This Ain't Prom; It's Home

"Home is where someone notices when you are not there."

- The Lazarus Project, Aleksandar Hemon

     "I think I'll visit the Mount, tomorrow," I said to Sister David. "Oh wonderful, they miss you there, you know." Woah...where did that just come from? I thought seconds later. I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever (ever....) visited the Mount without first announcing my coming to at least one person in the house and there I was, saying I was just going to "pop over" for a visit. Little did I know, it was going to be the best thing I have done in a long time. But let's back the story up a bit....let's go to why I was visiting Sister David.

       Sister David, I think I have mentioned numerous times, is the sister. She was not only the first Sister I ever had in the classroom, but she was the first sister I had ever told I was thinking about discerning. Imagine me, a terrified (literally shaking in my school boots) 15 year old girl. I had thought the stigmatism of maybe wanting to be a sister was going to be so negative. I thought I was going to be mocked and made fun of. It was a secret I needed to spill, but was afraid to because "no one becomes a nun anymore." So, I wrote her a letter, and she responded by telling me I should stay after school the next day. OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS APPLESAUCE...was I in trouble? She was the disciplinarian at the time, you know. But no, I wasn't. The next day we had the best chat in the world. It was out of the box...I slowly became that girl who wanted to be a nun. And yet, NO ONE EVER MENTIONED A WORD ABOUT IT. My friends, my teachers, my family, my parish...they just started asking me about it. And because of Sister David, I could confidently say yes. And get this: I was NEVER met with a negative response. 

       And so, Sister David has literally stood by my side through every single up and down. She has been there for all my "big events," she has prayed me through so much, but most importantly she has been my confidante and mentor through and through. Which is why, every time I am home, I try to make a visit but most times we just can't do it. Yesterday was different. I sent her an email that morning (somewhere around 1 or 2 am) and asked her for her free periods. Of course, when I got a response, it was almost 6th period, her last free period of the day. So, I quick got in the car and drove to see her. We had a beautiful 45 minute chat about life, we caught up, she once again spread her wisdom and she reminded me that even though I have been graduated for three years now, I am remembered every single day at Nazareth. I didn't believe her at first so she told me to look in the prayer intentions book before I left. So after I helped her fix some margins for her test (good luck, girls), I went to the office to check it out. Lo and behold, there was my name scribbled on a line in the center of the page every single day. Tears filled my eyes. When I told Mrs. C, the secretary I had long ago befriended, what I was doing, she simply nodded and said, "Every day, Bec, because you're special and you make each one of us feel special. Every day I hear your name, I smile because you make me feel special." Wow. Just wow. This was still home even many years after. Of course, Sister Mary Joan, our principal, simply reiterated that before I left with a hug, a kiss, an I love you and a "you got it, mama." This was home, this is home and this always will be home.

      Later that afternoon, I was racing against time to meet the "Sister Who Shall Not Be Named" (according to her most simple request...we can't ruin her reputation). Once again, I was back at the Naz Acad ready for the second part of my day. Little did I know that her promise of flying a helicopter was a true promise and so, she hopped in the front seat of the always stylish mom van and we headed to the windy park. I remember spending afternoon after afternoon at that park in High School simply just walking around and loving every moment of it. As we both stood there, somewhat captivated by the simple beauty of it all, we agreed that we couldn't remember the last time we had been there. As we made the landing pad right near the baseball diamond, I couldn't help but remember the numerous amounts of pick-up softball games we played with the nuns there after school on Fridays. SWSNBN (Sister Who Shall Not Be Named) joined us a few times and I couldn't help but smile as she playfully called me a girl because I couldn't fly the helicopter. Of course, I won't neglect to mention that she was the one who ever so casually crashed it in the marshy baseball diamond. Before we knew it, we were both sinking in the sandy, rocky mud. Whatever. We decided to call it quits after someone's head ran into the helicopter and attempted to wash our shoes. Her inner very nunny self came out as she struggled to get every last particle of sand off her shoes. Finally, I just shouted, "Sister, it ain't prom! No one's going to be looking at your shoes." After laughing hysterically, we hopped in the car once more and headed to her favorite Chinese food restaurant. 

       The best conversations always start with a disagreement with her and of course, I started one. I said the table cloths and napkins were pink. She said they were mauve. We went back and forth, until finally, I let her win. "Mauve is a shade of purple," she said, "Not. Pink." Conversation continued and actually it was super sweet to finally catch up with her. To be quite honest, I felt so extremely blessed to have been able to spend such great time with an "acquaintance," but really someone who from the bottom of my heart, I love dearly. I mean, I am almost obligated to love her not only because she is my sister, but because she put up with me forcing SUNSHINE in her face every morning in High School. Poor girl often didn't even have her coffee yet before I was yelling down the hallway "GOOD MORNING SISTER!!!" I most likely drove her nuts but it was only because I was trying my hardest to make her smile. It's a wonder, after all these years and me still shouting "I LOVE YOU" after her, that she still keeps in contact with me. I honestly feel so blessed. After I dropped her off at home, I found myself thanking God all the way home. I felt so blessed to be able to laugh as freely and be as silly as I truly usually am with her. And that she felt she could do the same with me. From the bottom of my heart, I hope she knows as she's reading this, that I do love her as my sister!

