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. 

I AM WOMAN

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.

I am a free human being with an independent will."

- Charlotte Bronte, "Jane Eyre"

       I had a teacher in college that whenever talking about feminism, he would always say, "I AM WOMAN," in a deep voice, proclaiming in his own way, the strength of the woman. I would always laugh and think, well real ladies would never use a deep manly voice. She would use her dainty, lady voice and say, "Well yes, sir, I do appear to be a bit stronger than you." Today, on my adventure with my best friend, I could not stop thinking about Mr. Mooney saying, "I AM WOMAN." In fact, I may have even said it a few times myself. If there's anything that feels mighty liberating as a woman, it's being able to lift two kayaks out of the water and into a truck that I just backed down the ramp. Say what? Yes, I did that.

     I've been reading a book titled, "Rose Under Fire." This book is a companion book to another book I just finished, "Code Name Verity." Both are written by Elizabeth Wein and both are historical fiction. Now, a little bit of a back story for you before I continue. As a kid, I always loved reading historical fiction books, especially books that showcased young women as the main character. I don't know if you ever heard of the Dear America series, but I thrived on those. Each were a diary form book written by a young girl during a historical time period. Now, flash forward to present day me searching in the book store for a casual Young Adult Literature book to read on vacation. As Sister Marcille taught me, I went after the book that had the Printz Award label on the front. Turns out, it was a historical fiction book. I knew I would love it, so I bought the companion book, too. I just started the second book Thursday...I'm almost done. 

     When I first picked up the books, I thought, oh good, another historical fiction during the WWII time era; one I personally love studying. As I got started, however, I realized I was reading about quite a few hipster ladies. By that, I mean, young women who were breaking stereotypes left and right by doing amazing things. One was a Special Orders Pilot...imagine, a woman pilot, especially during that time period. Of course, her best friend was a spy and interrogator. I fell in love with the characters who not only stayed true to the characterization of women at the time, but also were insanely feminist and willing to go above and beyond what women normally did. The second book also features a female pilot and describes at length the women concentration camp that still to this day doesn't have too much written about it. It describes in insane detail the strength of thousands of women. I felt as if these women were my comrades, my fellow strong women. Of course, there was one scene that struck me in particular that I felt extremely connected with. 

     The scene takes place toward the beginning of the story when Rose, the female pilot, gets trapped between two German fighter planes. She eventually is requested to follow the fighter planes to a German airfield; she has become a POW in the air. When she lands the plane and is asked to remove herself from the aircraft, she steps out of the pilots seat, but still has her helmet on. They order her to take her helmet off and a stream of curly brown hair falls out from underneath. The men's mouths gape open and suddenly they are saluting her and clapping for her; she fielded an excellent landing. Of course, there is much irony in this scene. The young woman, first of all is a POW and an American one at that. These mean saluting her were German airmen. At first I thought, well good for her to get such a response to landing that plane. But then I thought, if it had been a man pilot, they wouldn't have done that. What made her landing so special other than the fact that she was a woman pilot?! Nothing. As absurd as it was, the scene struck accord with me.

      You see, so often I am mistaken for a weak person. People always offer to help me carry things and stuff like that. Sometimes I think it's because I am little; a whopping five foot. But other times, I think it's probably because I am a woman. Today, like I said before, my best friend and I went kayaking in the river. Imagine the scene: two young women riding high in a Ford pick-up truck with two kayaks in the bed. First of all, a little lady is driving the truck. Second of all, she's going to have to get those kayaks out of the back of the truck. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could already see the crowd of men staring at me. Yes, boys, I had just hopped out of the cab of this truck. Now, look away. I knew they were anxiously waiting to see how I would approach getting the kayaks out of the bed of the truck. Shocking to admit, but I did it with no problem. Of course, my best friend was there to get her kayak out of the bed of the truck, too. What a sight to behold, two ladies carrying kayaks down the river. 

