Be Saints

"I am the first and the last;

I am the Lord who died that you might live. 

I am the bridegroom, this is my wedding song. 

You are my bride, come to the marriage feast."

- Take and Eat, Michael Joncas

     One of my most favorite things about traveling is getting to visit and worship in different Catholic churches. What I love so much about this is knowing that I can go to any Catholic church, be welcomed like family, and the Mass will be familiar to me. I also love listening to the music they sing, the announcements they read (how rich their weekly spiritual life is!) and of course, a different perspective on the readings in the Homily. It is always familiar, even if it's in a different language, and church, specifically Mass, always make me feel at home. 

    This past weekend, I was blessed to the spend time with my bridesmaids in Hershey, PA. We went camping, rode roller coasters and ate a lot of chocolate. As much as I hate being the center of attention, it was beautiful to walk past so many people and have them wish me well wishes for my upcoming marriage. Recently, I've been so busy at school in my ministry job, that I haven't had much time to really focus on the fact that I am, indeed, getting married, in quite a few days. Every so often, in the middle of my chaos, a little alarm goes off in my brain that says, "Reminder. Reminder. You are getting married." And then there's the sub-sequential thoughts of, "I need to order flowers. I need to pay the dj. I need to call our priest. Do we have a place to live yet?" Yikes. Yet this weekend, I had time to enjoy the friendship and sisterhood of my bridesmaids and also focus on the fact that, yes, I am getting married. Judging from the movies, you'd never think that a Bachelorette weekend would be like a retreat. But I'm grateful to my girls for giving me that opportunity. 

   I loved that my girls knew me well enough to make celebrating Mass together a part of the weekend, making the weekend absolutely complete. As I stated above, I love visiting various different churches on my travels. Despite having gone to Hershey so many times, I can't remember ever going to Mass at St. Joan of Arc Parish. When we arrived a few minutes before Mass, I knelt to talk to Jesus. In this conversation, I was drawn to the stained glass windows on the right side of church. Contemporary images of spiritual life, education and so on. I am so used to seeing saints in the stained glass, that these contemporary images really made my Theology heart sing. But when I turned to the left side of the church out of curiosity, I was even more intrigued. I had never seen Catholicism linked so beautifully with Scripture and the present day. My inner Theology student/nerd burst. Each contemporary image on the right was paired with an image of Christ on the left; tied together with only one or two words. 

   Now while I feel I could write a paper on all the windows, I will only share the first two windows with you. You'll have to go see the others for yourself. On the left side was the Holy Family; Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. It simply read, "Spiritual Life." On the right side was a young married couple, with a newborn baby at the baptismal font and a priest baptizing their new baby. Again, below the image, it read, "Spiritual Life." I could only be reminded of what so many sisters have told me during this time of engagement, "We need Holy Families, too." How beautiful was Christ's confirmation to me in my heart through these images! I could not help but think of textbooks and textbooks worth of Theology behind the sacrament of marriage. Because while we will have a wedding day, the sacrament is the most important part of the day. And it's mostly because we get to begin our marriage, which will last a lifetime, with the Eucharist, surrounded by the physical Body of Christ in our family members. 

    Father's homily spoke about the first reading, in which Isaiah says, "my ways are not your ways and my thoughts are not your thoughts." He told us how he fought his vocation to the priesthood, wanting something completely different. I had to laugh as how much I felt connected to this, but in the opposite way. How I fought married life because I felt it wasn't good enough. And yet, I have learned so well these past few years how the vocation to marriage life is just as good and holy as religious life. I simply needed to find my holy, faithful, husband to be. 

   The icing on the cake, or should I say, the icing on the Hershey's bar, was the Communion hymn. I loved the traditional hymns that the congregation sung with the cantor, but my favorite was at Communion. I guess as a person with high empathy and as an auditory learner, I tend to connect with music, stories and people more quickly than the average human. Every so often, when singing in the congregation during Mass, I get to a certain line and suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with emotion. This happened on Sunday with the above quoted hymn. It was Jesus' invitation to me (and Joe), to come to His wedding feast. Yet another confirmation that this is truth. That in 75 days, we will join together in Matrimony at the wedding feast. 

    There's a part two to my day, however. I thought I was finished being blessed during the day but Joe called me on the way home and asked if I might make it home in time to go to Mass with him and his family. I told him I already went to Mass, but I did want to see him. So what better way to spend time together than during Mass (can you tell I love the Eucharist soooooooo much?)? I made it just in time for 5PM Mass at his parish. Again, hearing another perspective on the readings is always good for my heart. This time, the Deacon gave the homily. He correlated a story of what he encourages newly weds to be for each other with the Gospel. Deacon said, "I always encourage young newly weds to remember to be one thing for each other: saints." He reminded the whole congregation of this but I felt that he was speaking right to us. He continued to express that marriage is not just between two people, but a 100% dedication by three people: husband, wife and Christ. The wedding feast was coming back to me for the second day. Just when I thought my blessings were already too numerous for the day, this homily was just another added blessing. Yes, so many church experiences of marriage. 

      God's ways are not our ways and God's thoughts are not our thoughts. Yet somehow, God always manages to speak to our hearts in a way we can understand. I cannot wait to be Joe's wife, to begin a holy family with him, and I wait in the hopeful patience that God will continue to prepare our hearts to be saints. 

Receiving and Believing

"It is with human certainty that no one can see her own beauty

or perceive her own worth until it has been reflected back to her

in the mirror of another loving, caring human being."

John Joseph Powell

      It is my belief that almost every woman, at some point during her growing up, feels self-conscious. Whether it was because one's peers were growing quicker or slower than she, one felt so self conscious as the school nurse performed the yearly health screening or one simply felt compared to her older/younger siblings. The truth is, our media doesn't do much to help women either. Women are constantly being told how to wear their hair, what size they should wear and what they should look like. Women, despite there being so much advancement, still feel so pressured to look, appear and feel a certain way. 

     I am no stranger to this. There are often moments when I feel my body being attacked by the media. I should weigh a certain amount. I should look a certain way. I should dress to my body type but it has to be the right body type. From a young age, I basically gave up on trying to fit in with the way I dressed. Most of it was my dedication to not exposing every inch of my body, but it was also because I never felt quite like those clothes ever fit me properly. I began to hate trying on clothes in the store and even now, I'm more resolved to hold it up, buy it and then return it if it doesn't fit. Honestly, buying new clothes is the worst chore. And the scale is probably my worst enemy. 