       The blessings didn't end there, however. Remember how I said I promised to visit the Mount? Well, I found myself waking up this morning, pep-talking myself into going to Mass there. Like I said, I had never really down something so out of the blue there and even though I am seen as a risk-taker, I often have given myself a HUGE pep-talk before any risk can be taken. So after dropping my little Lizzie off at school, I headed down Holme Avenue and parked behind the Mount, a half an hour early for Mass. As I put my finger on the doorbell, I felt a sudden sense of peace as if I was truly meant to be there. There was an excitement that overtook me and I couldn't help but smile as Sister Evangeline opened the door. Before I could say anything, however, she exclaimed, "I can't believe my eyes! Welcome home, my Sister." God is so good! 

       I found an open seat in Chapel and within seconds I had gotten three hugs from various sisters. How beautiful it was to be welcomed home in such a simple and quiet way. I found myself thanking God once more as I heard the sisters begin prayers and I could so easily join them! And then to celebrate Mass with my sisters. One must understand that a good amount of the Sisters at the Mount have lived a long, beautiful a exciting life. Some sisters are simply retired and others are still on active ministry. It is a place where the sisters go when they are sick and getting ready for the last leg of life and yet these sisters have so much joy, more joy than I could ever imagine. A joy that, at the end of my  life, I wish to be blessed with. These sisters have given me such a reason to rejoice and I absolutely love visiting them. Most often there isn't any special reason, I just go. That's what I thought was happening today. But I found out I was wrong, after Mass.

       For every birthday in the house, all the sisters gather at the sister's bedroom and sing in both English and in Polish (it's tradition...)! Today, it was Sister Romuald's 98th birthday. And so, I boarded the elevator with the Sisters and we headed upstairs to her room. So many of us, all dressed in black and white and gray (even myself, ironically), stood by her bedside as we sang. At first, she was singing right along. I smiled, held back tears of joy, and looked back at the song sheet. Suddenly, I felt Sister Margaret Mary tap my arm. "Look," she whispered, "Look into her eyes." Then, my dear-hearted Sister Antonia Marie said something, "Look how she's looking at you, Bec." Before I knew it, not only were Sister Romuald's eyes on me, but so were the eyes of every sister in the room. They were watching the silent conversation take place between me and her. As I looked into her beautiful green-blue eyes, I felt such peace but I also felt the innocent love of God shoot me straight through my chest to my heart. It was as if she knew so much more about me and my future than I could ever know in my lifetime. I'm sure what she was thinking, but when Sister Nahida gently pushed me toward Sister Rom's beside, I knew she saw something in me. She saw the depths of my soul and I am so sure of it. I went to her side, patted her hand, wished her a happy birthday and thanked her for all her prayers for me. Every eye in that room was on the two of us, and yet, the conversation I shouted to her was meant for only us. We all experienced something so very beautiful this morning and even still, I can't really fathom what really did happen. All I know is that I looked into the eyes of an angel. 

        After the birthday celebration was over, a few of my dear sisters stood (or sat or leaned or rolled) into a circle around me. Each sister had questions or stories to tell me. I felt like a book on whose pages they were each writing. Sister Antonia Marie questioned my "skipping school," Sister Salvatore was wishing me good luck, Sister Nahida was suckering me into coming back on Saturday but most especially, Sister Stephanie, my high school Biology teacher, was telling me how she still has the box of sand I sent her from Cape May so many years ago next to her bedside. Eventually the sisters all went along on their way until it was just Sister Steph and myself. Our conversation continued and continued, until time meant nothing but being with her. There was no counting of minutes, there was no rushing from one place to the next, there was simply the two of us being together and enjoying each others' presence. I didn't realize how much I missed her until this morning, and once again, I felt so blessed. Eventually, I left her with an "I love you, always!" and then headed on my way out the door. When I got in the car, I realized I had spent two hours with my sisters including prayers and Mass. 

      God does that to me every so often. In this day and age when everyone is so time paranoid (myself included at times), He places me in a situation that I cannot be timed. He sends me home to a place where apparently my presence is missed so greatly, that I wind up spending inexhaustible amounts of time with my sisters. In every single moment in these past two days I have been reminded that not only am I loved by those around me but that I am remembered every day in pray, by my sisters, by my HS teachers, by my alma mater community. I am literally carried in so much prayer every day by so many people! This must be how life is so good for me all the time. In my absence at home, I am remembered and when I show up at the door, it's like the Father greeting the Prodigal Son. I am so blessed and I honestly cannot thank God enough for these beautiful people he has put into my life. Thank you, God. I am humbled by Your goodness in my life. 

In The Arms of Angels - Camden, Alternate Spring Break 2013

"Let us open wide our hearts. It is joy which invites us.

Press forward and fear nothing."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     "What are you doing for Spring Break?" It was the question on everyone's lips. Some were traveling to NOLA, my favorite city in the world. Others were traveling to Chicago, my home away from home. Still others were headed home to their respective cities and towns. Me? Well, I was more than excited to be headed to Camden, New Jersey for the weekend. 

