Dome is Home #FourMoreYears

"There comes a time in your life when you have to choose

to turn the page, write another book or simply close it."

- Stephen Adler

    I never thought the day would come: moving my younger sister, Mary, into her dorm at Immaculate, my alma mater. No, it's not because I was in denial of her growing up or even that she would want to move away. But rather, it's because Mary always forged her own path and as much as I secretly wanted her so badly to go to IU, I knew she would choose somewhere else. That's when she surprised us all by choosing IU. It's funny because even she never thought she would go there. But God wanted her there and well, let's be real, God gets what God wants. 

    Immaculata was the best four years of my life. I loved high school and I think the real world is kind of rad but IU was different. It was there that I forged down paths of service, discernment, academia, and even relationships. I lived an independent lifestyle and learned so much about myself through all the different opportunities with which I was presented. Sometimes I think, I have no idea who I was before Immaculata and in reality, that's true. IU was where I became someone. It was home, it was comfort, it was sacrifice and sorrow, it was everything I needed in the past four years. And no, it wasn't perfect, but it was what God had in store for me, making it perfect for me despite ups and downs and turn arounds. I loved the school, I still do and probably always will. 

     When it came time for Mary to start her college search, I had all the tips and advice. Apply early. Apply here, here and here, even if you don't want to go there - scholarship money. Don't apply anywhere that requires you to pay unless you really want to go there. Visit every where and ask questions. Go somewhere you feel at home. Naturally she did everything but most of the time, but hey at least she still applied to IU. I remember when I got my acceptance letter - I was overjoyed; the search was over. When she got hers, IU was added to a lengthy list of "places I've been accepted to." Even up until the last minute she was fighting going there. Yet, suddenly, she said, OKAY. I'm going. 

     I remember trying to hide my excitement. I didn't want her to feel like she would be hidden in my shadow. But whenever I would visit I would tell everyone that my sister was going to IU in the Fall. I was so happy, over joyed, that she was going to a place I felt at home. But more importantly, I was PROUD TO SAY THAT MY SISTER, as if she was a big shot, WAS GOING TO IMMACULATA. I thought everyone should know that someone as amazing, far more amazing than I could ever be, was going to Immaculata. I knew she would be the life of a party, do well in school, be known as a friendly gal with a dry sense of humor. She would be the one who will stay up late hours into the night and always be there for people. She would have no qualms about giving her opinion. She was going to forge a louder, stronger path in one year than I did in four years. I was just so proud that she was going there. 

      The night before move-in day, we had a huge argument. I was so upset that I hadn't been able to hang out with her one-on-one in a while, aside from the random target trips. I was going to miss my sister so much more than she even realized. I knew it would be hard for her best friend and our youngest sister, but I wanted some of Mary-time. And I didn't get it. We cried and fought but the next morning, things were back to normal as we packed up my car, piled in and drove the familiar drive to IU. I could do it with my eyes closed (but don't worry officer, I will never do that!) and probably so could she. I can drive from anywhere and get to IU; it's the north of my compass. We naturally picked up wawa on the way and arrived way too early for move in. But at least we were there. 

      Our day was spent moving stuff in and out, decorating, partying with nuns in the dorm and me running around like a chicken without her head. Of course, every where we went, I met someone who I needed to give a hug to and catch up with. Lizzie was fascinated that I knew so many people. Some even asked why I decided to visit on move in day. Naturally, I set them straight. As much as I love IU, it would be crazy to visit on move in day. I explained that my sister was moving in today and everyone was just as ecstatic as I was. They couldn't wait to welcome her in themselves. It's like she was more a celebrity than the president. She has no idea how many people want to know her. 

       When I left that day, I knew that our argument the night before was stupid. I knew that now that Mary was at IU, I would have more one on one Mary-time with her than probably ever before. It's so easy for me to drive up after school one day for dinner or visit on the weekends. She'll probably need someone with a car anyway, to drive her places.  By Sunday, we were sitting next to each other at Mass and dancing, singing (okay that was just me) and laughing at the little things. And yes, we were at Target right after Mass. 