    I often talk about my life as a teacher and campus minister in an all girl school, so it should be no surprise that I am surrounded by the heavy emphasis on body image on the daily. Whether it's casual conversation about prom dresses and spray tans or more serious conversations about how women and sexuality are portrayed in the media, I feel like every day we are talking about how we look. It's not only the students, it's the faculty members, too. We constantly judge each other for our food choices in the cafeteria or in our lunchboxes or how much we exercised each day. So I've made it a point to be a positive voice of reason in the hallways. It's been my mission to remind my students and my colleagues, that we each have different gifts, we all have great things to offer to the world, and I try to shower people with good, reinforcing compliments. Last year, the girls told me that I was one of the most supportive faculty members because of my pleasant disposition in and out of school. I took pride in that. 

      I believe it's a gift I've been given, to focus and see the best in each person. But along with that is the courage to tell people. I love giving out compliments and collecting smiles in return. That has been a part of me from a very young age. But it goes deeper than that. Whenever I am on retreat with the students, I have the opportunity to tell them specifically what I love about them. I often write them affirmations that sound like this, "You have a great ability to listen to your peers. You are a good person; believe it!" I always tell them to believe whatever good thing someone says about them, because I feel that what goes along with feeling so self-conscious about oneself, is the inability to believe anything good anyone says. 

      Over the years I have been thanked by my students for making them believe in themselves. They send me little emails during their school years in college or over the holidays thanking me for reminding them of their goodness. I cannot help but feel overwhelming joy because at least one person believed in her own goodness, even if for only a little while. It's probably one of the best parts of my job. 

     But recently I've been realizing that I don't take my own advice. How can I tell them time and time again to believe the good things people say about them if I don't believe it myself? Perhaps this goes hand in hand with my struggle with body image and positive identity, or maybe I am just not used to having people say things about me since I'm always busy saying good things about others. Regardless of the reason why, I've noticed that receiving compliments makes me feel awkward. I brought this to prayer a few weeks ago and was reflecting on feeling down on myself. I asked God to remind me of my beauty as His handiwork. Then I became a victim to receiving and yes, believing the goodness people believe about me. 

     One of the greatest compliments I have ever received was from a student I had just met on a service trip. He wrote me a palanca (a service trip tradition!) that read simply and sweetly, "I admire your confidence and your outgoing personality." I always felt obnoxious with my loud voice and seemingly outgoing personality. But this young man considered it confidence. I've never considered myself confident before, at least not in this way. But his simple words really meant a lot to me. 

     A few days later, someone texted me a picture of some dainty stationary. Knowing my love for stationary, it made sense to me that she sent the picture saying, "this reminds me of you!" I smiled because it's not the first time someone told me stationary reminded me of them - I loved writing letters. But she followed up with another text. It's cute and pretty just like you. It came on a day when I was feeling particularly hard on myself. Cute and pretty. I've never considered myself that either. But apparently someone else did. 

     And most recently in the succession of compliments seemingly flowing from God as an answer to my prayer, was this final instance. While we do not have religious sisters at my parish, a number of the neighboring parishes do. This summer I've been blessed to share my pew with some of the local sisters who live at the school my youngest sister attends. I know these sisters well and am in touch with them often. Each day, the sisters and I park in the lot and enter the chapel together. We comfortably pray our own prayers and give each other our spaced. But during the sign of peace, we exchange warm hugs and well wishes. Usually one particular sister says, "Peace be with you, Becca. Have a great day." But on one morning, she said something different. Instead of her usual, she hugged me saying, "Peace be with you, Becca. You are loved." 

     I am not used to receiving compliments and while they still make me feel awkward, there's no question that these instances came from God. I had expressed my self-consciousness in prayer and He responded by sending me three very unique and irregular compliments. It was a reminder to again, believe that I am God's handiwork, I am beautiful and I am loved. It was a reminder to take my own advice: receive and believe. 

A Reflection on Trust

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, 

on your own intelligence rely not.

In all your ways, be mindful of Him,

and He will make straight your paths."

- Proverbs 3:5-6

    I am on the first floor by the faculty lounge in school. I am walking to class with my laptop in my arm, the text books piled on top and my coffee mug in my right hand. A student calls my name from behind, "Miss G, Miss G!" I turn around and seemingly begin to solve the world's most recent crisis. As I speak with the student, I feel one of my upper right teeth begin to wiggle so with my tongue, I push it back into place. But before I can get it to stay, it falls out in the middle of my conversation. The student seems not phased by this personally mortifying experience and continues speaking at a rapid pace. I bend down to pick up the tooth off the floor and try to make my way to the faculty lounge to get a cup. The student finishes explaining her crisis and leaves.
    The next thing I know, a few of my colleagues are talking to me, all from different places in the room about different things. All I am trying to do is get a cup with some milk in it - I need to put my tooth there so I can get it put back into my mouth after school. As I stand up after getting the milk, I realize that more of my teeth are loose and wiggly. I'm trying not to speak as much so I can keep my teeth in my mouth, but colleagues keep asking me questions. Each time I open my mouth, more teeth fall out. I'm getting good at catching them all in the cup of milk I've replaced my coffee mug with.
   Finally, I get to class. Late, of course, since I was busy catching all my falling-out teeth. Then a student comments something about my dress, in front of the class. Trying not to be mortified that part of my dress has been stuck in my nylons all day, I put my things down on the desk and adjust my dress. When I open my mouth to say thank you, the rest of my teeth fall out and I no longer have a single tooth in my mouth. The worst part about this whole thing is that not a single person noticed my teeth falling out and I am mortified thinking about how terrifying I must look with my teeth in cup and not in my mouth. I start to sweat and get nervous and before I can say another thing, I wake up.

     It's about 4 am now and I'm worried about whether or not I closed the windows in my office before I left, knowing for well that even if I did, Sharon would have closed them after she took the trash from my room that day. At about 4:30 am, I'll roll over and start worrying about whether or not I emailed the priest a confirmation email about coming to say Mass five months into the school year. It's August. And around 5 am, I'll flip onto my stomach in hopes that a different position will help me sleep but instead I can only think about what people would say about me if I actually didn't have any teeth and what they already say about me for any type of reason. About 5:30 am I'll have exhausted myself from thinking too much and I'll start dreaming again. But if the tooth dream comes back, I'm up for good.

     The amount of times I have a dream about losing my teeth is astronomical. Would I say once a week? Depends on the time of year. But honestly, I've had the tooth dream more times than I can count. While it may sound strange, this tooth dream is one of the most commonly recorded dreams that people have. So I know I'm not the only one waking up feeling like a weirdo having dreamt about teeth. But there's two important factors of my reoccurring dream that I'd like to point out. First, no one in my dream ever notices my teeth falling out; only me. While I think that watching someone's teeth fall out might be extremely traumatizing, it never seems to be the case in my dream. I'm the only one worried about it. Second, I cannot control my teeth. As much as I try to keep them all in my mouth, I fail over and over again. And this is what it means to me: when I'm worried about something, usually I'm the only one worried about it. And what I'm worried about, I usually can't control. Yet, time and time again, I lose hours of sleep over worrying about things I really can't control.