     Imagine my parents' reactions when I neglected to tell them exactly where I was going on Alternate Spring Break until I was already settled in with my six other lovely lady peers, Father Chris and Sister Cathy. I simply just texted my Daddy a picture of the quotation from Katharine Drexel that was on my bedroom wall in Camden. Needless to say, he didn't respond via text message but rather by phone call. What are you doing there? Are you staying? Who are you with? Are you asking for a death wish? Are you serious? Camden of all places? What are you thinking? Yes...my Dad had a little bit of a freak out session. "Relax, Dad," I told him, "we haven't heard any gun shots yet." That didn't help much...obviously. But I reassured him that I would be fine and God was watching over me. If I was meant to be scared, I would have freaked out already. And I didn't. 

      Camden is rated the 1st poorest city in the United States. Not only is it poor but it has the highest crime rate per capita in the US, this includes murder and homicides. Almost half of the city is dependent on drugs. Surprisingly enough an elementary student can make up to $200 a week just by being a drug outlook for dealers. This being said, the drop-out rate for high schoolers is 60-70%. Oh and the average income for a family of four? $18,000. Get this....the entire NINE-SQUARE MILE city of Camden has 80,000 people "living" in it. I say "living" because do you really think sleeping on the street in a wet sleeping bag every night is living? 

     So, needless to say, my Dad had a right reason to be worried about me in a city like Camden. Camden is a city for me that I can see right across the river when I'm home. And while I was in Camden, the skyline of Philly was looming over us as a constant reminder that this is the Calcutta of the United States. However, there wasn't a single second I felt fearful of this city, I had long ago learned to love. 

     They had asked us at the beginning if anyone in our group had been in Camden before, aside from being there for a concert or a visit to the aquarium. Two of us. I spent one day during my summer three years ago gardening with a group of my CREW girls. I saw that Garden this weekend; it still looked good. I spent another day during my summer two years ago painting over graffiti. I saw those murals this weekend...and I painted the same exact spot on the same exact wall I did two years ago. Our murals are still there though. I remember the first time I walked through Camden. I thought to myself, this is what hell looks like. So many imagine hell as place of fire and heat. But Camden, oh no..that's what hell looks like: broken houses, so much poverty it makes you sick, the smell of trash for miles, children running around with no clothes on because no one loves them, and needle after needle after needle, the used-to-be source of drug lovin'. Oh and the skin and bones of people who haven't eaten anything nutritious perhaps their whole lives. There's no love, no hope, no sunshine. That's hell. 

      Yet, it's a hell that didn't scare me. I felt like Orpheus. If I could go into that hell and pull just one person out of it, if I could make someone my Eurydice, I would. That's what keeps me going back. (The story of Opheus and Eurydice is simple. E dies and goes to the underworld. O goes down and pulls her out, saving her and bringing her back to life.) Like I said before, I was excited to be going back to the streets of Camden. I was excited to be meeting people, or as I call them, "New Friends." I was excited to open a window to a world that most people don't know about. 

      We arrived after sundown and as we unpacked our car, a group of young men walked by. My friends were standing on the front porch as I stood in the middle of the street waiting for father to turn around the school van. We didn't want anyone taking the perfect parking spot. When I turned around, I saw the young men and joyfully waved and said hello. I could see the eyes of my friends bug out of their faces. What? I shrugged. It seemed so late, but the night was still young. After a first night of making spaghetti for dinner, a few of us headed to the Joseph's House. 

       Joseph's House is a unique and humbling place. Located in an old Lutheran Church, volunteers set up and cook dinner for about forty regular homeless people. These people come with all they have and set up camp on the floor of the church. It is literally exactly how the would sleep outside but with heat, a warm meal and the opportunity for showers. The first night there, there were a plethora of volunteers already there and so we went home, a bit saddened that we couldn't do much to help. We went back to the place we called home for four days and watched one of the most heart-wrenching documentaries on the children of Camden. As someone who wants to be a teacher, I can tell you it hit so very close to home. 

      The next morning, we were up and at 'em, ready to help out at the Holy Name Confirmation Retreat. But first we got to make fruit salad for the Joseph's House with the Freshmen Students from the Cristo Rey High School in Philadelphia (I was so totally hype because teaching there would be a dream come true....). I made some new (and crazy) friends among the students and easily assumed the role of their older sister. When they were leaving, I was blessed with numerous hugs from all of them. With the Confirmation retreatants, we put on Gospel skits which was a feat for sure. There for four boys and one girl in our group...thankfully, we were blessed with the Gospel of the Prodigal Son. We then had to have a slightly silent Puerto Rican lunch since we were sharing our space with another group. It was soooooo hard! After making so many new friends, it was super hard to keep quiet with these overly-eager beavers. I love them all so much!

       Once the retreat was over, we were blessed to hear the real story of Kenny, a homeless man who lives in Camden. He truly invoked so much conversation and gave us so much insight. He gave us a chance to truly express our feelings for the homeless and what we wanted to bring back to our homes. It was such a beautiful chance for us to share as a group, as individuals and as ourselves. I saw the hearts of so many so open and willing to go the extra mile for people. It was so beautiful!

      That night we had homemade dinner take two. The first night Lindsey and I cooked dinner and very casually Sister Cathy asked if we would let anyone else cook during the weekend. Well, the next night there she was all precious in her apron cooking crayon chicken nuggets, mac and cheese and broccoli with the two of us, while setting the others to fruit salad making and whatnot. We young ladies had a nice lesson in Convent Etiquette 101, lesson: how to peel an orange. Sister Cathy is a trooper for putting up with all the young lady sass this weekend....it didn't end there. 

