The Long Awaited God Wink

"Everyday we find something new,

well this day I found you. 

I found love and joy all in one. 

You sent me back to where I once was.

There just ain't nothing else that compares."

- Trevor Hall, "You Find Me."

It has been over a month since I've written, and while some bloggers might apologize to their followers, I have to apologize to myself. Writing is often a form of prayer, a form of thanksgiving for blessings received, and I haven't stopped for a month to write. Of course, I know how long it's been since I've written because technology tells me. But what technology can't tell me is how long it's been since I've gone to daily Mass with the Sisters or how long it's been since I've prayed Morning Prayer with them. All I know is that my heart says it's been too long. 

    I told my students the Friday before I left that I had been waiting months to leave for Peru. In fact, my count down app told me that it was 74 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes the day I bought my ticket. It was so close but it wasn't close enough. However, to be completely honest, my job had me so busy that I really didn't have time to count down day by day. Occasionally, I would check the app and get giddy at the shortened length of time I had to wait. I got more and more excited as the days passed. Suddenly, it was the last day I needed to wait. I found myself telling story after story to my students. I found myself counting down the hours before I could leave the parking lot. I finished packing when I got home and started my adventure by going to the Mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe in Spanish. There was no better way to begin. 

    As I walked through the security at the airport after having checked my bags, reality began to hit me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane destined for my favorite country in the world in which lived a plethora of my favorite people. I sat in the airport waiting and waiting. I was surrounded by people who were waiting. All of us were waiting for something: to go home, to see loved ones, for a plane to arrive, for lunch to be served, for a business deal to be made, for a phone call, for a birthday wish. Waiting is always something that permeates airports and it was definitely permeating my heart. However, while I thought I was waiting for the plane to arrive to take me to Peru, there was a different waiting hiding in the deep crevices of my heart. 

      There is so much that happened on my adventure to Peru. I offered so many hours of service to various schools, I spent time with my dear Sisters, I met the families of some of the Sisters at the Christmas Gathering, I went shopping with a new friend, I attended the graduation of my CSA Students, I took a bus and got a little lost in a city I have loved for so long, I convent-hopped like a champ, I did so much more. But I also had many conversations with my Sisters, I joined them for daily Mass, I joined them for prayers, I walked arm in arm with them, I walked hand in hand with them, I held their hands during the Padre Nuestra, I celebrated life with them and I discerned with them. I served right next to them. I was a part of their love, their service, their lives. I was home. 

     Life has taken a road of different scenery in these past months. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful scenery, something familiar, yet untouched for so many years. Yes, I've ventured out and experienced a lot of things different than what I have been used to. Yes, it's been worth the journey. But there always has seemed like there was something missing. The literal scenery changed when I got to Peru, but suddenly, I was back with my Sisters. I had been away from them for so long and finally, I was back, I was home. There was nothing more than that that I needed. Even if days were short and I did nothing more than go to Mass, pray, eat lunch with them, that was all I needed. My heart had been waiting the simplicity of their lives. 

     While so much had happened on my trip, there are two experiences that will always remain with me. Number one: my Montenegro adventure. There really are not enough words to describe the love that permeates the streets there. I got on an unfamiliar bus, rode to a place I had only visited twice, and walked the streets as if I had lived there for years. When my feet hit the dirt roads, there was something so overtly wonderful about the place. I looked to the hills and felt love. Sister George told me to go find my heart, the heart which I had left in Peru. I find it, Sister. I found it once again. But unfortunately, I left it there again. Between the bilingual conversations, my appreciation for the silence in my heart, and seeing the beautiful children at the posada, I couldn't have been happier. But I think the happiness was also present in the small convent community room while enjoying popcorn and homemade hot chocolate while watching CNN with the Sisters. It was present in the extra blanket left on my bed because it got chilly. It was present in the little chapel on the second floor with a beautiful view of a lit village on the hill. It was present in the front rose garden with it's freshly cut grass. It was present in the causa for lunch. I was happy there. My heart was so happy. 

      When I left Montenegro, there was a sadness in my heart. I was very quiet on the way back to Miraflores (and no, not just because Spanish was the main language in the care that day). I watched the hills fade behind me. I was still so filled with happiness, not just from my visit there, but from my time spent in all of Peru with so many of my Sisters. Before I knew it, I found myself in a little chapel I had never visited before - the one at Villa Maria, Miraflores. Sister Liz, my dear friend, ushered me to the chapel, just as she had many times before. I sat in the Chapel and within seconds, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. All my fears, my happiness, my doubts, my worries, my signs and confirmations came swelling out of my heart at once. I spoke right to Jesus...and even though it's been a while, He still listened. Suddenly, Sister Liz was back and with a gentle arm around my shoulders, she held me close like the big sister she is. She took me to the tabernacle, but my hands on the door, put hers on top of mine and prayed as so many of the others had - for my discernment. Of course, I didn't stop crying. 

       We went from there to Mass in the church down the street. I was sandwiched between two of my Sisters who graciously held my hands during the Padre Nuestra. I was exactly where I was meant to be because it was there that I had realized what I had been waiting for: God's confirmation. I hadn't prayed with my Sisters in such a long time...I was back where I was meant to be. It was the most perfect place to be. I had felt a change in heart, a change in scenery, back to the familiar and the amazing.

      I still had two nights in Peru at that point and those next two nights were the perfect nights. They involved pj parties with the nuns over two great movies, more prayer, more discernment in the day to day life. It was a busy time for me to visit because it was Christmas and the closing of the school year. At the airport before I left, one of the Sisters said she was sorry she couldn't have spent more time with me because it was such a busy time. I had no idea what she was talking about. I came not asking to be entertained, but to serve where God needed me to serve and to share the life of my Sisters for the week. What I needed was a week of prayer with my Sisters. What my heart had been waiting for was those simple moments of small conversations, daily hugs and kisses, the knowledge of permeating love. There was nothing more that I could have asked for. Those small moments with each of my Sisters were what my heart needed - a reminder of what I have been called to do. 

    I didn't cry when I said my good-byes, I cried when I woke up and saw the most beautiful sunrise from the window seat 25F. I cried then because I realized how much love I had just left behind. I had left my heart in Peru again. In fact, I think it has a permanent spot there with my Sisters. I cried because of how much God had spoke to my little heart in such little time. It was simply amazing how wonderfully blessed I felt. The reverse culture shock, that is, the shock of not having five beautiful women of God right next door or down the hallway, was the hardest adjustment. Even now, I am suffering from the reality that they are not with me. Yet, I know they are always in my heart. I love them each so much, more than can ever imagine, and I am grateful for the prayerful week they gave me. 

      In all my waiting, I felt a small solidarity with Mary and Joseph who had awaited the birth of their Son for so long. However, the difference was that they were blessed with the birth of a baby. Me on the other hand, experienced a re-birth of God in my soul, happiness in my heart and knowledge of the future. I could not thank my Sisters enough for being the pathway through which God reach me. It was a long awaited God wink and it only took me 9 days in a country, almost 4000 miles away, for me to realize that not only had God always been there, but that I needed a re-birth. And now, to live for Jesus with this renewed spirit of mine. 

     To all of my Sisters in Peru, thank you for the gift of your hugs, kisses, time and words. I could not possibly thank you enough for all the love you showed me this past week. It was a perfect discernment week in a perfect place with some perfect people. I love you each so much, and yes, I already miss you. Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano Nuevo. 

Fluff Removal

"If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, 

be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear."

- A.A. Milne, "Winnie-the-Pooh

     A few weeks ago, I was asked to give a talk to middle school students at an EDGE program. I was asked to speak about vocations and my personal discernment journey. As I was preparing for this talk, I was struggling with how to relate this to the students. Of course, it wasn't until I arrived there that I thought of how I could do it. I usually relate communication with God to music as there is usually at least one student who plays an instrument. While I did that, I also related it to one of my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh quotes. 