      I hope Mary's IU is like mine, but not just like mine. I hope she forges a new pathway but falls in love with the school just like I did. I hope everyone knows her name from the good that she's done and how smart she is. I hope every professor talks about her behind her back saying that she is great to have in class. I hope she stands on stage so many times and freshmen next year want to be her best friend. I hope all the nuns harass her just like they harassed me and that her work study boss gives her grief every so often. I hope she runs into ups and downs but knows that rotunda launch is only a piece of figurative language. And of course, I hope she somehow gets to go on all the awesome trips I did and more. Maybe even study abroad. No matter what, though, I hope that Dome is Home for her. And that she doesn't mind when I visit...because in essence, it's more like going home for me every time than visiting. 

Pilgrimage (The Catholic Version of a Music Festival) Pt. 1

"If music be the food of love, play on."

- Twelfth Night, Shakespeare

      Most recently there has been plenty of articles about going to music festivals. There's the pre-festival hype, the "how you know you survived (enter name here) music festival," and the post-festival blues. While I've never experienced going to a music festival as huge as Glastonbury or Coachella, I participated in a walking pilgrimage this weekend and based on what Buzzfeed has to say, they are basically the same thing. Only a pilgrimage has way home to offer. 

     While I couldn't participate in the entire 3/4 day walking pilgrimage, I was blessed enough to participate in the last day during which I walked just about ten miles. The group with whom I walked started at St. Adalbert's Parish in Port Richmond and walked for three days to the National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown. That's a lot of miles and a lot of walking. People of all ages partook in the pilgrimage from various different places. Overall, there were about 3000 people at the closing mass. The youngest pilgrim was only a few months old and the oldest was 79 years old. There were families, single people, children, babies, and older people. There were people who spoke only Polish and people like me, who didn't understand a single word. Oh, I forgot to mention that 99% of the pilgrimage was in Polish. So, needless to say, that was an interesting part of my journey. 

      As we walked, we prayed, we listened to faith witnesses, we sang, we danced, we praised the Lord. We made friends, sisters and brothers. Despite not being able to speak the main language of the weekend, I was able to connect with so many people. I was surrounded in so much faith and felt closer to those with whom I walked and prayed. I experienced God in a brand new way and it was beautiful. The faith sharing, the pain from walking so far, the getting to know people on a faith level, was beautiful. 

      We made it to the shrine about 12:15pm and we were to celebrate Mass together at 2:00pm. As we were waiting for Mass to begin, we watched the church get filled and packed like sardines. People were every where, even on the altar. I felt that despite never having experienced something to this capacity, I felt like I knew all about it; like I had read about it some where. Then I saw a few girls walk into the church with those weird flower headband things people wear. That's when I realized, I had read all about something similar this pilgrimage. Music festivals are all the rage and the similarities are insane. Here's what I discovered: 

1. Pilgrimages are filled with music, clapping, and dancing. Just like music festivals (duh). People walk with their guitars and play it at the most random times. All the cool kids have one. There's also drums, violins, flutes; you name it, it's there. People just join your walking group with instruments and play right along with whoever is there. Even when you aren't walking and you're sitting for a break, there's music being played somewhere. If someone can't play an instrument or didn't bring one, there's always a voice to be heard. People who can sing, sing and people who can't sing, sing. There's lots of clapping, dancing, and laughing. The only difference between music at a pilgrimage and music at a music festival? We sing hymns instead of pop culture music. 

2. Showering is few and far between. Basically you shower the morning of the pilgrimage, then walk all day only to sleep on a Church hall floor. There's no showers. The next day, same thing. Walk all day, stop at the Church, no showers. Three days of this. If it rains, you're going to get dirty. To keep packing light, you bring maybe two sets of clothes. You're going to smell. You're going to get sweaty. You're going to have terribly stinky feet. Your hair will be knotty, greasy, icky. You're children will be even dirtier because somehow kids always manage to get dirtier when they do the same activities as parents. You're going to have to get comfortable with the fact that everyone stinks after three days. And don't even think about apologizing for your stench. I repeat, everyone stinks. 

