are a princess or a prince. It shouldn't take winning a pageant or an award to feel like a prince or princess; you should wake up everyday feeling so blessed to be royalty. You are royalty. Of course, I am so grateful for the weekend that was spent making me feel so special. I am blessed because so many beautiful people came to support me. I am blessed to have been able to feel like such a princess. God is so good and whenever I look back to these memories, I will smile and laugh. I don't need a crown to be a princess, I was blessed with a heart of gold.