     Winnie-the-Pooh has always been a favorite of mine to quote. Of course, Pooh has even more significance as I get older. He not only reminds me of one of my closest Sisters but he also seems more and more relatable. And whenever he pops up, I feel like I am getting a special sign from God. So, because he is so familiar to me, I felt it was perfect to share with the students the above quotation. 

     I told the students about the quotation and I said that sometimes God is speaking to us but we have fluff in our ears. I asked them to imagine having an earache and having the cotton ball the nurse gives us in our ear. Remember the feeling that you know someone is speaking but you can't really hear them that well? Well, that's how fluff is. But sometimes some people have more fluff than other people. Pooh has warned against this fluff stuff. And our God is so patient that He understands when we have fluff in our ears. He speaks and waits for us to remove the fluff. Although, sometimes we even need help removing the fluff.

     I want to go back to Winnie and one of my closest Sisters. I'm not sure why but she loves Winnie-the-Pooh. As I went through my college years, I began to feel more and more like a Piglet to her Winnie-the-Pooh. Piglet is always unsure of things and Pooh always has the answers. Pooh always had something of significance to say, even if it sometimes didn't make sense. He was confident in whatever he said, confident in whatever he did, confident in who he was. And of course, he was patient. He was so because he recognized that sometimes fluff happens. Sister was always that figure of Pooh to me. And I was always Piglet. My favorite Piglet/Pooh conversation? "Piglet sidled up to Pooh. 'Pooh?' he whispered? 'Yes, Piglet?' 'Nothing, I just wanted to be sure of you.'" Sometimes we don't need words, we just need to be sure of one another. And I always felt like I needed to be sure that Sis would always be there for me. 

     So, when I started telling the students about having fluff in their ears and not being able to hear God's words clearly, I began to also hear Sis say, "remove the fluff from your own ear." I'm not sure if that's something she would say, but I could imagine her relating my current spiritual distress to Pooh in some way, shape, or form. And because that quotation was so fresh in my mind, I figured she might equate it to the fluff in my own ears. I told the students that God is always speaking to us, we just simply need to listen. And even if we listen really, really, really hard, if we have fluff in our ears, His voice won't be clear.

     A few weeks before I gave this EDGE talk, I had signed up for a silent, private retreat. I had been searching for silence. As an introvert, I need silence and alone time to function. However, I am in a profession and ministry that surrounds me with people. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it had been seemingly difficult to find some silence and alone time. So, out of spiritual desperation, I signed up for a silent retreat. Confirmations from God always happen in threes for me. So I had called another Sister friend and asked her about her suggestion for a silent retreat. She mentioned the place where I had just booked my retreat. I then went to one of the Sisters with whom I work and asked for her suggestion. She said the same place. My third confirmation came later when my Dad told me that my grandfather with whom I had been very close in my early years, had often went there for retreat. I knew I was meant to go there. I knew that my needs for silence and for a retreat was real. 

     It has been a while since I've been on retreat and so it was time for one. I felt I needed silence, not necessarily a directed, silent, retreat, but just silence. I was ready and excited to go and be away from all the confusing, conflicting, exciting, energetic aspects of my life, because truly in the past few months, things have just built and built. I knew this because I know myself. But when I was speaking to the students, I realized, my confusion was probably coming from not being able to listen and hear God clearly. My own confusion was coming from having a small (or rather large) piece of fluff in my ears. And so, in a few minutes, after the final bell of the day rings, I am going to embark on my journey to a silent retreat. I have packed a few prayer books, my bible, my journal, some looseleaf, some snuggly pjs but most importantly, I have my walking boots. The only thing I plan on doing aside from participating in liturgy, is walking and walking pretty far. I will walk in silence to a place where I can remove the fluff and finally, hear God's voice clearly again. As I've told a few people, I'm going on retreat to figure out life. But in reality, I never will. Only God knows His plan for me. 

     And so, as I embark on this journey for the weekend, I have reached out and asked people if they have any special intentions they would like me to carry with me. My students, co-workers and friends have filled two pages back to back of intentions. I will carry your intentions with me as well. My journey begins in about ten minutes. I'll start be grabbing a Chestnut Praline Latte for the long car ride and I will be on my way. You're in my prayers. And to give you your own experience of silence, I'm not adding a song this time. Enjoy. 

Princesses and Super-Heroines

"We are all made in the image and likeness of God.

God in king. If we are made in His likeness, we, too, are royalty. 

Let's learn to treat each other as such."

- Miss G

    Yesterday was my very first day of teaching my very first official class. It's been a day that I have been waiting for...for, well, as long as I can remember. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning. For what seems like forever, I have wanted to teach. I remember teaching my stuffed animals, my younger sisters, my peers and realizing that I must be called to be a teacher. As I started my college career and taking education classes, that realization turned into a dream and now, it's a reality. The margins of all my notebooks in college were covered in random lesson plan ideas and brainstorming for ways to present various types of material. I would think of something and write it down to save it for my eventual classes. All last week, ideas were busting out of every single crevice of my brain and onto the paper. However, the idea I had for my very first class came from a conference that I attended a while back and a Christian singer-songwriter. I'd like to share that with you now. 

     The name of the song is "Hello, My Name Is...." written by Matthew West (listen below). I had heard the song many, many times but it simply was another good song on KLOVE. That was until I found myself at the Women of Faith Conference during which Matthew West was performing. He presented to us the inspiration behind his latest album: other people's stories. And behind the story of this particular song is a young man Jordan who used to introduce himself as "Hello, my name is Jordan and I'm a drug addict." The story was about Jordan's addiction to painkiller drugs after a brutal accident on the field. After some therapy and rehab, however, Jordan can now proudly introduce himself in this way, "Hello, my name is Jordan and I am a Child of the Risen King." This concept got me truly thinking and honestly, I spent the next hour jotting down an activity for my class rather than listening to the next speaker. Here's what I came up with:

      The class I teach is titled, Catholic Social Teaching. For those of you who know me, you know that CST is one of my biggest passions for many reasons but mostly because it provides me with an outlet to be a very loud and proud, Catholic, woman. CST is often referred to the Church's Best Kept Secret. There's no question about it that many Catholics in today's day and age do not know about it. However, our present Pope is doing a awful lot to promote it. The first thing that everyone needs to know about CST is that it begins and ends with Human Dignity. Human Dignity is not something we are all often mindful of. Human Dignity is expressed in the way we smile or don't smile at people we pass by, the way we drive, the way we treat those by which we are surrounded, those who would not necessarily give attention to, etc. Labels are things that often inhibit us from expressing human dignity because instead of referring to someone by their name, we refer to them by their negative attributes. In the example of Jordan: he was referred to as the Drug Addict, not Jordan. 

     And so, I encouraged the students to write down their names on some "Hello, my name is..." stickers. Then I asked them to write a negative attribute that they associate with or a sin that they often battle with. I suggested words like regret, lack of self-esteem, quiet, etc. We listened to the song and then I asked if anyone wanted to share their labels. Afterward, I played the video for them. In the story, there's a theme of redemption. At the end, Jordan says, "I no longer say, 'I am a drug addict' but rather, 'Hello, my name is Jordan and a child of the one true King." I had the girls then write positive labels for each other. Labels that would recognize their human dignity. Then again, I asked for anyone to share. One student said, "I wrote down sheepish for my negative. And she wrote 'leader of the herd.'" It was so perfect. 

     I later went on to explain that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. God is the King...He is royalty. Therefore we are made in the image and likeness of royalty, thus, making us all princes and princesses. They all really liked that concept. But the curve ball was this: WE ARE ALL...so why are there instances when we don't treat others like the princes and princesses we are? If we believe we are princesses and request to be treated as princesses, why can we not fulfill the same requests of our brothers and sisters, our fellow princes and princesses? It was a thought provoking conversation and we left the classroom thinking about being princesses and treating others just the same. 