*according to my sources pilgrims do shower. I rest my case, however, because there were no showers in the church hall. They get water...somehow!*

3. You're going to get very close with people. At music festivals one typically pitches a tent in a field of tents. You get to know your neighbors pretty quickly because if not, you'll forget where your tent is. On a larger scale, pilgrimages do encourage you to pack a tent or a hammock. The truth is on a walking pilgrimage, one is never really sure where he or she will be sleeping. In this case, people were camped out on church hall floors. EVERYONE WAS IN ONE ROOM. That's right, babies, kids, parents, single people, everyone. Imagine getting some sleep after a very long day of walking. By day three, you're bound to be exhausted. 

4. You make friends in the most unique ways. In many cases, music festivals bring together people from every language and culture. Pilgrimages, too. Now while this pilgrimage was mostly a Polish pilgrimage, there were still people of many different cultures represented. People say the universal language is love. Most times I agree. But this weekend, there were two universal languages: coffee and God. And since God is love, well I guess the universal language was LOVE. Truth is. It doesn't matter, it didn't matter what language I spoke. People were grabbing my hands, dancing, singing and talking with me whether I understood them or not. You learn how to communicate despite a language barrier (I had a personal translator though which was fun. Thanks, Sister!). The people you walk with are suddenly your sisters and brothers. They hug you, kiss you, make you dance and sing and feel like a complete fool for Jesus. It's amazing. 

5. You are forever changed. A pilgrimage changes you. Whether you walked because you wanted to, someone invited you, or you were basically fighting the Lord and someone dragged you along, you will be changed. You will not be able to recognize your feet after a few days. I kid you not. Your feet will probably be covered in bandages, gold bond and have a number of blisters. You will have terrible tan lines, too. Especially if you're a nun. Talk about only have tan wrists, ankles and ears (but only half way). Your feet, face and hands will be so physically changed. But don't worry, it's only temporary. Your heart will change, too. You will feel a peace, joy and excitement like never before. There is nothing more beautiful to me than a group of people singing, dancing and chanting praise to the Lord. At music festivals you experience the praise and worship of various different rockstars. At pilgrimage, you experience the praise and worship of the ultimate rockstars: Jesus and Mary. Your heart will unknowingly be changed by the sacrifices, the witnesses, the homilies, the sacraments. Your soul will become closer to Jesus and there's no question about it. You will feel this indescribable joy rising in your soul with every drum beat, every clap, every footstep. It feels like a thousand drum beats rising in your soul. It's amazing. 

And finally...

6. You will experience a post-pilgrimage depression. The whole time you are walking, you are walking on public streets and pathways. People driving or walking by will think you are crazy. Yet, as you are walking, you wave and think about those crazy people who do not yet know the truth of the Lord's goodness. Why aren't they joining us? you think. And just when you think that, people run and join the back of the pilgrimage. Your whole life for however many days was simply music, joy, peace, prayer, love behind all description. When you leave, reality hits you hard. You must learn to communicate in a normal way. You will experience a reverse culture shock when you go home. Living your day to day life for Jesus will be difficult again because you are no longer surrounded by people who sing and dance and pray. And as much as you might like to do that all the time, basic reality says, not exactly. However, there are plenty of ways to infiltrate your pilgrimage experience in your every day life. I promise; life after pilgrimage exists. 

     Pilgrimages aren't exactly like Musical Festivals, but the sentiments that people feel when they go to one are similar. I encourage each Catholic young person, child and old person alike to do a pilgrimage. Whether it's a day, three days, two weeks, whatever, do it. Music Festivals are great but here at pilgrimage, there is God. Jesus is present, He permeates this place. He lives and breathes and is so real. You can feel the arms of our loving Mother around you in every hug and embrace. You experience beauty in a whole different way. It's amazing. 

     Of course, the truth is that whether you experience a walking pilgrimage like I did or not, you are a pilgrim. We are pilgrims on a journey from the day of our Baptism. Our life is a journey in finding, loving and living in relationship with Jesus. Our walk from our pews to the altar during Holy Communion is a pilgrimage. It is a reminder that as we live and breathe we are journeying with Jesus.  So journey. Get those good shoes (sandals and socks) on and begin living out your journey for Jesus. You're on the journey, just out your heart in it. Trust me, my sister or brother, pilgrimage is an experience like no other. 