      After our meal, a few of us headed out again to Joseph's House. That night, I met my friend Archie who looks like an African American Santa Claus and his friend, "Santa." These men shocked and surprised me with their wit, their playful bantering back and forth and extreme knowledge. These men shared their dreams with me and asked me about my dreams. I went to bed that night feeling so overly blessed for gaining two more grandfathers here on earth. 

     The next morning, we were once again up and at 'em ready to help out with CCD classes before going to a Spanish Mass. The truth is, I love kids so much, which is why I have always wanted to be an educator. My dreams as an educator include, but are not limited to, making sure my students know they are loved, knowing that I care about their dreams and their lives, and being able to communicate that to them. The hardest obstacle was communicating with those students that morning. I was silenced literally because most of the students did not speak English and I did not speak Spanish. I tried, but I failed admittedly. I couldn't do it and from that I learned that I need to try my hardest to become bi-lingual. Especially if I want to fulfill my dream of teaching inner city kids. I prayed for all those CCD kids at Mass and I prayed that God would give me the strength to learn another language...soon. Mass, of course, was beautiful. I was blessed enough to sit next to Sister who just happens to be fluent in Spanish and has a beautiful voice. Yes, it truly was a blessing.

     After Mass, we quickly changed into painting gear and headed to North Camden to paint those same exact walls I had painted before. I was literally painting the same exact block of wall I had painted before. It was like a time-travel and it was awesome. Of course, we had to paint with the wind off the waterfront at our backs. It only gave us a more solid understanding of what the homeless had to deal with every day. They never get the chance to go inside a warm home or a warm car. They are outside all the long day, in the cold, with much less than we all had on. I felt the sting of homelessness right there in my heart. I'm not sure what the others got from our experience in the cold, but that was the truth resonating in my heart. Later that night, after cooking again with the whole IU family, we headed out to Joseph's House for a last night with the homeless. When we were leaving, "Santa" and Archie broke my heart by asking if I would be back there again the next night. Oh how I wanted to be there. 

     Monday, our last day consisted of sandwich ministry and recess with the kids. When I woke up this morning, I was so sore. I didn't understand why until I remembered I lifted 10 pound bags and chased kids for an hour. In the sandwich ministry we literally fed some many homeless people sandwiches and made up bags of canned goods for them. What a sight to behold to see a line of people waiting for their first meal in what may have been a long time. At school we ate with the same kids and the peers of the kids we helped on Saturday at retreat. These children are super precious. We played tag for an hour and I've literally never been that out of breath. However, chasing those kids around in tag was the best. I miss that being at school, I miss being able to go over to the grade school and be lunch mom. It was so hard for me to leave those kids.

      As we rode home that day, I couldn't stop reflecting on those kids and their smiles, their beautiful innocent smiles. I love them all so much. I wanted nothing more than to preserve their innocence and let them keep it forever. But I know that in a city like Camden, they would lose that innocence most likely before they even left grade school. My heart ached and broke for them. I will forever remember their smiles and their hugs and innocence. But they aren't the only ones. I found myself in the arms of angels this weekend. Angels whose faces were those who greeted the homeless, angels whose faces were the poor and homeless, angels whose faces were children, angels whose faces were people just needing love. In each hug, I felt myself truly in the arms of angels and I can only hope they each left my presence feeling the same; in the safe haven of an angel's arms. 

Fruit Salad...yummy, yummy

Enough said

Painting the walls.....

Painting Sister....

Sandwich Ministry Time

My Cristo Rey lovebugs <3

A Splash of Crimson

"But loving him was red, 

oh red, burning red.

Darling, it was red."

- "Red," Taylor Swift

     For the first time this semester, I was up before the alarm went off. I was laying in bed when it felt like butterflies were kissing me on my eyelids. It was as if Daddy was gently telling me to wake up, that He had a surprise in store. And after rolling over and almost ignoring the natural wake-up call, the alarm went off a few minutes later. So, I climbed out of bed and actually took my time getting ready for the day. There was no rush, no running late, no trying to find shoes in a hurry, no throwing my hair in a bun because I didn't have time for a crack of dawn shower. There was just time and peace and quiet. Often I am baffled by the fact that I don't actually speak, I don't break the silence of the day, until about an hour after Mass (excluding Mass responses). Yet, today I felt such peace in the quiet and felt no need to speak, no need to break the silence. In fact, I wanted the silence.

    Imagine my surprise when, after coming to the peaceful recognition of the beauty of silence, all of a sudden I heard this insane scratching noise as I walked down the pathway to back campus. What on earth, I thought. So, I stopped, thinking for a brief second I was going crazy and was hearing things. When I looked up to see if there was anything in the tree, I saw nothing but an empty bird's nest; a solid reminder that Winter is still upon us. And when I looked, I realized the noise had stopped. So, I kept walking. But a few seconds later, I heard it again and so I turned around. Humbly sitting on his hind legs in the highest branch was a little gray squirrel chomping down on his breakfast. He was literally cracking down on a HUGE walnut. I laughed, realizing how impossible the squirrel seemed attempting to eat a nut bigger than his head and much bigger than his little hands could hold. Yet, he was determined. I smiled, said hello, took his picture and left him in peace to finish his breakfast.