      My next day's lesson began with a creative writing prompt. The prompt read: create a super-heroine and describe her character. Explain how she promotes human dignity and why that is a super power. Of course, I asked a few students to share. After that I professed that each of us could easily be that super-heroine. We each have the super-powers to promote human dignity. Even if we don't wear a crown or a cape, we are still princesses and super-heroines. 

      While it may sound pretty cheesy to teach this to 17 and 18 year old girls, the truth of the matter is this: as kids we pretended to be princesses and super-heroines. We really believed that we could do that. So...why can't we do it anymore? Why can't we treat each other like the royalty that we are? We can't we start saving the world little by little to promote human dignity? I don't see why not...We need to go back to the beliefs we had as children, as little girls. Children have the deepest belief of God and goodness...we need to go back to that. 

     And so...think about your labels. Transform them into prince or princess, super-hero or heroine. Realize that all of those surrounding you are royalty, made in the image and likeness of God, the King. Treat each other like royalty, with dignity, with truth and with justice. Simple be kind and love. 

(Halloween) Masks

"People seldom change. Only their masks do.

It is only our perception of them and the perception

they have of themselves that actually change."

- Shannon L. Alder

     Conversations in the faculty lunchroom can be anything from the latest episode of some tv show to the lunch offerings for the day to the upcoming festivities. Today, it was a little bit of all three, but with a main emphasis on the next holiday, namely, Halloween. As talk concerned various Halloween costumes, records being broken, Halloween memories and so much more, I began to think about masks. Recently I had been reflecting on how exhausting it is to "keep face." And in the spirit of Halloween, I figured I would share those instances of reflection for you.

      We all wear masks. Some people confuse hats with masks. They say some times I am a teacher, some times I am a mother, a sister, a daughter, etc. Those are not masks. They are, for sure, hats. So what are masks? Masks are appearing happy when you're really sad, appearing sweet and innocent but actually being not so nice, appearing as a prankster but actually hating the spotlight, etc. Masquerades allowed people of all social classes to interact with one another at a celebration. Masks allowed people to hide who they were. Masks still hide who we are.

     Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, we all wear masks at some point in our life, if not most of our lives. We put on masks when we are meeting new people. We put on masks with the people we know, although some times they can see straight through our masks. We put on masks in our jobs, in our homes, in our social gatherings. We put masks on to protect ourselves against vulnerability. Masks are some times equated to armor; they will protect but instead they do everything but. 

      Masks. I wear them. Some times my mask comes in the form of words like, "I'm just tired." "It's been a long day." or even, "I'm just not feeling good." Some times my masks come in the form of humor, a cheesy smile, or music. Some times my masks come in the form of a closed door to my office or my bedroom. Some times even in the form of a simple excuse of "I'm going out to take pictures....far, far, far away." Yes. I wear masks. I've always been an actress, I've always been able to do it. But recently I've been realizing something. It's hard keeping face; it's hard being someone you're not. 

     Something about myself that I've known for a very long time is that I don't trust people right away with me. I have a sense of baby-like trust with people concerning everything but my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings. It takes me a very long time to even tell people that I'm upset about something....a little something. I usually become very quiet and call it a day. But in doing that, in holing up and becoming quiet, one begins to bottle things up. One becomes a jar of empty, negative feelings. And just like any mixture of emotions bottled up, it's bound to explode one day. 

      If we look at the picture above, we see an interpretation of a mask. One thing I focused on right away when I first saw it was the very concept that the man is holding the mask. If you're anything like me, holding up a mask like that for a long period of time might be considered strenuous activity. Seriously. Imagine holding your arms up for a long while. At some point, you're going to want to put it down. At some point, holding up your mask is going to get tiring. It might turn toward strenuous activity. It's exhausting trying to keep your face. 

      Last week, I was feeling incredibly tired and I couldn't quite grasp why. I was getting enough sleep, I was getting my morning coffee, I was doing things that were healthy and energizing. Yet, I was tired. But also last week, I felt like I was putting on a mask. You see, even though I've been walking daily into the same setting with the same people for the past two and a half months, I don't feel like I can quite be wholly me yet. Wholly me is this: a sassy, little, princess-like person with a fresh air of Catholic devotion to all things. Wholly me is someone who feels deeply in all aspects of feelings. Wholly me is someone who loves to sing and perform. Wholly me is someone is simple, basic, honest. But when I feel threatened in any way, shape or form, or if I can't wholly trust people yet, I suddenly feel like I can't be me. I can't be silly, I can't be simply happy, I can't be who I was meant to be. I put on a mask. 

      I realized after a while that a big part of the reason why I was so exhausted was because I was holding up a mask. I realized I was so tired because I was trying to keep up a subtle persona and not be extravagant me. Because wholly me is also very extravagant...I walk with an aura of pizazz. I walk with an air of EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL IF WE LET BE. Normally...unless I'm wearing a mask. And honestly, it was more tiring to not be energetic than it was to be energetic. 

      Keeping face is exhausting. Walking around in shoes or outfits or wigs that we aren't used to wearing on Halloween, is exhausting (especially after the candy coma). Just so, wearing a figurative mask is exhausting, too. It's hard to always seem like everything is fine or that you're a different person than you really are. The problem comes when we are so attached to our masks that we lose who we truly are. We forget our silliness or our strength or our emotions. It's tiring, it's exhausting, it's strenuous. 

     So my challenge is this, to both myself and to you: after Halloween today, put your masks away for a little bit. Try to be who you really are. Try to be confident. A great person once reminded me that all we need is 20 seconds of courage and we can be all that we need to be. So, after today, I'm taking off my masks. I'm going to take some risks. I'm going to be me. 

Dressed In Sunday Best

"Anyone can get dressed up and be glamourous,

but it is how people dress on their days off that is 

most intriguing."

- Alexander Wang

     When I walked into school today I was wearing a black maxi skirt, a maroon long sleeve v-neck and mustard yellow button down cardigan. Oh I can't forget my infinity scarf. Also when I walked in, I had my backpack on, was carrying two hot/cold mugs and a container of soup. My hair was frizzy thanks to the rain outside and my TOMs were a little wet. As I trudged up the stairs, I pretty much wanted to go back to bed on this dreary day. However, two dearhearts were seemingly waiting for me. I stopped to talk to them and after having a discussion of petitioning for rainy days off, one of them told me a story about her Sunday Church Clothes outfit. A direct quotation, "I was feeling very Miss G-ish." 

     If you asked my 18-year old sister, she would tell you that I have no sense of style. What she means by that is that my style is not the same as her style. Basically if you went on Pinterest and searched Fall Fashion, you would find some things similar to what I wear on the reg. Long skirts, big sweaters, fall-ish colors, skater skirts, and some type of sensible shoe. The truth is, I love getting dressed up. I've always loved dresses and skirts. Of course, I LOVE sweaters and scarves. And there are even times when I love putting make-up on. Getting dressed up has always been something I simply enjoyed doing. And while some people wish they had jobs that required a dressed down setting, I love being a teacher because I get to look cute and snappy. 

    Of course, I never really realized how much I enjoyed fashion until one of my high school teachers, Miss C, said something about it. In fact, I actually denied what she had to say for a few years. She always used to tell me that the hardest thing for me to give up when I enter religious will be fashion. I always deny this. I always tell her that it won't bother me at all. But the more I started to think about it...I'm kind of attached to my sweaters. Anyway...that doesn't really matter. Truth is, that's not the main part of this post. Sunday best is. 