     Last week, I went to Mass and then coffee with a dear Sister friend of mine who has been a part of my life for about ten years now. We always have beautiful conversation that is sometimes light-hearted and other times we try to tackle our understanding of the woes of the world. This time, while telling great stories, laughing loudly and catching up (though I feel, we always pick up where we left off despite the time!), we also began talking about a lot of the latest news stories and the empathetic sadness we feel. That conversation transitioned into a conversation about worrying and our inability to trust at times, despite great faith in God. Why do we worry? What makes us anxious? Why do we let so many things, out of our control, bother us so greatly? We didn't reach a conclusion. But it did lead me down a small road of reflection on trust. How do I actually surrender my anxieties to God and be free of worry?
     A few nights after I saw Sister, I had the darn tooth dream again. But instead of waking up and laying in my bed freaking out for hours, I start praying. I've been having the tooth dream for years and I learned that praying was the best way for me to relieve my worry (and also get back to sleep). I was worried about something huge, something I won't share here, but I remembered back to the conversation I had with Sister a few days prior. We reminded ourselves then that in our moments of weakness and worry, we need to discern what is truly from God. We agreed that sometimes God puts worry in our heart for a good reason, perhaps to keep us from doing something that might bring harm. But God would never wish us to worry ourselves into exhaustion and so this anxiety that wakes me up at night can't be from God. So I began to pray, "Jesus, Your will be done. Not mine. And please, show me Your will."
     Another Sister I know used to tell me to be specific when praying to Jesus. It's not testing God as in saying, "Jesus send me a blue butterfly at 12:15 today to show me your listening." But rather, "Jesus, I am doubting and I need you to be overwhelmingly obvious today. And let me know it's you." That's what I prayed when I woke up. I did not go out of my way to make anything different about my day. I simply woke up, got dressed and ready to go, drove to Joe's house and we went to Mass together.
     Whenever we can, we join each other for Mass at our parishes. That being said, our parish families have really gotten to know us as a couple. So when we walked in, one of the ushers asked Joe and I to bring up the gifts. We accepted this gift and went to find a pew after passing the pastor on our way. He simply nodded a hello as Mass was going to begin soon. We prayed together and when we sat down, I told Joe that I needed him to pray for my heart; I was anxious. I also told him, I was waiting for Jesus to make his will obvious to me to reassure me. Joe simply said, "I know you worry. It will be okay."
     As Mass began, I remember thinking about how Jesus has so clearly made himself and his plan known to me recently. I haven't experienced this worry until now. All of my prayers have pointed me in this direction. And I knew that this was the devil really abusing my worrisome heart. This worry was not of God. This I knew. But my humanity needed reassurance. I received that reassurance when Father began his homily talking about a couple who had just celebrated their 50th anniversary yesterday in the church. We applauded them and father spoke a bit about how a marriage stays successful. Prayer. I admit, I was letting my mind wander in prayer a bit when I felt Joe gently tapping my leg. He was getting up and I was confused. Father had invited a newly engaged parishioner to the altar with his future bride. That newly engaged parishioner was Joe and I was his future bride. Immediately, happy tears starting falling down my face as I thanked Jesus in my heart for truly outdoing himself this time.
      Father talked with us a bit on the altar and then invited the entire congregation to pray over us. He prayed through Mary's intercession, another God-wink for me, and I simply held Joe's hand feeling a wave of grace wash over me. When we went back to our pew, I quickly whispered to Joe, "Jesus answered my prayers." He squeezed my hand and responded, "I know."

      The truth is, human beings worry. We worry about a ton of things we can't control. We doubt despite the fact that everything in life has pointed us this way. We get anxious about little things like how people perceive us, what they think about our actions and more. But this is not of God. While I think it's safe to assume I'll most likely be woken up by the tooth dream again, I know that Jesus can calm my spirit. I know that no matter how big or little my worry, Jesus will make himself overwhelmingly known to me. He will constantly reassure me in my doubts. And to have a fiance that believes this, too, is beyond blessing.

From Convent to Conte

"You made the best choice for yourself.

Your heart was torn about where to go

and he came into your life at the perfect moment."

- S. Jeanette

      Two blog posts in one week? It must be summertime. Yet, despite this, I've been busy. But the desire to write and open my heart is louder than ever. I can hardly wait to sit in the pool tomorrow, but tomorrow is not yet here. And since I can't write in the pool (water and technology just don't mix apparently...hah!), why not use the best of the time I'm waiting for my class to begin? 

      Yesterday, I was so incredibly blessed to spend the day with some of the most beautiful people I know. For the past eight years, the service immersion week, CREW, has taken place. I participated in CREW as a awkward adolescent, helped out when I was in college (for the exception of when I spent time in SA) and was back last year (as an adult? yikes!). We had been planning for a great week this year, but as the odds have it, only a few signed up. So we decided to make the best of it: why not have a whole day dedicated to CREW. That's what I love about these women - they have creative hope. 

      And so, around 5:30 yesterday morning, I woke up, began to work on my annual duty assigned to me, and then headed to our CREW day for Mass and the day. Was I excited? Yes. See above mention of morning wake up time. Was I nervous? Also, yes. But why? Well, it was going to be the first time I had interaction with a lot of the sisters since before I was engaged. Now, it wasn't as if I was showing up, not having told anyone. They all knew. I figured telling them before I saw them all again, would break the ice a bit. So, why was I nervous? Well, to be honest, I can't really pinpoint an exact reason. But, I can tell you the exact second my nerves were eased. 

      Immediately after Mass, we had invited the girls for breakfast and as usual, I was lingering behind when S. Jeannette grabbed me by the hand gently. Sister has known me for what seems like eternity, but what is actually close to 11 years. Without actually spending large amounts of time together, she has watched me grow throughout my (really) award adolescent years into a young college woman and now, into a woman about to get married. How blessed am I to have so many women in my life willing to journey with me through those transitions! 

      So at any rate, she gave me a big hug and expressed a deep congratulations. Perhaps she could tell I was nervous. Perhaps she had been thinking this since I sent the house my announcement in the mail. I'm not quite sure, but she did always have a knack for telling me what I needed to hear. That's when she told me she felt that I made the right choice. She expressed knowing that I, for certain, had prayed about this. And then she told me that there was no question in her heart that I was struggling with choosing between some great communities. At the time when I was struggling the most, she believes that's when Joe entered my life. She truly believes he entered my life to ease the confusion of my heart. And when she said this, without ever having a conversation quite like it before, I felt instant peace wash over my heart. 