    As I continued on my walk, I noticed Sister Susan walking from the convent. We would eventually meet at the fork in the sidewalk. I smiled in her general direction and then realized the beautiful red sky behind her. She smiled back in the silence and then nodded her head with a gentle hand motion to direct my attention the back of the school building. I stopped solid in my footsteps and couldn't believe my eyes. THE WHOLE BUILDING SEEMED DRAPED IN A BLANKET OF CRIMSON RED! It was breathtaking. Like, I literally think I stopped breathing for a few seconds. She watched me take it in and then together, like little kids, we watched the sunrise as we walked across the rest of back campus. I snagged a picture real quick, because I could literally NOT let the opportunity slip. It was too beautiful. However, as I was taking the photo, she brought my attention to the cross on the corner of the building. There was "just enough crimson" to cover the Cross. And I thought, how appropriate for the day before Lent: to see the cross draped in red, as a reminder that He shed His blood for us. I smiled as I thanked Him in my heart and then Sister Susan proceeded to take the stairs for me so we could continue our journey to Chapel together. Before I entered Chapel, I said, "I know today will be a day of beautiful wonders because we shared the sunrise together. Thank you." 

     Ever since I was a little kid, I have been fascinated by the sun. I could watch sunsets and sunrises all day. In fact, I could watch the sun dance in between the clouds all day, too. I yearn to take beautiful photos of the sun setting and rising. It, just like words, fills my heart and soul with so much beauty. How could I not accept God's invitation to love after all the beautiful sun scenarios He has given me? Now, I know that many see the sunrise or sunset as something to watch with their significant other, but for me, I wish to share that beauty and love with EVERYONE! In truth, my significant other IS there with me, for He sent me the sun in the first place. But to be able to share the beauty of the sunset or sunrise, like I did this morning with Sister Susan, is such a beautiful moment. 

     The sun does for me what the ocean does for a lot of people; it brings me peace and makes me stop. It's like God is putting up the RED LIGHT and telling me to stop, to recognize, to breathe and to feel the beauty that surrounds me and is within me. God knows, however, that I also love water; calm, drops or flowing streams. And so, He gave me today, both in a poetic sense. Just as a splash in the water catches our attention, God caught mine with a splash of friendship with Sister Susan and a splash of crimson on my face. If only we could all take a few moments of our day and realize the splashes He is making in our lives!

     When we finally got to Chapel, I noticed that a lot of the sisters were straggling in a few minutes after prayers began. It may have been because prayers started earlier than usual, but I like to think that they all enjoyed a moment with their significant other as He splashed all their faces with the beautiful, crimson Son. 

When God Was In College, He Was An English Major

"What knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, 

you wish the author was a terrific friend of yours

and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.

That doesn't happen much, though."

- The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger 

     When was the last time you read a love letter? Or a poem that made you swoon over the beauty of the words? How about a children's book? Maybe even viewing a quotation on Pinterest, StumbleUpon, Instragram or Tumblr? Many of you know I love words so much. Sometimes I read certain words that make my soul and heart fill with so much emotion. I can read sometimes just a sentence and it speaks so much to me. They can make me breathless, sorrowful, loved and so much more. Words can also, when used correctly, give me the power to do the same for someone else. I can choose the most endearing words to flatter someone with true flattery, or I can express my sadness and make the reader cry with me. I could also make heads spin when I work puzzles of words around them when I feel like being cryptic. I can confuse a person, express my anger, and win any debate. When you can use words, you have so much power between your lips. I've often thought this was simply an English Major thing...but then, if it is, God must be an English major.

     Sometimes I am feeling the need for love. So, I take my bible off my book shelf and gently open it. Where I have placed rose petal after rose petal, the pages open to Song of Songs 2:16 "My lover belongs to be and I to him." I swoon for a second, and then read on. It is a love letter from God, written to me (and so many others). It is the most beautiful love letter I have ever read. I never tire of reading it. In Isaiah, only a few books away from SOS, God tells me that "though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). Next Book, Jeremiah, He tells me,"For I know the plans I have for you" (Jeremiah 29:11). Even in Lamentations, He gives voice to the suffering, the broken-hearted. Friends, we didn't even get to Psalms, Proverbs or Hosea, yet, much less the NEW TESTAMENT. If I were to actually quote all the beautiful words the Bible has to offer me as the most beautiful piece of literature, I would essentially be quoting the entire Bible. Instead, I just whet your taste buds for the beauty that is the Bible.

      I have always thought that the Bible was God's truest, deepest, best work of Literature. However, I never really thought of the possibility of God being an English Major. No, that didn't happen til last week when I was in Theology class and we read a section from the Gospels about how Jesus essentially owned those Pharisees in a gentle debate. He not only didn't give them the chance to argue, but he stuck the truth straight to their hearts. Like I said, English Majors can really get to the hearts of people and make them feel. Jesus did that not only with the Pharisees, but with his disciples, his followers, his mother, everyone he spoke to. He was quite the orator, if I say so myself. In fact, he was so great, that someone should have written a book about him. Oh wait....