     Last week our way home from a community service event, I was talking with another one of our faculty members about how we were brought up Catholic. I began to tell her that it was always required of us to wear nice clothes for Mass. Nice clothes meant dresses or skirts. No jeans, no t-shirts, no sweatshirts, no leggings, no sneakers. If we even thought about it, Dad would know and we would be marched back upstairs for a more appropriate outfit. My Dad, who wears a suit every weekend, would have had a fit if we tried to pull a stunt like wearing jeans to Mass. Of course, she shared a similar experience. It was always Sunday best for Mass on Sunday. 

     As I drove home from school that night I started to laugh at myself. It seems absurd now-a-days to be caught going to church is something other than jeans and a t-shirt. But the truth is, my family still does. I was laughing, too, because I have a whole other perspective as to why I dress up for Sunday Mass. Whereas my Dad grew up with the same concept of dressing nice for Mass, I have a different feel for it other than just being brought up that way. Of course, being someone who likes to dress up is just added motivation. 

     I think of going to Mass in this way: I've had a standing date with God every Sunday morning since the day after I was born. Seriously. Every Sunday, God and I get to go on a date. We get to spend a little one on one time at His house. We have conversation and quiet times together. We enjoy each other's company. Every Sunday, we have a serious date. If I was going on a date with someone else, I wouldn't show up in my sweats or pjs. I would spend all morning getting ready. I would want to go out a week in advance and pick out a new outfit. I would fret over my hair for days. Why wouldn't I give the same amount of attention to my appearance before meeting God for our weekly date? 

     A Sister I know told me once that she always irons her habit before Mass in the morning. After Mass, she doesn't care how many wrinkles she gets, so long as she is in her perfect habit for Mass. Her reasoning behind this? She is dressing to meet her Beloved and she wants to be her best dressed. Every day this woman does this. Every day she makes she she looks absolutely wonderful in her habit before catching her Beloved at Mass. It makes me smile. 

     Now some may say, God loves me regardless of what I wear. Well yes, this is true. Unless you're donning one of those way too over-rated and popular halloween costumes. Some may say, God loves me in my sweatpants, God loves me in my t-shirts, God loves me in my pajama pants. Yes. Yes, He does. But what do we equate with the concept of getting dressed up? We dress up for important events and when we are meeting a significant person in our lives. We dress up because of the significance of the event. Someone I know once said, "I would wear my wedding dress every day if I could because my marriage is still as important as it was on the day I got married."

     Perhaps I am stuck in the ideas that we don't really give much thought to our appearance anymore. I don't think the emphasis should be completely on our outward appearances, true. But I still see that dressing up for special occasions is still viable. As far as I am concerned, going to Mass is a special occasions. For many, it's the only time one gets to see and sit for an hour with God. For even more, it's the only time one has to talk to God. If we dress up when we are going out with friends, friends who are probably attached to our fingertips, I think we can at least ditch the sweatpants and t-shirts when we go to Mass on Sunday. It's not asking much to maybe give a little more thought to your appearance for an hour on Sunday. 

     The truth is exactly what Alexander Wang said above: how people dress on their days off is most intriguing. I always had a fear that my students would see me dressed down after school. But I know one thing is for sure, they won't see me dressed down on Sunday. I'll be dressed in my Sunday best right next to my dad in his suit. For me, dressing up for Mass is significant of how I feel about the importance of God. Honestly, you don't have to go out and buy all new clothes for Mass, but hey, at least brush your hair and ditch the sweats. Thanks. 

 

What Belongs to Caesar? - Mission Sunday Reflection

"He felt a call to the missions of America. 

But when we think 'America,' we don't usually think 'missions.' 

The problem? We were and still are the missions."

     Early Sunday morning (earlier than usual for a Sunday), I found myself sitting in a quiet, half-full, church with my dad. We were sitting in the pew that had the nameplate in honor of his parents. I looked around the church and saw a number of familiar parishioners. They were the parishioners who I see at daily Mass, at almost every church function, and even around my little town. They were the parishioners I love, my family. But when I looked out from my little pew, the emptiness of the church really affected me. 

     Our celebrant for Mass was a Holy Spirit Father currently missioned at their all boy preparatory school down the street. As he began his homily he spoke about his journey from Nigeria to Haiti to the United States. He was a young when he was ordained and felt called to missionary work. I smiled as he spoke about Haiti and his love for the people there. I thought about my children in Jamaica and Peru; memories of a missionary spirit truly in action filled my heart. I cannot wait to go back, I thought. I cannot wait to continue putting my call into action. I got a little lost in my thoughts and memories until Father started talking about his mission to the United States. 

     For the past four summers, I have given the Mission and History presentation at Immaculata. This, without a doubt, includes the mission and history of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. When I introduce the incoming students to Father Gillet I always ask them if they think of the United States as missionary territory. Most times I get looks that read: uh, no? we have food, water and society. OR what exactly is missionary territory? Regardless, most will not necessarily understand that the United States was a missionary territory at some point. Missionary work is not something we usually equate with the US but rather Africa, Asia or South America. Anywhere but here. 

     For those who are like some of the new students, Missionary Territory usually relates to a place where people are "unchurched," that is, people who don't know Jesus yet, the unbaptized, etc. Religious Priests, Brothers and Sisters go to these places to catechize and preach the gospel. More and more, lay people are also getting involved as missionaries. Some people even say, "Want to see the world? Be a missionary." Many people have the idea or the concept that in order to be a missionary you must go to a foreign country that is poor or desolate or without the bare necessities. 

     As I listened to Father speak about the United States as a mission country, I remembered back to a conversation I had with Sister Eileen in Peru two summers ago. She had been missioned in Chile in a poor school before coming to a higher class school in Peru. She said she missed being with the poor but eventually realized that her students still suffered from poverty. However, it was a poverty of a different kind: a poverty of communication, a poverty of conversation, a poverty of love. Many have said that after working with the poor, "they may have nothing but they still have love." Yet those who have so much do not have love. Our conversation stuck with me because while I would love to move to a different country and do missionary work, I know God needs me here and now. But as Father kept talking, I knew how right he was. The United States is a mission country more than ever, I believe. 

     In Sunday's Gospel Reading we heard from Matthew, "Give back to Caesar what is Caesars and give back to God with is God's." The more I reflected the more I realized that we have been doing it backwards for a very long time. You see, Jesus in this Gospel, is asked, "to whom do we pay the tax?" Basically, "If we can only serve one master, how do we get away with not serving Caesar?" Jesus never said do not pay the tax, do not do your civil duty. He encourages them do that but while doing so to give their lives to God. Caesar did not give life, God did and thus, we must not give our lives to Caesar but rather to God. Make sense? Well let's give Caesar another name...

     Let's rename Caesar "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc." We won't rename God, because God, in Jesus' story was not a metaphor; Caesar was. Again, "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc." does not give us life. God, on the other hand, still gives us life. There are healthy things that can come from technology and social media and thus, we should give a bit more of our time. But more often than not, we give our lives to technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc."and not to God. If we were to live according to Jesus' message, we wouldn't spend so much time trying to connect without really connecting on social media. We wouldn't spend so much time trying to create family time by trying to find the quickest place to eat. We wouldn't try to create peace by independently removing ourselves from situations. But the sad truth of the matter is, too often this is what happens. We are giving too much of our life and time to the distractions of life, we are giving Caesar way too much tax money. 

      Jesus tells the people that they should be giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar. We should be giving a little bit to the positive progressions. But we have confused Caesar with God and God with Caesar. We have focused too much and made gods of the things of Caesar. We need to step back and take a chill pill for a second. We need to re-evaluate the things we have given to Caesar regardless of whether or not it is his. We need to give back to God what belongs to him. Perhaps if we started doing this, the United States wouldn't need missionaries nearly as much. 