      My day was filled with adventure, as any day spent with the Sisters really is. I was able to welcome "home" a dear friend of mine, laugh with the Sisters I hadn't seen for a while, and yes, even rise to a rare occasion of dancing in the rain (by which I mean, chasing a Sister outside to help her with blow away chairs during a storm). Around suppertime, my nerves began to get at me again as slowly but surely more and more sisters began to join us for our picnic supper. That's when I took the chance to go run in the rain. We came back inside, soaked but laughing together. We squeezed puddles out of our hair/veil and laughed some more as we considered what any passersby may have thought. In that moment, I was set free again from my anxieties. I had strength to face the crowd of sisters who all knew about my engagement. 

     I guess I was expecting them to each express their disappointment that I wasn't entering religious life despite the fact that Joe and I have been dating for three years and most have met him. I guess I was also expecting some to express questions and I just wasn't ready to answer questions en masse. But my worrying was for naught. As I tried to stay away from any spotlight, sisters, quietly and seemingly, one by one, came to me, gave a hug and told me how proud they are or how happy they are for me and Joe. Some even asked me to retell each detail surrounding the night we were engaged. I was surrounded not only by a grand amount of support, but a huge, loving family. 

      In those moments of brief conversation with many of the sisters, I felt a peaceful transition. As my bridal party would say, "from convent to Conte." There is no doubt in my heart that I am meant to be with Joe; he is my best friend. But there was fear of disappointing others. Some would tell me, never let that fear inhabit me from living my life. But again, these women have surrounded me for a very long time. They were the teachers, mentors, tutors who helped raise me. They were companions on a journey of prayer and introspection. And again, I am so blessed they allowed me to stay a part of their lives despite life changes and transitions from teenager to college student to young woman out in the world. 

       After our picnic supper, we headed to the Chapel I had fallen in love with so many years ago. I was surrounded by the voices of beautiful women, each with their own story, singing loudly and proudly during Praise and Worship Adoration. At one moment, the sun came straight through the stained glass window and I felt, shined right on my face. My found my heart so lifted in prayer by those around me and indeed loved, so incredibly loved. If ever I doubted God's love for me, in that moment I was reassured that I am far from a disappointment, far from being disowned and far from a need to worry. These Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth reminded me the truth of their charism: family. 

       I was greatly assured last night by the love of others, the greatest of hugs, and the peace given. As we parted for the night, one sister reminded me: we need holy families. You felt called by the Holy Family once, you're being called again, just in a way you never expected. And there is so much truth in those words. Yes. This is a call to be a Holy Family, no matter where I am, from convent to Conte! 

Charism Connection

"Discernment has no beginning or ending; it lasts a lifetime.

It can change form, however, from a conversation and prayer

between you and God, to conversation and prayer

between you, God and your future spouse."

     Last weekend, I had the pleasure (truly, it is a pleasure) of traveling with five of my students and a colleague to Cleveland, Ohio, for our annual CSSJ Leadership Conference. It is during this conference that our students learn not only the importance of the charism, mission and history of the Sisters of Saint Joseph, but also the importance of being an active participant in it and furthering it through their lives as lay people. It is also during this conference that I am reminded of the importance of lay people ministering in the church. And thus, my most recent reflection. 

     There is no question that this blog began as a blog documenting the serious discernment of a young woman trying to find her vocation. There is no question that this blog remains the documentation of a young woman seriously discerning her vocation in life. Do I sound redundant? I have gone back and forth with deciding to blog about my recent engagement. We went back and forth about posting it on social media. But like all things, we took it to prayer and made a decision best for our hearts. So, I write this not because I feel I need to explain myself. But rather, because in the depths of my heart, I feel the need to express my blessings. 

      Joe and I decided to not post our engagement until about two weeks after the fact. He proposed to me on my 25th birthday and for about two weeks, we visited with friends and family, made phone calls and enjoyed sharing our joy as a newly engaged couple. We decided on a date, we decided on a venue, but we were still discerning how to spread the news to those we might not be able to visit or call; it would simply take our entire engagement to let people know. We decided that the easiest way was the make a subtle post on Facebook.

      I'll be honest, I was unsure about it. I didn't want to answer questions I felt people shouldn't ask. But God works in ways I will never understand. We were only met with complete support. You see, despite having been in a dating relationship with Joe for three years, I had previously very seriously discerned religious life. Many people who knew me in different ways, knew that I was always open about that discernment. But, I was also very open about dating Joe, too. Believe me when I say that dating him took a year of intense prayer and saying yes to him asking me to be his wife took three long years of prayer, getting to know him and myself better, and building an atmosphere of trust and love. It was far from a rash decision. 

      

     In the middle of our dating relationship, I came home from a trip with some of my friends who also happen to be religious sisters. I remember asking Joe to walk with me and talk with me about my experience. I was trying to break up with him. He held my hand as I told him how I felt and he simply said, "I will be there for you in the church when you make your vows, whether to the church or to me. I'll always be there for you." Needless to say, that set my confused heart free. Knowing that he would support me in either vocation was enough to make me love him even more, as cliche, perhaps, as it is to say. He's simply been one of my biggest supports for seven years. 

     And so, our relationship developed even more. We prayed together and on our own. My discernment, my conversation between me and God, changed forms. It wasn't just me and God anymore; it was me, God and Joe. And I have no doubt that God's hand has been in our relationship the entire time. Before we started our exclusive dating relationship, we both went to different countries. I went for mission work and he went for a pilgrimage. We took those two weeks apart to pray for each other and about our relationship. Simply put, I missed him. God has blessed me with Joe as my best friend in so many circumstances. He's the one who goes to every school function with me and seemingly loves my students more than I could love them. He cheers their teams on, gives them standing ovations and supports their charity events. He spends late nights with me shopping for retreat and sacrifices so much for me. He works long days and still makes it a priority to spend as much time as he can with me. 

     I think the most important thing about Joe is that he makes me laugh. Whether we are singing at the top of our lungs to Broadway music, kicking each other under the table as we play cards or making up stories just to pass the time, he makes me smile. He makes friends with every person he meets and constantly tries to cheer up the cashiers at Target. He tells funny stories and always tries to get people to smile. And when I'm having a really bad day, he just reminds me of all the funny moments we've shared together. He brings out the best in me. 

      So how does this connect with my CSSJ Leadership Conference? Well there's one small link. Sister Phyllis told the students that learning charism, mission and history is important because it's as if the founding sisters have found these students and said, "tag, you're it." On the last night in Cleveland, Sister Phyllis and I drove together in the car and I got to fill her in on the last year of my life. We had met three years previously and stay in touch as much as time allows. After filling her in, I thanked her. Not only for listening, but for teaching me, hands-on, how important lay people are in the ministry of the church. 