     Anyway, like a good English Major, I am always reading and increasing my personal Canon. Anyone can tell you that when I read, I read with a writing instrument. Whether it's a pen of varying colors, or pencil, or marker, or crayon, I always have it near by. There are so many words that just jab at my heart or make me feel so much emotion in my soul, that I have to highlight them or write them down somewhere. You can my favorite books from the amount of markings in them. There are plenty of folded, leafed corners and cracks in the spins. My books are well-loved. 

    Often the words I find in my books, I feel as if God, Himself were speaking them to me. Take, for instance, my favorite Children's Book, "Where You Are, My Love Will Find You," by Nancy Tillman. It is a book written from a parent to a child and yet, when I sat in Barnes and Noble reading it to my Sister, two Christmasses ago, I knew immediately why I was meant to read it: God wanted me to feel loved. I felt as if God Himself was reading the book to me. Of course, there are my other favorite books like "A Prayer for Owen Meany," "This House of Brede," "The Shack," "The Alchemist," and so many more....all of them highlighted, underlined and written in, pages leafed and spins cracked. In all of them, I found God's voice. Wow, God. Just wow.

     Suddenly, last week  it hit me. God gave us the most beautiful work of Literature in the Bible, but he also gave us countless authors and illustrators to give us countless books. And so, essentially, He gave voice to these people and what they write are the words He gave them. He is in every word that I read and it is beautiful. God is a writer and a beautiful, creative writer at that. He loves to send those words straight to our hearts. God seriously must be an English Major. What do you think?

This Is Home - Chicago Take Two

"I am home.

Trust in me.

From today, that is all I need to say is....

Don't you know how much you've changed me? 

Strange how I finally see.

I found home.

You're my home."

- "The Transformation," Beauty and the Beast 

     After a long fifteen hour day on Thursday, I called Sister Michele and double-checked the solo flying protocol. All I had to do was print the ticket and the next morning just go through to security in the airport, she confirmed. And so, Mike and I went to the Library to print my ticket. Then, after a series of venting sessions, dinner at Applebees and some homework, I finally finished packing around 2 am. For a few hours I slept in my bed before getting up and going for a run. A nun run, that is.

     I went to bed Thursday night knowing that I would not have time for a nap and I would probably be exhausted by the time I landed in Chicago. But there was an energetic flame in my heart. Within a few hours, I knew I would be seeing not only my AE but also my beloved Chicago Nazareth Sisters. I remembered clear as day how nervous I was about going last year for the first time. I didn't know anyone. Okay, I barely knew a few of the sisters.  But still it was a new place and a new mission and a new experience. I was slightly terrified. This year, however, I was super excited. I was so excited that even the notion of flying solo (I'm flying solo, solo, solooooooooo....) didn't phase me! I was so excited that before the plane even left the ground, I was passed out solid between a few business men and a dad. Before I knew it, the plane was landing! Now there were merely only minutes before I would see my AE! MINUTES!

     I got the warning not to step outside until she texted me. Like a good kid, I obeyed. And when I finally did get the text, I was glad I had listened. Talk about 11 degree weather with a 7 degree wind chill. YIKES! It was FREEZING! Right away bustling conversation took place! Of course! It had almost been a MONTH! And soon, we were pulling into the Provincialate Parking Lot! There were plenty of new sisters to meet and plenty of old friends to hug! Honestly, it was just like walking through the back door of a place I called home. I placed my things in my room in the 2c wing and headed back to help the Coach of the Nun Run team (AKA my AE, Sister Michele) prepare for the Nun Runners. 

      What's this jargon, you ask?! Well, a Nun Run is just that. A group of young women get together and run to the nuns. This year, the nun runners (myself included) were starting at the CSFN Convent (where I just happened to be staying anyway). A few vocation directors from various communities in Chicago joined us for dinner and a Vocation Panel during which we not only asked millions of questions but also heard so many great stories of the sisters. The sisters that joined us ranged from full habited, new communities to very ancient communities to communities without habits and so on and so forth. What was the most beautiful story, I felt, was Sr. Elyse, OP's description of charism. She told us that a charism is the light that shines forth from a facet in a beautifully cut diamond. The light is the same for every community, but the difference is how the light shines through! How beautiful?! We ended the first night of the nun run with The Trouble With Angels. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. SHORT CUT.

       The next morning was an early one as we began with Mass. I fell in love with the priest who gave such an energetic homily where he not only engaged the congregation but also told extremely intriguing stories. Like I said, in love. Soon after we had breakfast. The girls were surprised by the AWESOME breakfast we had, but let's be honest: there's always good eats at the convent! And then we trekked out in the three inches of snow to visit the Carmelites. 

        Sister Teresita (little Teresa) greeted us at the turn and asked us for our special intentions before we headed upstairs to the speak room. In the speak room, behind the grate (I wish I had been able to take a picture....) there were a plethora of brown habited sisters and two German Shepherds. For two hours they spoke to us about the life of Carmel, vocations, life in general and told us so many stories. It was as if they spent all day in silence....oh wait. They do! It's one of the most beautiful things about Carmel that I love: the peace and silence! Contemplative life is the life of my soul. However, Apostolic life is the life of my hands. I could never make it as a Carmelite, not because I can't ever shut up (although some would argue this is the main reason....) but rather because I know I am meant to touch people and help them heal. I can't necessarily do that from the cloister. However, there will always be that longing, that senhsucht, in my heart for the life of Carmel. 