     The people of the United States are hungry. But instead of filling up on healthy things like God and spirituality and religion, we are continuously going to McDonald's. I don't want a McDonald's faith. Yes, french fries are good every so often, but if we ate them every day we would be in a bad place. Our country has filled up on the very good tasting hamburgers and chicken nuggets of Caesar and not on the bounty of God. We have given so much of our time to the things that shouldn't run our lives. But we live in a world where text messaging requires instant attention. We have neglected the fact that God doesn't text but still requires our attention. 

    This past Sunday was Mission Sunday in our Archdiocese. We have heard so much about the foreign missions but we have neglected the fact that the United States itself is a mission territory. While I love my travels to South America, I, too, must remember that the American people need God just as much if not more than the foreign places. I see so much need for missionary work and evangelization in our country. I see it in the empty pews, the phones glued to hands of children and adults, the families that go out to eat but do not speak to one another because each person is attempting to connect with the outside world, the violence, the sadness, the poverties of a whole other kind. 

   Believe it or not, we are the missions. While it may seem absurd to think about because we have running water, we have food services, we have technology, we still need love and we still need Jesus. We need to stop giving Caesar way more than is due, we must start giving God what actually belongs to Him - our lives. Give yourself to God, not to "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc." 

#sisterselfies #foundersday2014

selfie:

(n) a photograph that one has taken of oneself; 

typically taken with a smartphone or webcam and shared via social media.

- Oxford Dictionary Online

     It all started back in March during the first weekend in Lent in ice cold, Minnesota. I found myself with my dear Sister Angela, CSFN, at the NCSW (National Catholic Sisters Week) Conference. Maybe you've read my blog post, "Sister Selfie and Her Companions." In my blog post, I wrote all about my weekend at the Conference, how fruitful it was, how many stories I heard and how I became passionate about sharing Sisters' Stories. But I also mentioned my Sister with whom I took way too many selfies. You see, at every event, we took a selfie. We even rubbed off on a few other Sisters and their students by getting them to take selfies. Believe it or not, that was probably one of the most magical things that happened that weekend: nuns taking selfies. 

     When I got back from Minnesota, I was on a high. I wanted to get started on all my idea projects. But alas, I was a second semester Senior in college. To say I was busy was an understatement. I didn't have enough time to work on my Senior thesis let alone take on a full documentary project. While disappointed at my grown-up realization that I did not have the time to take on my desired project, I always kept the concept in the back of my head: "How can I, a lay person and student, get the stories of our religious sisters out there?" I thought about writing a book, I thought about recording stories when I got the chance, I thought about a ton of things. But then my college decided they were going to do a project: Photo Time Capsule. Every day, students could enter pictures of day to day activities. I thought that in the years down the road, when the time capsule is open, a lot of the sisters who were teaching now, probably weren't going to be teaching then. I immediately felt the need to put their pictures in the time capsule. And what better way to get their pictures in there then to take selfies with them. 

     Yes, as the weeks of the project went on, I went up to every sister I could and asked if I could take a selfie with them. Some said no, but most of them agreed. In fact, I got a selfie with almost ever Sister on campus. Those pictures are now hanging all over my office as a gentle reminder that nunnies like to have fun, too. Of course, the selfie game continued long after the time capsule project ended. In fact, I even joked about the selfie game with the girls at work. I said that if anyone could get a selfie with the Mother General, they would win the selfie game. One girl got creative and took a selfie with a picture of the Mother General. But, alas, that did not count. I finally got the motherload of selfies with the Mother General on the day of Baccalaureate Mass, the day before my Graduation. I won...technically I was still a student! 

     Of course, as the Summer began, life got busy and my Sister Selfie project kind of got put on hold. I took a few Sister Selfies but my selfie game wasn't nearly as strong as it used to be. Occasionally, I prayed for a way to promote Sister Stories but alas, I was too busy trying to find a job. When I finally got hired (praise God!!!!!), I was too busy getting acclimated and working to promote Sister Stories. But then I got a facebook notification from the one and only, Molly Hazleton. She had a package to send me and needed my address. A few days later, I opened a box of #sisterselfie pins at work. I was so incredibly excited, I didn't know what to do with myself. But then, I concocted an idea, a plan, an activity of sorts. 

     Every year at the school where I work, they celebrate Founders' Day. This day celebrates the founding of the Sisters of St. Joseph, the community of Sisters who later founded our school in 1858. Our school is a very mission-oriented school and the mission of the Sisters is being passed on through our students. I love this. But as I was sitting at my desk thinking about both Sister Stories and Founders' Day, I thought that unless you work or go/went to this school OR worked with the SSJs, you wouldn't know their story. Of course, I also began to wonder how many Sisters here at our school have stories unknown. Stories about past missions, stories about their vocations, stories about their lives in religious life. Suddenly, the bright, pink, sparkly pins caught me eye as they were sitting on my desk. I knew exactly what we could do. 

      Teenage girls love to take selfies. Heck, I love to take selfies with people. I love making faces, I love capturing the silliest moments all in a selfie and I knew my students certainly love the same. I proposed my idea to the principal and then once I got the okay, proposed it to the sisters. Without hesitation, the Sisters at school took many a selfie with me. I had the administration take some selfies, too, and then I got started on making a video in which we would show the girls the video and how them take selfies during the afternoon's activities. It was a surprise for everyone except the sisters and the administration. I stood up in front of the entire school and pushed play. The laughter and the cheers from everyone was phenomenal. I couldn't help but laugh so hard myself. 

     Of course, after the video, we had to have the girls go to Mass. After Mass, the entire student body was being filmed for commercial to promote the school. The faculty wasn't allowed to be in the video, so as we were all standing around, waiting for the girls to be finished, faculty members started taking out their phones and taking selfies...with the sisters and with each other. I stood by and watched for a few minutes before I got in a few. I couldn't believe what I started. The best part? "How do I tweet this?" 

     The girls finally moved into the afternoon activities and during the all girl dance party they had, students were taking selfies with the Sisters, with faculty members and with each other. It was the cutest and most entertaining thing. The Sisters loved having their picture taken, the girls loved the concept and I loved to watch it all unfold. By the end of the day, I had so many tweets via our campus ministry twitter and emails in my inbox. I cannot even explain how many pictures I now have on my computer of Sister Selfies. Even days later, they pictures are still coming in. I love it. 

     While we didn't make a giant documentary of oral histories of our Sisters on Founders' Day nor did we really write down anything about them, we took their pictures. We immersed the Sisters into the hip teenage culture of social media and allowed the students to welcome the Sisters into their worlds. It allowed for a fun way to get to know the Sisters, especially our President, and it allowed the Sisters to get even more involved in their students' lives. It's a start to sharing our #sisterselfie stories. Maybe we could follow Buzzfeed's lead and do "Tell us about Yourself(ie)" segments on our Sisters. Until then, you can enjoy the video that started it all. Stay tuned for an update on how our #sisterselfie project is coming along. Until then, say cheese! 

"Just" Happy To Be Here

"The most important thing is to enjoy your life

 - to be happy -

it's all that matters."

- Audrey Hepburn

    One of the most rewarding things in this world is checking things off a to-do list. Often at work I make multiple to-do lists: people to call, things to put away, emails to send, documents to type, etc. Nothing makes me happier than crossing things off that list, unless, of course, I finally get to the end of the list and can crumple the paper to recycle it. Last week was full of to-do lists in preparation for Freshmen Retreat. At the end of retreat, I took a deep breath, sat in my chair and said, "kudos, kid. Another event under your wing."

     This week provided lots of time for reflection on retreat. Did it go well? What can we change for next year? How much of the same schedule do we keep? etc. Lots and lots of reflection on the retreat. However, those weren't the only things I found myself reflecting upon. One thing in particular was what one student said during a Q&A in the middle of the day. After we asked the students if there was anything they wanted to share with the group, one student raised her hand in the back of the auditorium and said, "I'm just happy to be here." It made me smile and I've been thinking about her comment ever since. 