      While I had always believed that all vocations are equal in value, I didn't realize how important the lay ministry is in furthering the charism, mission and history of the sisters for whom one might work or by whom one was taught. In my own life, I have known well four communities of religious sisters. When I was discerning religious life, I was always unsure which community fit me best. I knew that was going to be the hardest decision and in truth, I felt connected to each so deeply. But in my conversation with Sister Phyllis she told me how special it makes me to have had all these experiences with so many communities. 

       Indeed, there are many aspects of each community that I hold deep in my heart. I've always felt so deeply connect to the Eucharist, family has remained an important staple in my life, I have a deep Marian devotion and I often invoke creative hope in many moments of life, but I also have a sincere passion for social justice. Besides, in each community there is some connection to Saint Joseph. So now, I have my own Joseph and within me burns these charisms, these missions, and yes, these histories. As a lay-woman, not only do I get to share these with my future spouse, but also with our children and with the people who I encounter day in and day out. I can further the charisms, missions and histories in simple conversation but also in the way I live. And this, perhaps, is why God sent me on this journey. 

      I know that I will never be able to figure out why God gave me this journey and I know that I still have so much to learn. But I know that God has never left my side, has never stopped answering my prayers, and will never stop being present in my life. I know that the outside world may be confused about my journey, but it's my journey and that journey includes Joe, and I am at peace with this beautiful journey. There is a story, there is trust, there is peace. And no, discernment is not over, I have not "made my decision" as if I was the cliffhanger everyone was waiting for. There are many decisions to be made, discernment will not end, it simply includes one more person. And with all this talk of charism, mission and history, well let me just say. My charism is this: Luke 2:19, my mission is furthering the church and my history is a herstory, but I'll save that for another time. 

Dear Seniors 2017

"What lies before us and what lies behind us

are small matters compared to what lies

within us."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

My dear Seniors of the Class of 2017, 

They say you never fall in love twice the same way. I guess they are right, whoever "they" may be. I never think I'll love the next class as much as I love the last and each year I'm proven wrong yet again. YOU have changed my life. You have shown me to fall in love with so many things all over again. You are amazing. You are a little bit of everything for me. 

Three years I've been blessed to know you beautiful people. Three long years and yet it seems not enough. Are you really graduating? Yes. Yes, you are. And you are headed to change the world for the best. So many of you are staying close by and yet others are traveling distances. I'm grateful and so blessed to know and trust that the world is a better place simply because you're in it. You will be doing great things with every step you take. I'm already so incredibly proud of you. 

You have changed my worldview in so many ways. Whether it was by surprising me with your hidden talents in chorus or on the stage or even on your teams. You've performed beyond expectation. You've danced faster, sung better and shown me that all I have to do is cut loose. You've encouraged me to attend more shows and concerts than I ever have. But you've also beat records like never before. I've never followed a team so far in champs or cheered louder on the sidelines as you run past me. When asked who my favorite players are, you're number one forever. I'm sure a few of you will be famous one day! 

You've taught me to love greater in so many ways. You're never failing dedication to service on nights when you're supposed to be doing so much homework astounds me. You have never ending energy to help those in need and give of yourself so selflessly. You laugh and love out loud and remind me that the finest things in life are the moments shared joyfully with one another. Just think about all the lives you have changed all over the city, the state and yes, even the country. Keep serving with your beautiful hearts.

You have taught me to laugh and to laugh loudly. Whether it's by showing me the latest funny video you found on the internet or telling me about your latest adventures, you have reminded me to take time out of the often too busy and too serious day to laugh. You've reminded me to stop stressing so much and to take a breath every now and then. Unless, of course, I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe. Thank you for showing me your authentic joys and laughter. You are some of the weirdest people I know, but you know, for me, that weird is more of a compliment. Keep being so true to yourself. That's the best part about you. 

You have taught me to love greatly. You have also prepared me for motherhood way too prematurely, but I know, I know...I'll thank you later. There is so much about you to love. Your unique personalities. Your many gifts and talents. Your funny stories. Your hearts. Your souls. And your hugs. I've never been showered with so many hugs until your class came around. You have taught me to love greatly because of your example. You love beyond measure, without hesitation and without judgement. You love despite flaws. You remind me how to open my heart each day and be vulnerable. Thank you. 

And finally, you have taught me to keep the faith. You are one of the most faith-filled classes I have met. You have faith in each other - you are each other's biggest cheerleader. You have faith in yourself - you know you can do anything you put your mind and heart to. You have faith in God - you trust he will carry you through the deepest valleys. Watching you grow in this faith, especially on retreat, is one of my greatest blessings. So many of you were apprehensive about retreat and yet, when you came back home at the end, I could see the faith in you restored. You have reminded me to never stop giving up - on others, on God and on myself. 

You have changed my life for the best. I am a better person because I have known you. You have surrounded me with so much goodness. I'm not quite sure what I am going to do without the Breakfast Club, the Campus Ministry Groupies, my retreat leaders, my CSC girls, and the rest of you. You have been my greatest joys, my happiest memories, and my best times this year. Thank you for your smiles in the hallways, your dedication in the classroom, your affirmations and little note cards everywhere, your gifts, your plenteous visits to Campus Ministry (even if they are only for the snacks) and more. Thanks for sharing your greatest accomplishments with me and letting me rejoice with you as you make it even further in competition, get into your dream colleges, and make yet another landmark in your life. 

The Class of 2018 has big shoes to fill. I cannot wait to see where you take the world with all your adventures and successes. I will continue to cheer you on from the sidelines. Continue to be the amazing, beautiful, wonderful human beings that you are. You are so incredibly loved. And remember, "my love will find you wherever you go." Be Where Your Feet Are, kids. 

Love Always, 

Miss G 

The Art of Lingering

"This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love

and that love could make people do so many different things.

I never knew there were so many ways to say good-bye."

- Maggie Stiefvater, "Linger"

     Growing up, I was the queen of Girl Scout Sing-A-Longs around the campfire at camp or at any given night of meetings. Anything from the "Princess Pat" to the "Littlest Worm," I basically had every word memorized and if not, I always had friends nearby to help me out. We loved the fast-paced ones, the ones with dance moves and of course, the sillier the better. We really weren't big fans of the slower songs. Honestly, we would rather tell ghost stories of Cabin #4 or Mary of the Lake. Trust me, I was really good at scaring the Juniors. Remember that one time...nah, never mind. Girl Scouts was my favorite thing in the world, a place I could really be myself. I loved camping, I loved being outdoors, I loved learning all about nature. Girl Scouts most certainly gave me the skills and love for the outdoors I have today. But there is one thing Girl Scouts has reminded me of more and more now as I am older and the message lies in that one slow song we actually liked: Mhmmm....I Wanna Linger. 

