Just As Planned (by God)

"Well done, good and faithful servant. 

Come, share in the joy of your master."

- Matthew 25:21

    I do not believe in coincidences or irony; I believe in God-winks. I believe God has such a grander plan, beyond our human understanding, and that He will seemingly make it all work out right. For example, last week when I went to visit Sister Elaine and in my heart's deepest desires, I was longing for the opportunity to pray with my Sisters again. It was all in God's plan that I would wind up sitting there in my favorite Chapel, trying not to giggle my way through prayers with my Sisters and soon after join them for dinner. God's plan. 

     But sometimes our plan doesn't always match up with God's plan. You see my plan was to visit a few of my Sisters after observing at a high school near my college on a professional development day for the school at which I now teach. My plan was to go finally meet my dear Sister Marian, check in with my dear Sister Cathy, and visit a bit with Sister Jane, who they told me was not doing well. That was my plan, to see my girls. But God had a different plan. 

     On Friday, January 16, 2015, God called Sister Jane home. The email announcing her passing went out a few days later and I instantly started crying. I had planned to see her only a few days later, one week exactly after Sister Elaine told me that she was sick. But God had a different plan. Of course, I knew that. I couldn't be upset about God's plan being different than mine because I would live my whole life miserable if I did that. But I did mourn the loss of a dear friend, my dear Sister. 

     As I laid in bed that night, memories of my dear Sister played through my mind like a movie. Sister Jane sat in the pew ahead of me for all four years of my time at Immaculata. A pew ahead and then to the right. She had the middle seat. Every so often, she'd pass me a note before prayers on a yellow sticky, written in perfect cursive pencil. I'm pretty sure I still have the one from one particular snowy day Sophomore year when I showed up very early for Mass. Well, it wouldn't have been early if prayers weren't in silent, but they were and I didn't get the memo. She slipped in gently behind her, then turned to me as I took it, smiled gently and continued her rosary. 

      Every morning we celebrated Mass in the Gillet Convent Chapel, during the sign of peace, she would turn around, shake hands with everyone else and wait for me. When she shook my hand, she always wrapped both her hands around mine, smiled and tilted her head a bit to the right. Every day. Sometimes she would wave over her shoulder when I knelt down behind her. And on Sunday mornings, when she was there for Mass, she would wait until I was walking out of Mass just so she could thank me for singing. In all her gentle ways, she was gracious and prayerful. 

      Of course, there are so many more memories. I can't say how many times she introduced me to all her friends in the cafeteria. She definitely had a lot of friends, who liked ice cream and meeting students. She was a popular lady. I also can't say how many times she cured me of random illnesses. "Sister, I feel nauseous every morning." "Drink water. Eat peanut butter crackers." The next day, I'd be handed a bag of peanut butter crackers. Cured. She always cared so much and would do everything in her power to help a girl (or guy) out. It was those little day to day interactions with her that were always my favorite memories. Her smile. Her gentleness. Her all around beauty. 

     My favorite solo memory though? Well, let me preface this with some basic information. I went to an all girls' high school. By October of my Freshmen year of college, Sister Jane had asked me if I had ever thought of religious life. So, she knew about my high school background and that I was thinking of being a Sister. She had also cured me of two mysterious illnesses. I had apparently been sitting in the cafeteria at a random table surrounded by young men...boys. I didn't think anything of it. However, later, as I was walking across campus, Sister Jane stopped me. She asked me if I was feeling under the weather at all and when I asked why, she responded with the following: Well, I saw you sitting with the boys and I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I giggled a little and told her about my wholesome, Catholic young boy friends. She gave my hands a squeeze and promised to keep praying for me. 

      I can honestly say that my plan wasn't to fall in love with the Sisters at school or even become good friends with any of them. But God had a different plan and put each Sister into my life in a different way. Sister Jane was a gentle soul who was always looking out for me in little, gentle ways. Her gentle smile could be seen from across campus as I raced to catch up with her or down the hallway from my education classes. Her gentle hands always held mine every time we met. She was a hand-holder like me. She gave great hugs and I knew I could always count on her putting me on the right page if I was lost during Morning Prayers. Sister Jane could be seen coming off the Lourdes elevator and going on some adventure with all of her friends or simply to the convent. Whatever she did, wherever she went, she was gentle. She was, perhaps, one of the most gentle people I have ever met. 