     I thought about it in regards to the actual retreat. How many students would have volunteered (if only they had that option....) to go on retreat at 8:00 in the morning? Not many, I'm sure. However, they were "getting out of class" and even had free time to be with their friends after the retreat. And yes, there were probably quite a few in the group of 125 who didn't want to be there. But there was one student who was "happy to be here" and that was all I needed to hear. If I only reached one student, that's all I needed; that's all that God was calling me to that day and I was ok with that. But my reflection began to go deeper than that. 

     I thought about what would happen in my own life if I started saying that to things I attended...like meetings or school or even long car rides. What if, regardless of what I was actually feeling, I said, "I'm just happy to be here." Would it make my disposition concerning the event better? Would I be more able to "grin and bear it" for things that I might not really want to attend? Would it be even more transformative and make me actually be able to say, "I am EXCITED for this meeting?" Hmm...maybe not as drastic as that, but maybe, just maybe it would allow me to be more positive about the experiences. 

     As I continued to think about what that one student said, I thought, hmm...what if when I woke up, instead of yelling at the alarm clock or hitting the snooze button, I opened my eyes and said, "You know, I'm just happy to be here." Of course, that's not difficult at the end of the day...getting in bed and saying, "OH I AM SO HAPPY TO BE HERE." In fact, all the words might not make it out of my mouth before my head hit the pillow and I fell asleep. But if I woke up like that, would my day be better? In order to be able to say that would I have to have a scene straight out of Cinderella or Snow White with the singing birds and the happy sunshine and the singing and the music and the unrealistic morning happiness? Or am I actually able to wake up (maybe after hitting snooze a few times) and say, "I am just happy to be here....happy to be alive." 

    I remember a few years ago making a conscious effort to wake up and express gratitude for another day alive. I do often say, especially on my worst days, "Well...it's a good day because I'm alive another day." I used to reflect so deeply on those first conscious breaths of the morning. How much does God love me that He, yet again, gave me the air in my lungs and another day of life?! But for some reason or another, I stopped with that conscious effort. Perhaps it was because it became too much a part of my routine, I got too busy, I don't know. But it suddenly was brought back to my mind with this one student's comment. 

    My reflection continued as I gave myself a deep look in the mirror the other morning. Usually is almost dark in my room when I get up, but the other day I was blessed to wake up after the sun. This made my room a bit brighter and so I was able to read a message I had written on the mirror way back in high school. It read, "Bec, have you talked to God yet?" I remember someone seeing it years ago and commenting on how funny it sounded. It was as if I needed to set up an appointment with God and hadn't contacted Him yet. But really I had written it as a daily reminder that I need to talk with God every day. I can't just go about my day treating Him like a secretary and asking Him for favors every time I need something. I probably wouldn't have caught the phrase on my mirror if it hadn't been for that one student's comment. 

      So today, I'm sitting here thinking, "Am I happy to be here yet?" It's Friday. Of course I'm happy to be here. But there was something different about my morning. I might chalk it up to having fresh coffee this morning, but I think, honestly, it was because the first thing I said this morning was "Five more minutes....I'm happy to be here today." I felt like I was bouncing into school today. I felt on top of the world today. I felt like I go about my day wishing everyone a VERY HAPPY FRIDAY. So...I have been. I'm happy to be here today. I'm happy to be at work. I'm happy to be with my co-workers. I'm happy to be on this earth. I'm happy that God blessed me with another day of life and breath. God is so good. 

    So maybe tomorrow when you wake up you can say, "I'm just happy to be here." Or maybe right now, think about if you are happy to be here wherever here may be for you. Maybe it might change your Debbie Downer mood to a slightly happier one....maybe just maybe. So try it out...maybe every day can be the best day of your life.

    

Dare to Love and Be Loved

"Dare to be strong and courageous. 

That is the road. Venture anything.

Be brave enough to dare to be loved."

- Sherwood Anderson, "Winesburg, OH"

Shouldn't I be a hand model?

     Driving to work long before the sun was up, the readings of the day were the farthest thing from my thoughts. I was sipping my piping hot coffee from my new travel mug and worrying about whether or not I would have enough dollar bills in the cup holder for the toll. Being the prepared woman I am, of course I had enough toll money set out. Once past through the toll booth, I began thinking about all the preparations I needed to make for today's Communion Service at school. It was only going to be the third one, but I was feeling pretty confident that everything would go smoothly. When I got to school, I opened my iBreviary app and quickly glanced at the readings. Today? The very well known reading from Corinthians "Love is patient...etc. etc. etc." I quickly thought, oh good, easy, and then didn't give it a second thought. 

     If you're a typical young woman between the ages of 14-25, you might be slightly obsessed with Nicholas Sparks' "A Walk to Remember." I remember watching it for the first time in high school and then quite possibly almost damaging the DVD I borrowed from the library due to over watching the movie. I remember sobbing every time I heard Mandy Moore sing, beg Shane West not to fall in love with her, and walk down the aisle. I loved the movie and every so often, when I need a good cry, I admittedly pull out the movie and watch it alone in my bedroom so I can sob into the pillow again. Of course, the movie was also far from my mind as I drove into work this morning, but the moment the student reading at the Communion Service began to read from St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians, I could hear Shane West's voice in my head reading the same passage to Mandy Moore as she lay sick in the hospital. Suddenly, I was equating Scripture to Nicholas Sparks...again. However childish it may have seemed at the moment, suddenly my view on this verse started to change.

     Shortly after our Communion Service, the bell rang signaling the beginning of the school day. I walked out to the hallway to hear the announcements and say prayers with the community. As part of the morning reflection, I heard the announcer say, "Love isn't easy." That's when I had my AHHHHH moment. How many times have I reflected on love and not given Corinthians a thought? How many times have I heard Corinthians read and not given the hardships of love a thought? How many times have I missed the boat on realized what St. Paul was really trying to say? Oh so many times. 

     St. Paul tells us that love is patient, love is kind, love does not boast. We have all heard it a million times. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and ENDURES all things. I have reflected many times on how I've loved, because at the end of earthen life, we shall be judged on how much we have loved. I often ask myself, did I love enough in that situation? or what could I have done to love more? Many people say that I love everyone, I love life passionately and through my gentleness, I show so much love for people and God. Yet often, I say I can love more. I know I can, because God can love limitlessly. If He can do that, and if we are meant to love like Him, why do I put limits on my love? Why do I, when I'm already dressed for bed, say I can no longer help my sister with her homework? Why do I, when I'm running late for school, say I can not stop and turn the coffee machine on, when it would only take thirty seconds? Why do I, when I'm in the middle of typing something at school, not immediately turn around when a student enters the office? Why do I not love more? Why do I, when things get rough, decide to run from love, instead of run toward it? St. Paul tells us that it is during the rough times that love is needed most. When things are fine and dandy, love is easy. When things are rough, love is difficult. We run toward easy and away from difficult. It's part of being human. Yet, we must love more. 

      There is a flip side to loving, however, and that is being loved. Loving, most days, comes easy for me. Although I do wonder if there are ways I can love more, love through pain, love through hurt, love through difficulty, I know that when compared to being loved, loving is easier. Yesterday, I found the above quoted quotation. Our principal started the year off by telling all the students and parents that we each needed only 20 seconds of insane courage to do something great. I started to joke that I had heard the speech a few times and that I now had more than 20 seconds of insane courage...I had about a minute and a half. All joking aside, however, the word courage has been my anthem lately and when I saw the quotation, I knew it was one that would stick with me. "Dare to be courageous...be brave enough to dare to be loved." That was my message. It was reminded that I can only love as much as I am loved. The tank of love can only be emptied with it is filled. I thought of that this morning when I heard, "love endures all things."