       Lingering - it's a lost art. Honestly, most of us were probably told many times in our lives, "stop dawdling," "hurry up," "we're running late," and more. I know I was and now I'm so time paranoid that I will give myself more than ample time to get ready, get out the door and make it to my destination with much time to spare. I hate being late, and I constantly feel like I need to be somewhere or do something. Now, one might think that being this type of way, I would be severely annoyed by late people, but that does not really bother me. Truly, it's only when I am running late (and mind you its just later than my projected time and I'm probably still going to be early just not sixteen hours early) that I get flustered. But slowly, I've learned the art of slowing down and lingering a bit. 

     My work study boss in college was consistently lingering. She would stop on our errands to talk to every single person, in English or in Spanish. She would ask questions about their lives, ask how their families were, and more. It was as if she every single person on campus personally. Now a days, I strive for that in my own life. I purposefully walk out of my office at the change of classes so I can greet as many students as I can, and though it's hard, I try to do so by name.  But there's more to lingering than just this. 

     When I visited South America, they would tell us one time but it wouldn't be until moments later (sometimes upward of a half hour) that whatever we had been invited to would begin. People there took their time doing anything and everything. The first week there, it was rough - why weren't people moving, where were the buses, how come nothing was ever on time. But by weeks three and four, we strolled casually down the streets after school and took our time visiting with the students, the teachers and naturally, our new friends. We lingered a little longer day by day and loved a little differently, each day, too. 

     Now, after years of slowly but surely breaking my anxiety about lingering, I linger a little longer. I find myself "dawdling" a little more and more each day. Sometimes, I feel the rush of "I got to go right now" and then attempt to rush off to something that, yes, probably could have waited. But there are more moments of my lingering now than my rushing off to the next very small, minuscule, minute thing. I think back to all the times I rushed out of a conversation with someone who is no longer around and I wish I could have learned to linger a little bit sooner. But life has it's lessons and lingering is one of them. 

      On the road to Emmaus, two of Jesus' apostles were walking and conversing when Jesus appeared is their presence. Sound familiar? It was the Gospel yesterday, the Third Sunday of Easter. I think about what would have happened if the two disciples were rushing off somewhere. Would they have said to the Jesus they did not recognize, "Sorry, gotta go spread the news."? I'm not sure. But I do know that Jesus and the disciples lingered together for seven miles and then for supper as well, when Jesus broke the bread. Imagine if the two disciples drove through the supper just like we do at McDonald's, Chipotle or even Wawa. The disciples and Jesus have taught us so many times, the art of lingering. There are so many instances of lingering in Scripture, and yet, we, whoever we may be, Christian or non, do not linger. 

     I have learned to linger. I linger with my students in the hallway. I linger with them when they pop in and need a friendly, non-academic conversation. I linger with my friends when they need prayer. I linger with my family, I linger with my colleagues at lunch. I linger a lot more often now, because if the disciples hadn't lingered on the road to Emmaus, Jesus never would have been revealed to them. When I linger, I know Jesus will be revealed to me. Mhmm...I wanna linger. 

Take Him to the Nunnery

"A stranger's hand clutched in mine
I'll take this chance, so call me blind
I've been waiting all my life...

just take my hand.

Touch my soul and hold it tight."

- Tori Kelly

    Last week I spent five days with some of my students in Pittsburgh on Alternative Spring Break. As part of this adventure, we  tapped into a Discernment Chat with a dear friend of mine, S. Angela. We logged onto A Nun's Life Ministries and began to ask S. Angela a number of questions about discernment and religious life. My students had been immersed in a variety of service projects and one of them included working with the elderly sisters of the community. This vocation chat was a good way for them to ask questions about religious life and get to know the community a little better. It helped greatly that I knew S. Angela. 

     One of the questions the girls asked her was if she ever dated before entering religious life. She answered yes and said that he supported her in her journey to religious life. We joked and said, "Life Goals: find you a boy who will support your discernment." The girls enjoyed listening to the story and found it fascinating that many sisters dated before entering a specific community (this was a trend they found in talking to various sisters of various religious communities). What was unique, however, was how the sister broke up (or didn't) with her boyfriend before entering. It was quite shocking to my students that so many sisters dated and of course, I said - thank goodness they did. 

     The activity was good for my students and it was great for me to be able to support my friend in her debut on the discernment chat. Of course, I was texting her at the same time, chatting about life. I told her that I had tears welling up in my eyes when she talked about the support hew boyfriend gave her when she was discerning. It home too closely and it made me miss that special person in my life. As we have had many conversations about my discernment, too. He always told me - I'll be in the church on the day you make your vows, whether to God or to me. Life goals, right? How did I get so lucky? I'm not really sure. But I've been blessed a hundredfold, that's for sure. 

    So he supports me, up and down. He knows that I love the sisters and will always have nun-radar. I will always strike up conversation with the sisters and I have mannerisms that are very nunny. He's even said to me, "that's very nunny of you." What a compliment. He knows that God is the top guy in my life and prayer life will be a requirement to our relationship always; adoration is my happy place and given the choice between daily Mass and going to breakfast, I'll take Mass. He is by my side through it all, even if it means getting up extra early, to drive to my house so we can go to Mass at the convent together. Yes, you read that correctly. This Sunday, we went to Mass at the convent together. 

     

    I had mentioned to another friend of mine, who I had just spent the week with, that I would meet her at Mass at the convent on Sunday so I could see her, this time in Philadelphia. The convent was a particularly favorite of mine, one in which I spent much of my high school and even college days. The sisters there have known me since I was a dorky, nerdy 14 year old and perhaps, in their eyes, I may always be that little girl who loves nuns so much with curly hair. For me, there is so much peace in that little chapel, so many memories and yes, so many tears. Going there always means going home. And it was time I took Joe to visit, so I invited (dragged) him along. 

      As we pulled into the driveway of the convent, I felt a knot twist in my stomach - was I actually bringing a boy to the convent? Yikes. It felt like I was taking him to battle with no armor. Yet at the same time, I felt the necessity to do this. I began to tell him about all the sisters, fun stories of this sister and memories of that sister. I mentioned that it would be a little crowded because there were lots of visitors and that he'd probably meet the Provincial Superior. I could see him getting more and more nervous. We walked in, I signed us into the building and one sister casually mentioned, "Oh you have a male with you." Yes, sister. Indeed I do. Yikes. Then we walked to the Chapel and as I attempted to scan the Chapel for an open pew, I heard another sister behind me whisper hello. So I introduced the two and then we found a seat. 