     I started to laugh at the absurdity. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal that we had just done that. However, the end of the craziness was no where in sight. As we were pulling the kayaks down the river to put in a bit further away from all the mud, an older gentleman stopped us. He asked if I had ever put in there before. I answered yes. He then told me that I should be careful because the tide was changing soon. Shocking, but I knew this to be true. Of course, he mentioned a few more river facts, all of which I knew. And as I nodded my head, he seemed to get more and more shocked. I wasn't sure why actually, but later it hit me. I'm a lady. He was a kind man, but he definitely thought we had no idea what we were doing. I thanked him for his conversation and we were on our merry way. 

     We enjoyed a paddle down stream and soon decided to head back. There were a lot of boats and jetskis out enjoying the Summer's last hoorah and so we often had to stop and change direction so we didn't tip. As we headed back, the river current got rougher and rougher and it was getting harder and harder to paddle back. Going against the current is the worst BUT it does build muscle mass. It was difficult but we continued. Suddenly, Mary Kate noticed some "fog" up ahead. Ironically, however, it wasn't fog, it was a downpour. We paddled for cover (because the last thing you want is a kayak filled with rain water) and took refuge under some kind peoples' dock. We made a video and then decided to head back out. We were only about half a mile away from where we put in. 

     The rain ceased as we paddled and the river current was much calmer, thus, easier for us to paddle. The boat ramp was in sight and the tide was coming in, so there would be much less mud to plow through. Of course, as we neared the boat ramp, another downpour. We laughed and this time, kept going. We were so close. We decided to take pictures, too, when we landed, because it was, after all, a monumental moment. There was one guy fishing who was enjoying the moment by laughing at us, but that soon changed when we hauled the kayaks up the ramp a bit. You see, it appeared that I was going to leave them there. But that was not the case. 

     I ran, still in the rain, to the truck, hopped up in the cab and reversed so I could turn around. Then I backed the truck down the ramp so that the two of use could swing the kayaks in the back and head home. We actually gained the attention of many as we did this quickly and efficiently. I smiled and laughed. As we drove home, I said, "Nothing is more liberating to me than being able to do things that people think women can't do...like handle her own kayak and drive a truck." My best friend just laughed.

     I am a feminist and often, I find it hilarious that women are always underestimated. Yes, I believe that there is such a feministic beauty in being genuine, caring, motherly, gentle. Those are the characteristics that make me a woman. But what also makes me a woman is my strength, both emotional and physical. To put things in perspective...my kayak weighs about 60 pounds. That's about the size of a toddler. Both of these facts enhances my feminism. As a woman, I may be expected to take care of children, babies and toddlers. I may be expected to pick them up and coo over them. Don't get me wrong, I loooooooove doing that. I love children and child-rearing is an amazing beauty all in it's own. But, if my toddler weighs 60 pounds, then why, when I pick up a kayak weighing about the same, is it a shock to everyone around. People, get a grip, I want to say. I don't, of course, because I'm a lady. I simply smile and behind my smile, I say, "Now, let me see you do that."

     I felt proud to be a lady today. Every day, I proud to be a woman, but today I felt especially proud. It wasn't that I already knew the things that our older man friend was telling us about the river. No, it wasn't because my Daddy had already taught me these things. And it wasn't that I got to drive Daddy's truck either (seriously...I NEED one of my own though). I learned to drive in that monster, so that was just taking the truck for a spin. And it actually wasn't the fact that my best friend and I paddled against the current in the pouring rain. That was just fun. What made me super proud was that all those strong men who were shocked when a lady hopped out of the cab of a pick-up truck and watched me as I lifted the kayaks out of the bed with ease, didn't offer an ounce of help. Now while that might make a few people upset (how dare they not help a damsel in distress), I enjoyed it. Why? Because they watched, they were shocked and they didn't offer help, because they knew I could do it. 

     I'm not always a radical feminist, but when I am, I lift kayaks out of trucks and paddle against the current in the pouring rain. Now I can't wait to see people's reactions when I do that as a nun. In the words of Mr. Mooney, "I AM WOMAN."