(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.