     After Mass, I could see so many heads turn as we walked into the dining room. I said hello to many of my friends, introducing Joe and as such a gentlemen, he chatted briefly with each sister. Then, naturally, he met the Provincial Superior. I said hello first, she hugged me tightly and then gave me the eyes that said so much. The "Oh this is the boy" eyes.  Without saying anything, we had a whole conversation. He was terrified. I was enjoying every second of it. Many sisters came over to say hello, chat briefly and move on. Everyone wanted to meet the young man who came to Mass with their Becky. And in the end, I think they all approved. 

      The whole morning, I could only think of S. Angela's discernment chat and of course, all the advice she ever gave me. Joe is, to her, "her favorite boyfriend." Her support to me has been never-ending, through the ups and downs of discernment, as truly all life is discernment. Discernment doesn't end when you make a huge life decision, it includes lots of people and continues on for every aspect of life. Many of the sisters have taught me this and now Joe is apart of life's never-ending discernment. Today, I can reiterate S. Angela "find you a boy who supports you in your discernment..." Better yet, find yourself a boy who will willingly go to Mass at the convent with you! 

I Am So Much More

"We invoke Christian unity because we we invoke Christ. 

We want to live unity: we want to follow Christ and live in His love."

- Pope Francis via @pontifex

     I am 24 years old. By stereotype, I should have a big ego, be concerned about all the right things, and be a protester in my spare time. At least, this is what the media shows me. But instead I am a Pro-Life, Catholic, feminist woman. To so many, this is an oxymoron, because how can I simply be all four of those things? They do not seem to go together. In fact, it seems impossible that it could be so. But I write this blog post after two weeks of personal reflection and lots of prayer. I feel I need to do this. 

    Yesterday, I traveled down to Washington, D.C. and participated in the Annual March for Life. I was there with a colleague and four students. I was there with my extended family members and my immediate family members. I was there with religious brothers and sisters. I was there with Catholics, Christians and non-Christians. I was there with men, women, and children. And I was there with people who do not share my perspective. There was no violence, there was no harm, there was no hatred. I was surrounded by peace and prayer. And yet, I know that it is so hard for many to support me in what I did yesterday.

     Catholics and Christians who consider themselves Pro-Life have been under fire. I have felt the heat of this fire so directly but not in a harsh way. I see it on the internet, on Facebook and Twitter. Things being shared that say, "Dear 15 year old me, I'm sorry you marched for life," "Pro-Life is only Pro-baby," and my favorite, "Don't call yourself a Christian if you are Pro-Life but not Pro-child" (because I'm not really sure what that means!). I read these, I listen to the perspectives of the authors, and I scroll past. I wonder what happened to these people that gave them such a negative perspective of someone like me. I sometimes think, they can't be talking about me. BUT they are. Even those who once considered themselves Catholic post these things and I wonder, how it got this way. Perhaps it's not direct, but I feel the heat of these misconceptions. 

    Let's go back in my personal history for a second; let me tell you who I was and who I've become. I marched for life as a high school student and as a college student. Each time I only went with a few of my friends, because most of my friends didn't share the same perspective. I was never heckled for this and we never engaged in arguments. I have friends now who may not agree with my perspective and yet, I can respect them and they respect me. I also teach high school Theology, specifically Human Sexuality and Social Justice. Because of my experiences, I would say that this is the perfect position for me. Yet I do so with the understanding that the students who sit before may have warped perspectives of Catholicism, may not be Catholic or may have been in situations that seemingly the church may be against. I teach the doctrine of the Catholic Church with gentleness and compassion. It is not treading lightly, but rather doing all this with Love. 

     Now let's talk Jesus. He's my main dude. My students fondly refer to Him as a hipster because He broke stereotypes left, right and sideways. Yet, He did so with Love. That is my call, our call as Catholics. To preach the Gospel with Love, gentleness and compassion. This is something I remind my students daily, especially as we talk about the tough topics. It seems these days, there are more and more tough topics. 

    Catholics have a core belief called, "Catholic Social Teaching." There are seven pillars of CST and all of the social justice topics that have been mentioned these past few weeks in the news are in there. Being Pro-Life is the basis of this core belief and I'm going to briefly explain what that means in the next few paragraphs. Because truthfully, it hurts my heart to hear and see such a bad reputation given to Pro-Lifers. And since I was part of the age group that was the greatest represented yesterday at the March for Life, I need to. 

    Pro-Life is, by definition, "respect for life from conception to natural death." Now, I could give you the scientific reasoning behind why life begins at conception but I'll refrain; there's enough of that out there. But let's start at the basis of the belief. Historically speaking, Pro-Life is most often paralleled with the Supreme Court Ruling of Roe v. Wade which legalized abortion in the United States. Yes, the March for Life is the annual march against this ruling. Yes, it began as a movement to protect the unborn. But no, it is not just the abortion issue. Roe v. Wade took place in 1973. Catholic Social Teaching started forming as a core belief with "The Just War Theory" during the Medieval Ages with St. Joan of Arc and continued with documents like Rerum Novarum in 1891 and so on. CST has been around much longer. Being Pro-life has been a Catholic concept for much longer than 44 years. 

    The Just War Theory is just one of many concepts within Catholic Social Teaching that exhibits the Pro-Life atmosphere of the Catholic Church. The Just War Theory states that unless absolutely necessary, after every peaceful approach has been considered and failed, and if a country or community is in extreme danger should war be declared. Thank you, Joan of Arc, for giving us guidelines for war which basically state that at all costs war should be avoided unless deemed absolutely necessary for protection of human beings. 

     In addition to the Just War Theory there are many other beliefs in CST that state concepts like, "welcoming the stranger and the refugee." If countries in power have the means, the space and the power, countries are obligated by moral reasoning to welcome the refugee with open arms and to protect them from the oppressor. We should also be providing a proper wage for all people to live with all their necessities; there should be no struggle because of low wages. There should be proper healthcare available for all people. There should be no segregation. There should be no racism, sexism, ageism. We should protect the environment and by doing so, protect those who rely on the environment (hey, that's us and all humans because we need oxygen). AND. SO. MUCH. MORE. 

     Yet, I fall into the category, because I proclaim myself Pro-Life, that is none of the above. But, I, in fact, very much am Pro-Life in all of these ways and more. I believe that all human beings, regardless of their distinctions, deserve fair treatment, fair wages, fair opportunities, and fair access to life's necessities. I believe this because I AM A PRO-LIFE, CATHOLIC WOMAN! Yes, this is why. Because my faith is my firm foundation and it is a core belief of my faith to live socially just. 

      Now, of course, I know that so many, perhaps, would still argue that I cannot possibly still be a feminist if I am pro-life and Catholic, especially because stereotypically speaking, the Catholic Church appears to be repressive of women. I beg to differ. I have been elevated to such high esteem by my Church for so many reasons. In fact, I would venture to say that I feel liberated by my Catholic faith as a woman, which is not the common perspective. But here is why being Pro-Life, Catholic and Feminist has led me to feel this way. 