      I hadn't planned to go into Camilla, hug all my Sisters, and cry right away. But I did. Of course, I also didn't plan to find one Sister and kind of dog follow her throughout the viewing. But God planned it perfectly that when I walked through the doors, Sister Mary walked out right in front of me. And she took me into the room where I received many hugs from many of my Sisters. During the Funeral, I was sitting by myself, praying that I'd be able to cry in the comfort of a Sisters presence, and God's plan was that Sister Monica would find me soon after I whispered that prayer. And as I knelt there in prayer, I realized that two years ago prior, we were mourning the loss of another dear sister of mine, Sister Albert. I don't believe in coincidence or irony, but I believe in God's divine plan. I could imagine Sister Marie Albert welcoming Sister Jane home - Sisters. 

     Throughout Mass, I had a steady flow of tears running down my cheeks. Once again realizing that my friends are significantly older than me and this was not a new experience, nor an experience that would expire soon. I mourned in a different way than I'm sure my Sisters did because Sister Jane was someone different for me than she was for them. But Sister Trin said something that truly made me feel still parted of the extended IHM family: "It just wouldn't be right if you weren't here." It was a reminder that I was allowed to cry and to mourn the loss of my friend, my sister. 

     I kept thinking about what Sister Trin said throughout Mass. I kept thinking about home is always where my Sisters are. I kept thinking of all the perfect little moments Sister Jane and I shared. I kept thinking of how I felt so much sadness for not being able to see my Sister and hug her one more time. I was upset that my plans didn't work. But slowly, as I kept reflecting, I realized that I did get to see Sister Jane on the day I planned...just in a very different way. It was at this moment of realization that I looked up the ceiling of Camilla's Chapel. There was one single tile missing. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I laughed thinking about a song I heard on the radio when I was a child. It's called, "Hole in the Floor of Heaven." Okay, so it wasn't a hole in the floor of heaven, but for me it was. It was a reminder that as much of my life that I didn't plan, God's plan has always triumphed. Yes, as much as my type A personality will hate to admit, God's plan is always better. Sister Jane will always be with me, another guarding angel up in Heaven for me. My plan isn't always the best plan, or the right plan, but God's plan is. I may not always agree, but if I surrender to God's will, I know everything God wants for me, will happen. I got to see my Sister just as planned.  

     My dearest Sister Jane, thank you for every gift of your smiles, your love, your gentleness. I am so blessed to have had you in my life. Ready the way for a homecoming when we meet again (I'll bring the ice cream.). 

A Stable Presence

"Remember, the storm is a good opportunity

for the pine and the cypress to show their strength

and stability."

- Ho Chi Minh

   As Christians, we have often heard the phrases, "there was no room in the Inn," and "born in a stable." If you ask any grade school student they would tell you that Joseph and Mary searched and searched for a place to stay, but there was no vacancy anywhere (okay, they might not use the word vacancy...). This isn't something that we don't know. It's a part of us. Some may give the following interpretation. Maybe you have heard it. 

     The Inns were crowded, much like our hearts. There was no room in the Inns and no room in the hearts of the people for a Savior. Our hearts are so often crowded with the wrong things and much like today, many turned away the Holy Family. They wanted nothing to do with these two poor, young people about to give birth. Was it because of scandal? Was it because it was too late in the night? Was it because no one wanted to deal with a new born baby? No one can say. But what is known is that Jesus wasn't wanted in the Inns. Joseph and Mary found a stable and later that night, Jesus was born there, among the lowly. He was born into poverty and thus, has always been the poor people's Man. How true that the crowded Inns can be symbolic of those who have too much and no room for the Savior! How true that Jesus was friends with the sinners, the poor, the forgotten. Heck, no one was celebrating the night with the animals, were they? How true that today, it is the same, that those suffering of poverties of all types, have seemingly more room for the Savior. 

     As a child, teen and young adult, I have become so accustomed to this interpretation of the story. I have learned to love it and make it a part of who I am. I have adopted the phrase, "Manger in My Heart." I have believed that my heart, though it may be little, may have room for the Savior if I open the doors. I do know this to be true. I have made room for the stable. But it wasn't until this last Christmas that I realized I was only half way there. 