       Next on the Nun Run were the Sisters of the Resurrection. We spent lunchtime with these sisters and how beautiful our time was there. In fact, one of the sisters here knew one of my close CSFN sisters from home. What a small world (and confirmation!). After a beautiful prayer service, we headed on out to visit the Felician Sisters! One of the sisters who was with us, struck up conversation right away with me. Even though she was telling us many stories in the car, it wasn't until we got to the convent that her and I really got to talk. I felt as if we connected right away, before we even had a conversation. Here's the kicker, I was the only one who really understood her word for word. She's from Poland. As we were headed into Chapel, she whispered to me that I was fall in love. And boy did I ever. It was like a mini cathedral hidden like a diamond in the rough. As part of our visit with the Felician Sisters, a few other Vocation Directors from the area joined us for what they call an Emmaus Walk. This is when we each get paired with a Sister by luck of the draw and walk with them to share stories. As I was handed the pile of names, I prayed that I was meant to have a sister who would understand me. I was blessed with Sister Eliana, the Polish Sister who I connected with earlier. I thanked God, because in my little heart, she was the sister I was praying to walk with. And so, we did. We walked and shared and understood. I told her how I understood her so well and we shared much wisdom! I felt so blessed. 

        There was one more stop on the nun run and that was at the Convent of the Sisters of Charity. It is here that I discovered that in Chicago, they cut their round pizza into squares. Yeah...very strange. And I let the Philly girl out of me when I said it was so weird. Of course, at that time I was still saying soda and not pop and getting strange looks. We prayed here, too, with the sisters which was beautiful! And we always received prayer partners. Ironically, when I first sat down in the living/community room, I had no idea my Prayer Partner, Sister Marsha, was sitting next to me. At the end of our time, it was revealed to us and I couldn't help but think how great God is with His poetic foreshadowing. God must have been an English Major!

        My exhaustion was running high as we piled into the convent car and headed back to the CSFN convent. Except, I was the only one staying again. I kept thinking to myself, I can't wait to hop into my pj's and get some sleep. AND IT WAS ONLY NINE O'CLOCK. But then somehow, I ended up in the 2B community room around the corner with Sister Maria Sophia, Sister AE, and Sister Gabriella. FOR THREE AND A HALF HOURS. I edited Sister Gabriella's paper, we skyped with Sister Cordia in Philadelphia, we chatted tons and tons, and after Sister Maria Sophia and Sister AE trickled off to bed, Sister Gabriella and I stayed up chatting some more. 

     You see, she's also a college student and most of her energy is spent during the night. Staying up til midnight (or later) is normal for both of us and there was plenty to catch up on. She's always been one to ask me "So, when are you entering?" And I've always given her the quick answer, "I don't know." It's not a pressure filled question, but rather a question from one big sister to her little sister. It's exactly how when I ask Mary, my little sister, when she is coming home. I always get an indefinite answer. This time, however, I was able to really put into words my fears, my joys and my duties. Finishing school, getting a degree and a job and paying off loans all have to be done before I can enter. The loan thing is the biggest hurdle. But then, how do I leave home? How would I survive a community where so many sisters are almost old enough to be my parents (no disrespect intended!)? How could I do  it? And she gave me so much insight. I honestly felt like I was confiding in my big sister and she was giving me counsel and HOPE!

       The next morning, I joined the council for prayers and breakfast in their wing. Later, I joined the rest of the sisters for Sunday Mass during which we celebrated: Consecrated Life Day, a 51st Wedding Anniversary for a local couple and the feast of St. Blase. When I sang, as a mere member of the congregation, I truly felt my heart sore. It was a true recognition of truth, beauty and home. Right after Mass, a good group of us ran out the door in six inches of snow to see the High School Production of Beauty and the Beast at St. Viator High School where Sister Maria Sophia teaches. I can honestly say that as many times as I have seen Beauty and the Beast, I have never cried so much during it. It was just so well-done and simply beautiful. Of course, I obviously found so many connections to what I was feeling that weekend.

       The good news that follows this, is that we made it back just in time for supper and the Superbowl. Of course, my interest in football is about a negative 54%. So, while the majority of the sisters were watching, and a few others were doing homework, school prep work and council work (or playing Words with Friends....) I was teaching Sister Luke how to not only add contacts but take pictures and set them as caller IDs! I knew the lesson was successful when she called me later from upstairs just to check the score of the game! We made it to the end of the game where the emotions were running high in the room. Of course, I was busy snacking on the AWESOME Buffalo Chicken Dip made by the always lovely Canonical Novice, Sister Faustina! At the last 13 seconds, when the Ravens took a safety shot, the sisters were on the edge of their seats. Half the room was voting 49ers, and the other half was voting Ravens. At 34:31, it was so close! And finally....finally, the room exploded in cheers as the Baltimore Ravens came through with the wind. It was almost ten o'clock by then. 