       I began to think of a very close friend of mine who for the duration of this blog will be referred to as "the other JC." Many have heard me call Jesus, JC. He is "the other JC;" my Jesus in action. I have long believed myself to be tough, not soft. I have long believed that because of my life's experiences that I have grown to be so tough that I would not need anyone to break down my walls. For a very long time, loving and being loved was controlled by my terms. I could love as much as I wanted and accept love as much as I wanted, but as far I was concerned, I didn't need much being loved. If no one liked me, I would survive. God was the only one I needed to love me. Needless to say, I was wrong. 

       As human beings, we were made to love AND TO BE LOVED. I have often said this, but I have never wrote about my journey to reaching this realization. I am one of many "toughies." We are the group that if anyone shows affection or care, we stray away from it. We are haunted by the thoughts, I don't need to be loved by others, I don't deserve to be loved by others, why would anyone love me, anyway? Chances are each of us, at one point in life, have had these thoughts. If you're like me, you essentially built up a wall that said, "I do not need being loved because I am not courageous enough to dare to be loved." For a very long time, I believed all of these things. Yes, believe it or not, I wore a huge "tough girl" shield over my heart. That was until "the other JC" and a few others stepped into my life. 

      What "the other JC" did for me was take a wrecking ball (not in the style of Miley Cyrus) to that wall I had built around my heart. He started by the little compliments that would make any woman swoon: You're beautiful...in your pjs, without makeup, on your worst day, on your best day, in that dress, with your hair all done up. However, I was one who did not believe this about myself and so I scoffed at him. I truly thought he was only saying these things to get my attention. Well sisters, he was not getting it. But he continued. Every so often, I'd find a morning note on my windshield just saying hi, or a note under my door when I got home from student teaching. When I was upset, he would remind me that he was there if I needed, but allowed me to come to the need to be loved on my own terms. He didn't take the wrecking ball to my wall right away, but instead started chipping away at my wall piece by piece. 

       The year went on and slowly but surely, things got rougher for me. I didn't want him to love me. I didn't want anyone to love me. I didn't need it. I was tough enough without it. My fighting his love was actually a fight against myself...I was fighting to very human desire to be loved by another person. I was fighting the very human need for another to care about me. For so long I believed that I was tough enough to love and be loved on my own terms. However, I soon realized that there was a greater force in this experience. It was a reminder from God that I indeed needed to be loved. 

      "The other JC" put the love that St. Paul speaks about into action. He was patient with me, he was kind. He wasn't in it for his own interests, he only wanted the best for me. He never believed that loving me was going to end badly for him, loving me could only yield good. He endured everything I went through with me; he held onto hope. He was a living example of what I needed to do with my own life. I needed to maybe be a bit more kind and patient with those around me. I needed to look out for others and not myself. But mostly, I needed to love by enduring all things. I needed to take a look at how I was loving others and not give up on them; I needed to hold onto hope. "The other JC" has taught me an awful love about the love of Christ; he is so good for me. He is a daily reminded that I have been made to love and be loved. 

      Sometimes I look at the people I love so dearly and see my personality of being too tough to need to be loved. I want to say so strongly, "Just let me love you. Just let down your guard and let me love you like Christ loves. Let me help you carry the burdens of life." But sometimes I give up when they are tougher than I am...or seemingly so. I need to remember what "the other JC" teaches me: love endures all things. I have been courageous enough to love within my own limits. Now that I have dared to be loved, I need to be courageous enough to love even more. I need to be brave enough, patient enough, kind enough to love beyond all measures. Love isn't easy. It's not what the fairy tales convince us it is. Love is difficult, it is enduring, it is persisting through the toughest times, plowing through the toughest walls. Love is tears and smiles, hardships and bliss. Love is saying, "I love you enough to continue loving you even though you think you don't need it, don't deserve it, don't believe in it's possibility." Love is saying to every excuse another may come up with, "I love you more than that." Do you know how difficult that is?

     It took me a while; there were lots of growing pains. Maybe it was those 90 seconds of insane courage I collected over the course of the first week of school? Maybe it was the sudden reminder of my favorite hopelessly romantic movie of my teenage years? But probably it was the example of "Love in Action" given to me by "the other JC." It was as if we had entered a game of truth or dare and given that I'm a tough girl, I chose dare. But "the other JC" didn't dare me to go swimming in a pool with all my clothes on or filled with ice so as to dramatically drop the temperature. Oh no, his dare was much worse. He had dared me to love and be loved. And now, it's my turn to dare you. 

   

Pray for Surf

"Life is a lot like surfing.

When you get caught in the impact zone, 

you've got to just get back up.

Because you never know what might be

over the next wave."

- Bethany Hamilton

     It was a spur of the moment, mid-week decision: I was going to accompany three of my good friends to the Surfing Contest in Stone Harbor at Nun's Beach. I had originally planned on staying home and catching up on some sleep since it was a crazy first full week of school, but the girls convinced me otherwise. Besides who doesn't need a trip to the beach every so often, even when it's no longer Summer beach weather. Before I knew it we were all set and ready to leave Immaculata at the crack of dawn to make the two hour trek down to the beach. After a stop at Wawa for some breakfast and coffee, we were on our way. 

    Of course, some of you reading this might be saying, "I didn't know she surfed." Well folks, sorry to disappoint, but I do not surf. So why were we going to the surf contest? Well to steal a look or two at some surfer boys, of course. No, I'm just kidding. Actually, we had been recruited by my dear Sister Elaine to go and help the Sisters run the show. The Nun's Beach Surf Contest is an annual fundraiser for the Sisters of the IHM's Retreat House, Villa-Maria-by-the-Sea. For a few years in a row, the four of us had gone down in the Spring to help clean up the retreat house for the beginning of the retreat season. We only thought it fair to volunteer for the end of the retreat season fundraiser. Besides, this is my potential future beach house we are talking about. 

     We pulled into Stone Harbor about 9:30 (we missed the turn for 55 which set us back a bit) and headed straight to the kitchen. After a quick hello and a selfie with Sister Bern, we were ready for the food tent. The morning was full of cookies, brownies, coffee, laughter and inquiries about the famous chili and pizza. Of course, that was our shared morning. My personal morning consisted of believing a false tale of seagull brownie snatchers, watching the Hot Chocolate queen make the "secret recipe," and snapping photos of cute surfer boys (8 year olds with surfer hair just melt my heart) and my favorite nunnies. Over the course of the day, I had my life planned out for me by Sister Elaine, we wrote a rap, and we even did some dancing. I'll admit, I didn't see much of the surf contest, but I didn't complain. I got to spend the day outside with my favorite ladies who didn't judge me for my insane ocean-wind hair. 

     We were so blessed to have the rain hold off while we were outside. As we cleaned up the food tent (and all the extra hot dogs...I have never seen so many in my life), the drizzle drops started to come down. But, we made it inside before it down-poured, praise God. We had about an hour of downtime before dinner and the next event, so the four of us headed out to the front porch. Some of us took a nap...ahem...while others enjoyed some small talk. Of course, the sleeping princess (I do look like one if I don't say so myself), was awakened from her nap for dinner. It was then that I found myself among even more friends. 

     I have to admit that I didn't know a lot of the Sisters working the day's events before I got there, but I certainly left with a few more friends (on Facebook). I found myself eating dinner around a little island in the kitchen with some old acquaintances who quickly became good friends. I admittedly always laugh the hardest when I'm with the Sisters. Whether it's a Sister who I just met or someone I've known for years, usually at some point in a conversation, I have tears in my eyes from laughter. I re-met Sister Judy, became facebook friends with Sister Amadeo, and of course, sang our rap for Sister Elaine. It was like being among family, simply eating around the island with the girls. 