Freedom in God's Will

"Being free is not being able to do whatever you want.
Being free is surrendering to God's will."
- unknown

     I've been riding an emotional roller coast this past week. There isn't much detail I can go into, but my weeks have been filled with lots of time for reflection, prayer, Eucharist and visits with my Sisters. Between running back to school this week to going for walks to teaching a class of first and second graders at VBS, there may seem to be little time for reflection. However, God finds His way in my heart in every little second. God knows my heart and God speaks to me there. 

     My biggest reflection this past week has been on freedom. As Americans, we so often proclaim the word, Freedom. Freedom in so many things and while I could beg to differ that these past two weeks have offered arguments about freedom in the media, I'm not even going to talk about those things. What I would like to offer is a different definition of freedom, one that doesn't include specific rights or abilities to do something. Some may say that freedom is the ability to do whatever we want. On the contrary, freedom is abiding by certain laws. 

     One of my many good conversations this week was about the ten commandments. Many people, even Christians, feel that following the ten commandments is restrictive. Why do we have to follow these ten rules or guidelines? Some people fail to remember that other faith beliefs have many more rules and guidelines; many more than ten. In this conversation, we brought up specific driving rules of the road. When you're driving instructor, whether it's your mom, dad, older sibling, or actual driving teacher, shows you how to drive, some of the number one rules are: stop for three seconds at the stop sign and look right, left and right again, and always stop at a red light. Yes, there are times when people fly through the stop signs and even red lights. But some times when they break the rules, they either get caught by the red light cameras or cause an accident. The rules of the road are meant to protect your car, the driver and the passengers. They exist to avoid accidents and awful patterns of traffic. Sometimes, I find myself in intersections without lights saying, I wish there was a light here. These rules of the road are important and must be followed for everyone's safety.

       The rules and laws of the ten commandments are meant to do the same. They exist to give guidelines on how to positively live life with no incidents. Think about some of them: honor your father and mother, do not covet your neighbors' goods, do not kill, etc. When these commandments aren't followed, someone usually gets hurt whether emotionally, physically or even mentally. Kids who don't listen to their parents usually get hurt in some way. For example, when parents say don't jump off the pool ladder and the child does. The child can get seriously hurt. Stealing usually puts people in jail. As does murdering people. These are basic levels of following the commandments but you can see that even on the top layer, it can end badly. His commandments are meant to protect us. 

      The ten commandments are just meant to protect us, however, they exist to free us. In His laws we are free. We are free from so much more than we can even imagine. Freedom, I offer, is found in following His will. In the past year I have been a witness and a participant in the world. I have been a worldly woman, working a job, enjoying things of the world. I have made time for prayer, but not nearly as much as my heart desired. I have spent time out with friends, bought more dresses than I honestly need, and ate out more than I care to even admit. All of these things are good, but in moderation. However, our world doesn't preach moderation. I experienced that in the past year and I can tell you that my "worldly living" while not extreme as most of the world, definitely was a barrier to my relationship with God. I ran from Him at times, making excuses for one thing or the other. I maintained a minimal relationship with Him. I prayed when it was convenient and went to Mass every Sunday but didn't give myself fully over to the Sacrament. In all these moments of living the life of a worldly defined "successful first year in the real world," I felt restless. I felt bound to something and less free. 

      At times I would catch glimpses of freedom and experience and indescribable peace, peace the world cannot give. In these moments, I was with my Sisters or praying on retreat with my students or allowing myself to be alone in nature. Freedom was in prayer and giving myself over to the will of God. At times I felt I was running away from what He was calling me to and when I finally entertained the thought, I felt peaceful. It began to occur to me that no matter what the Lord was calling me and how restrictive it may appear to the world, I was actually experiencing freedom. When I stopped fighting God's will for me, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt so incredibly free and peaceful. 

     God's Will for us is designed with us in mind. He knows the deepest desires of our heart but He also wants the best for us. He gives us free will to accept His will or not but we must no that we avoid or run from His will, we are missing out on such a huge freedom and peace. I've experienced that peace. I know that it's harder to fight the will of God than to accept it. I have felt the restlessness that comes from fighting day and night, fleeing from the Lord (or trying to at least). But God knew that I would come back and He was ready to offer me peace the world cannot give. The freedom, the biggest freedom we can experience, in His Will, His power, His name.