       Oh how I so wanted to sleep. But there was a subtle invitation from Sister Gabriela. Of course, I did the natural college wake me up and took a hot shower. Which, mind you, every time I took a hot shower, I thought I set off the fire alarm because half way through the shower, the water just starts SCREAMING. Anyway, quickly into my PJ's I went and headed softly down the hall to her door. She jumped up, grabbed the blanket and a movie and ran with me (like sisters..) to the community room to watch it. Of course, it was a new movie for me and yet, a movie she had "known well." I was crying, she was crying, we were laughing and gasping and yeah...it was a good movie! By 12:30, I was exhausted again and had no problem falling asleep. 

      The next morning at 5 am, I quick jumped out of bed and met Sister Maria Sophia in the lobby. We headed out in what was now ten inches of snow for Mass and then a long day at St. Viator High School. There I observed different English and Theology classes as well as shared my story. Who was I? Where was I from? What was I doing there? It all came down to a mere college student who wants to be a nun. However, at one point I got introduced as a nun and I had to smile and say, nuns don't normally where mascara  or eye liner. Before I knew it, the full day was OVER and we were headed home. Then...it was a rapid mission to pack and clean in an hour. Could I do it? Yes. Could I do it without crying? Maybe not.

       During the time I was packing and organizing my room, Sister Maria Sophia and Sister Angela came to visit. You know you are comfortable with the sisters and the sisters are comfortable with you when you can pack all your belongings (including dirty laundry) in front of them and neither party minds. I was trying so hard not to cry. So hard. I had felt so at home, so loved during the time I spent there. I felt like me. Truly Becca, truly me. I didn't feel out of place or awkward or even restrained. In fact, I felt freer than ever. 

      As I carried my things down the stairs before one final sweep of my room, I met a few Sisters along the way: Sister Michael Marie, Sister Mary Ann and Sister Stella Marie. Each of those sisters have such a beautiful spot in my heart. I made a final stop in the Chapel, gave hugs goodbye and did the sweep. I took my time saying good bye because nun time is all relative. We printed my plane ticket and packed the car. To the airport I went after one final good-bye and "Kochem Cie" (I love you in Polish....). Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

      Finally, I was on the plane sitting next to a gentle old man and an empty seat. I plugged my earbuds into my iphone and pressed play. What was the first song that came on? "This Is Home" by Switchfoot. Yep, instant tears. There was so much about this weekend in Chicago that made me thank God over and over. There were so many little confirmations or God-Winks as I like to call them. The snow was a HUGE confirmation that I was where I needed to be at that present moment. I know they are called Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth for a reason, because I certainly felt like a mala siostra (little sister) in a big family. I felt loved, so very loved. And yes, deep down in my heart, I knew, rather, was almost reminded of where I belong: As Jesus' beloved. Because honestly, this is home. 

Sister Angela ;)

Sister Eliana, a Felician Sister

The Most Beautiful Chapel

The Superbowl girls

A shoeless match made in Heaven

The Nun Runners

A snowy message from God

Sister Lucille

The Carmelite Turn

Meant To Be A.....

"You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one! I hope someday you'll join us." - John Lennon

For many of you, you know that it is Catholic Schools week! You might also know, whether by the infamous Facebook posts from moms or the giggling little ones standing outside of stores, that it's also Girl Scout Cookie season! Both of those events are key players in my crazy, adventure-filled week!
A few weeks ago before I went back to school, Sister Marcelina asked me to be a special person for her class on Special Persons day during Catholic Schools Week! Of course I said yes! CSW was my favorite week growing up and honestly, one of the reasons I was so sad when my grade school was closing was because our parish wouldn't be celebrating it anymore! But God had a different plan! Typically on Special Persons Day, parents or grandparents of the students come in and talk about their profession. That's great except, I'm neither a parent nor grandparent and I also don't have a profession!! So, at work on Monday morning, I was almost begging the sisters for prayers for inspiration for something to talk about! Having nothing, I pulled into the driveway of the school on Tuesday morning and sighed! Then I went to move by backpack from the front seat when I got the inspiration! My profession is that of a college student/teacher wanna-be! Needless to say, with no preparation at all, I carried my backpack into the classroom and began talking with the sixth graders about dreams and my dream to be an English High School teacher! It all started with one book, I told them: Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss! They loved it! At the end, I told them all that in order to achieve their dreams they have to want it and they have to work toward it, especially in college!! Admits all the talking and questions we also had music practice because I told then that I love to sing and then they performed their favorite song for me too! My morning with them ended with the two boys proposing my thank you gift to me in the front of the room! I couldn't stop laughing! As mug as I loved being in that classroom though, those kids certainly instilled in me that I am meant to be a HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER!
Later that day, I headed back to school to find a package in my PO Box! It was an entire case of mixed Girl Scout Cookies from the Brogan girls, Caleigh and Meghan! I was overjoyed....and so were my friends! At Mass the next day, I prayed for the Brogan family and realized how much in my heart I missed them all! But I was reminded too of how much faith in my vocation they instill in me! I don't think those girls know how much they instill that faith in my vocation! It is because of their faith that I know I am meant to be a sister!! Not because they drive me crazy (they are perfect little girls) but because they are a reminder of how many children I could affect with my love for Jesus!
And so, it's the little signs given to us from God that truly do help us know we are what He intends us to be! We simply have to be open to hearing His voice!