     I was sitting in a half full church on Christmas Eve with my family. All afternoon and into the night, people had posted statuses about full and packed churches and so, I was wondering where all the people were. One of my favorite memories of Christmas Eve is looking down from the Choir Loft and seeing so many people - a church packed. Yet, this Christmas, there was plenty of room. I thought to myself, well if Mary and Joseph came here that first Christmas Eve, there would be tons of room for them in this little lowly church. (Turns out, I missed the memo that there was an earlier Mass at the other church...oops.) Yes, I was thinking, even then, as if I had been trained to, about the room in the Inns. 

       The readings were yet again familiar to me, ones that I have eternally etched in my heart. There was seemingly nothing "new" about this Christmas Eve celebration. That was until Deacon John began his homily. "Inns were meant for people who come and go; people who only are visiting," is a line that has stuck with me since and will be the mantra of my lifestyle this year. I am amazed at what that little realization has done for my heart:

     Deacon was so right when he said that Inns are meant for those only visiting. Think about it: we don't live in hotels. We rent a room or two when our families go on vacation, when we are visiting in a new area for a days, when we are away on business. But, we don't stay for a very long time (probably because it would be very expensive). You check in and check out. Deacon went on further to explain that Jesus didn't come just for a visit. He came to save the world. He came to stay for a while and change the world while He was here. That's why the Inns weren't suitable for Him; they are for visitors, one of which He was not. At the end of Deacon's homily, I felt enriched. Of course, my heart and mind were reflecting on this notion for the rest of the Mass. But at one moment in one of the Eucharistic prayers, Father said something about being born in a stable. Jesus, that is, being born in a stable. STABLE. 

     As a lover of words, my mind suddenly realized an AWESOME play on words. There are two definitions of the word, stable. First, a noun, the place where animals are kept. Two, an adjective, not likely to change or fail; fully established. Deacon said that Jesus didn't come as a visitor; He came to stay. HE WAS BORN IN A STABLE BECAUSE HE CAME TO BE A STABLE PRESENCE. Now, admittedly, sometimes beautiful words make me cry. The word stable suddenly had me in tears at Communion. Jesus came to be stable, always present. Suddenly I realized that little kid me, who had made a manger in my heart was only half way there. Adult me realized that the manger in my heart needed to stay all year long; Christmas isn't just a "visitor," it is a stable celebration. 

     Now, some may ask why I waited until two weeks post-Christmas to write this post, but the truth is, Christmas isn't over. According to the Church calendar, Ordinary Time doesn't start for another week. So if someone says that Christmas is over...boom, no it's not. But also, here's the thing: I went to the food store a few days after Christmas and I was disturbed by the amount of chocolate filled hearts and teddy bears in red and pink ribbons that surrounded the entrance to the store. Valentine's Day? In the commercial USA, Christmas is over on Christmas Day and Valentine's Day takes over the very next day. Christmas has become a visitor when Christmas is meant to be stable. 

      Today is the Feast of the Three Kings. I love this feast as it is sometimes referred to "Little Christmas." It is on this day we remember the relentless searching for the Child by the Three Wise Men/Kings. What is the time lapse between the birth of the baby and the finding of the Child in the Stable, I'm not sure. But we know that it wasn't right immediately after the birth of Christ. Christ was visited by the shepherds first, then the kings. Just like any birth, we don't stop celebrating the baby the day after their birth. It doesn't go: "Oh congrats, new baby....moving on." It goes more like this: "Oh new baby...oh new baby...oh new baby....oh new baby." The Kings remind us of this notion: that Christmas is meant to last a while. Christmas isn't meant to be a visitor holiday. It's meant to be something of stability in our hearts. 

      Jesus wasn't born in an Inn; there was no room. There was no room for another family of visitors. Yet, there was room in a stable, where the Savior would be born. The Savior, who intended not to come for a visit but rather to stay, the be stable. To be the source of stability in our lives. We have those days when we wonder what is stable. For me they happen all too often. But I know these things to be true: my family and my faith are my sources of stability. Jesus is my stability. Has been from day one and will continue to be. He is my stable presence.