      The past two weeks have been an emotional roller coaster, as any might suspect. I started my new job, I've made lots of transitions, I've had to adjust my spiritual life to make time for adult life...it's a roller coaster. At one point last week, I cried bitterly on the way home simply because I missed "my girls in blue." It's different from missing my friends. If I'm missing one of them, I can easily shoot them a text or call them and they'll more than likely answer. With the Sisters, it's not so easy. They all have different schedules and texting isn't always easy. I was so used to seeing them every single day at Mass, getting at least fifty hugs a day from them, and enjoying a friendly banter with the older Sisters. They were more than just religious to me, they became my Sisters, "my girls." Not seeing them every day now is hard for me and I miss them more than words can express. Spending the day at the beach with some of my original group of nunnies and adding a few more to the "my girls" category was exactly what I needed. 

       I needed the laughter of tears rolling down my cheeks, I needed an insane amount of moments to embarrass myself by being freely, I needed the companionship of "my girls," heck, I'll even admit to needing all the hugs and love. I can't tell you how many goofy pictures we took with the girls, how many insane moments we shared, how many beautiful conversations happened over cranberry sauce, washing dishes and horse-racing. The truth is, these lovely women of God made it so easy for me to forget that I had ever felt like a piece of me was missing from being away from the ladies in blue for so long. I know I am so insanely blessed to have so many women with whom I share a companionship. From mentors to friends to partners in crime, these are "my girls." I found it absolutely amazing that I now share a deeper friendship with many of the Sisters who I just met. It's a wonder how friendships can be established over only a course of a few hours. I am feeling so blessed.

       Our night didn't end with dinner, of course. The four of us girls found ourselves helping prep dinner, wash dishes and even clean up. The second part of the fundraiser is a dinner and raffle night for many patrons of the retreat house. While many of the Sisters were out on the floor serving dinner, the girls were back in the kitchen helping things go as smoothly as possible. We weren't only on kitchen duty though, we had to introduce our beloved teacher, Sister Elaine, for her role in the horse race. Yes, that rap we wrote earlier in the day was making a come back that night. Everyone enjoyed it. Of course, with a line like "she went on one small date and her ma got scared, she said, you're moving to the convent in malvern, pa," how could you not like it. A good time was honestly had by all. 

      As we drove back to school that night, I couldn't help but thank God for all my blessing that I had received that day. It simply proved my belief that the more you give of yourself, the more blessings you receive. I simply gave my two hands and volunteered for the Sisters at the Surf Contest. What I got in return was a ay full of laughter, good times, good food and many new friendships. I had been missing the feeling of belonging, the feeling of family, and the ladies in blue, my girls, gave it back to me. Of course, there was a small fee for some: one selfie, please. Next year, I hope to be finding myself praying for surf once again with my girls at Nun's Beach.

Run So As To Win

"Therefore, I run in such a way, as not without aim;

I box in such a way, as not beating the air.

but I discipline my body and make it my slave, 

so that, after I have preached to others, 

I myself will not be disqualified."

- 1 Corinthians 9:26-27

    

    As many of you know, recently I started a new endeavor in my life: working as a Campus Minister at a local high school. It has been a whirlwind of adventures from planning Community Service events, to meeting with students, faculty and administration alike, to ordering various this for the school to especially planning our first BIG official Liturgy...that was today. 

     For the past week, I've been reading through various Scripture readings, asking for volunteers to help at Mass, picking and then practicing music with the Liturgy Singers, and so much more. It seemed that every time I thought I was finished planning, something else would come up. You know how it is, every time you sit down to catch your breath, you're off and running again. Well, finally sometime earlier this week, I found I was ready to go for today. That's when I sat down to write my before Mass reflection. 

     The Scripture readings for today were excellent. I did not even hesitate to use different readings other than the ones set for the day. The first reading was St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians which I have quoted above. It has been one of my most favorite Scripture passages for a very long time and last year, when I was asked to think about a theme for the beginning of a school year for my students for an Education class, I immediately resorted to that passage. I had dreams of my students reflecting often on the needs for preparing oneself to run in a race. I had dreams of running with them hypothetically. I had dreams of even wearing sneakers on the first day of class just to say, "We are now running to win." I may have even dreamed of my students eventually nicknaming me coach. I know, I was dreaming big. Yet, God, as He is so amazing, answered another one of my prayers - He allowed my dreams to come true. 

     This morning I stood before the entire student body, the entire faculty, staff and administration as well as some parents who were present for the Student Council Induction. Little me in front of hundreds of people of all ages. But was I nervous? No, actually. I remembered what Sister Cathy had said to me about this time last year: It's okay to be nervous, to have butterflies, so long as all the butterflies are in the right place. So, after sharing that with a few of those who were assisting in the Mass, I got up behind the Lectern and began. Here is my reflection:

     "During my first week at Mount St. Joseph Academy, I heard some hustling and bustling in the hallway. It was still summertime and so, I was confused as to who might be making all the noise. As I walked out of my office, I found an entire team of girls laying on the hallway floor doing some type of exercise. After introducing myself and inquiring about which team was lying before me, I enlightened the team on my recent endeavor to get in shape by running. It was then that the Cross Country team invited me to run with them. I couldn’t help but think that their invitation was the most perfect way for me to start off the new year.

     Today we hear in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians to “run so as to win.” St. Paul invites us, just as the cross country team invited me, to drive and train our bodies, our spiritual, emotional and physical bodies, so that in the end we may achieve the greatness that is Heaven. We must train our brains so as to achieve in the classroom, train our bodies to achieve on the field or court, train our voices to achieve on the stage, train our brush strokes to achieve on the canvas. We must train our spirits by prayer to achieve holiness. St Paul also cautions against running aimlessly; we must run with purpose, with drive. We cannot run if we do have a destination. May your destination be Heaven. Of course, a final aspect is that we must run together as a team, striving to be instruments of unity and reconciliation.

     Students, Faculty and Administration alike, I encourage you to take up the invitation from the Cross Country team. Set your hearts, minds and souls on Jesus and run; run so as to win."

      As I spoke, I could sincerely feel the Holy Spirit within and around me. Oh how beautiful a feeling. I walked to the back of the auditorium and felt the eyes of many students and teachers upon me. I was greeted in the back by the President who graciously gave me a thumbs up. I thanked God and let the rest of the Mass take place. I thought I wasn't in for any surprises, but alas, God always has something up His sleeve.

      When it came time for the Homily, Father asked the entire Cross Country team to stand up. I started laughing. The girls hesitated at first but eventually, girls all over the auditorium stood up. Father than asked the captain of the team to join him on the apron of the auditorium. She, again, hesitated, but went. Father asked her a few questions about what it took to train and practice for Cross Country. He then asked her why she invited me to run with the team. She answered by saying that I was new and they wanted to welcome me. Of course, Father then asked if I had been out to practice with them. When she said no, I had to laugh. It was true. You can bet your bottom dollar that the next thing I will be doing after I finish this post is emailing the coach and asking for a practice schedule! I need to go at least once with them! 

       Our Liturgy went beautifully and throughout the day I have been congratulated on a beautiful first Liturgy. I am so grateful for the amazing faculty, staff and administration who has continued to support me since day one. I am so grateful for my students who have been nothing but helpful. Oh how amazing they are. And of course, how grateful I am to my God for giving me my dream come true: standing before my students, my colleagues, and my students' parents asking them to run with me and with Jesus. It is truly amazing that I got to preach my desire to run for God's Cross Country team. 

      I will keep running so as to win, to attain holiness. Of course, I might also be caught running with the Cross Country team. So, if you happen to see me after school one day with my sneakers on underneath my skirt, don't judge. I've just been running with my students.