     Now I do not have the time or your attention span long enough to put two courses of material summed up in one blog post. But I can say this. My Catholic faith has led me to believe that I deserve better in terms of my sexuality. I deserve better than to be given birth control as my only options for many health problems (especially because it can lead a woman into even more health problems when she and her spouse attempt to conceive a child). It has taught me that I deserve better than the health care provided at Planned Parenthood (so many of my friends have given me first hand accounts of the lack of health care provided but also the unfair treatment and down right cruelty experienced there). It has taught me that I deserve better than to have my self-worth lie solely in my sexual liberation. Finally, it has taught me that I deserve much better and my future daughters (and sons) deserve much better than to be considered choices. Women deserve better, on this I agree. But we must look for what the better actually is. 

    These past two weeks have been so politically charged and I don't think there will be a calm anytime soon. It has been one thing after the next. But I can promise to my God that I will continue to do what I can to further the Pro-Life message. Every life deserves rights but the greatest right is to live a life to it's fullness. This means, the unborn being born, the refugee and the immigrant being welcome, the homeless being housed, the women being given proper healthcare, the environment being protected and so much more. So please, know that I, as a Pro-Life, Catholic, Feminist Woman stand for the betterment of life for all. Please do not put me in a box created by the media. I am not just pro-baby. I am so much more. I am a sanctuary, a living tabernacle of life.

The Year Without a Mommom

"If you are not living, if you have died, 

all the leaves will fall, 

if will rain upon my soul night and day, 

the snow will burn my heart, 

I shall walk with cold and fire and death and snow, 

my feet will want to march toward where you sleep, 

but I shall go on living, 

because you wanted me to..."

- Pablo Neruda, "La Muerta"

     Perhaps you've seen the very popular Christmas show from the 70s, "The Year Without A Santa Claus." Maybe you remember that Santa Claus decides to take a vacation during Christmas because he doesn't feel that people actually believe in him anymore. Or maybe you remember the argument the Heat Miser has with the Snow Miser in their popular duet. Or maybe you remember that Mrs. Claus attempts to make things right again. Or maybe you remember Jingle and Jangle, the reindeer, Vixen and their friend Iggy who are trying to make people believe again in Southtown. But for me, what I remember the most, is all the chaos when Santa Claus takes a vacation and how nothing seems right at all when this staple character just calls it quits suddenly. 

     Today, January 10th, 2017, marks the one year anniversary of my Mommom's sudden passing. It's been "The Year Without a Mommom." It's been a year of chaos since and there's been many Heat and Snow Misers, Jingles, Jangles, Vixens, Iggys and even multiple Mrs. Clauses. Over all this past year has been filled with people trying to make it right again. But the truth is, when the main character in your life takes a vacation, no one can actually it right again except the person themselves. 

     So many people have openly said that 2016 was the worst year of their lives. As I drove to our New Year's Eve gathering, Joe said something along the lines of, "A lot of people hated this year, but I didn't think it was that bad." To which I responded, more harshly than I ever would intend, "Yeah, but can you understand that for someone like, it was the worst. Ten days into 2016, I lost my best friend." There was silence after that as he put his hand on my shoulder and let tears drip down my face as we continued the drive. 

      Sunday, at Mass, I was overcome with sadness. I couldn't sing. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even go through the motions. I just silently sat at the end of the pew letting tears flow down my face and into one of the many giant, fluffy scarves I own. I was sad and I didn't want to be there. Not because I was mad at God - no, that was never the case. But rather because, last year on a Sunday, I was sitting in Mass, just a few hours before I would get the call that my Mommom was no longer with us. I kept thinking during Mass, what would I have done differently if I had known that in a few hours my Mommom would no longer be alive? Would I still go to the gym? Would I still waste hours driving down the highway to a friend's house? No, probably not. I know where I'd be - her house, with her, holding her hand for what might be the last time. 

       People say death changes you...the experience of death, that is. I've experienced death before and for the longest time, I felt that it helped me feel more. I would say that all the death I've experienced broke my heart open more and more. But nothing broke me more than the death of my Mommom. And to be honest, it changed me in a different way.

      

      She's in everything I do. She's the echo in the halls when I'm walking around school. She's in every quiet second I have. She's in every song on the radio. She's on every road I drive, every corner I turn, every bottle of wine in the wine store. She's in every corner of every room, every line of poetry, every drop of ink I write on every piece of paper. She is in every cup of coffee, every teaspoon of sugar, every ounce of flavor. She is in every tear and every smile. She's in every picture I take, every song I belt out pathetically in the car. She's on every mountain I climb, every waterfall I dance in, every single second of every day. By which I mean, I feel the emptiness of her presence in all this. 

      I haven't spent every moment of the past year in sadness, she wouldn't want that. I just can't help but feel the lack of her presence in every thing I do. I can't help but think that I would have laughed a little more on Thanksgiving, and snuggled a little more at Christmas. I would have made more desserts and more dinners for her. I would have dyed more eggs at Easter time, I would have sang more songs at the family reunion. I would have danced a little harder at every gathering I had with my friends. But something was missing.

     Now I know that many would agree, "Mommom is always with me." But she's not in the sense that I had been so used to for 23 years. I miss her hugs. I miss her smothering me with kisses. I miss her directing the show in the kitchen on the holidays. I miss the sound of her voice. I know she's here. I know I can always talk to her. But it's just not the same. Mommom's death changed me. It made me more conscious of who I am in relation to her - in so many senses, I am my grandmother's granddaughter. It made me okay with letting myself feel whenever I need to feel - when something reminds me of her and I feel sad, I don't hold back tears. It made me tougher - I'm not sure if I like it, but it made me tougher. It made me even more of a family girl - when I hang out with people, I want to hang out with their families, and as much as my family drives me crazy, I actually like when we sit around the table and roast the nearest human being. It made me more conscious of a lot of things, more than I can even mention here. Some people say that when you lose someone close like that you stop feeling. But for me, I think I started. 

     The year without a Mommom has been anything but easy. I've had so many happy moments, joyous ones, ones filled with laughter. Yet, her void has been felt in every second, of every minute, of every day. I miss everything about her from her shaking her head at me in complete misunderstanding, to her boisterous hugs and kisses, to her random Facebook comments. Mommom had the ability to always make me feel like I was important, that I had a fan club (a fan club of one, but still). She always knew what I was up to, always asked questions about my adventures or my latest interest, and supported me in everything I did. She would have known what I did on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and every weekend. She wouldn't ask what I was doing, but rather, she would ask about how it went. She'd ask, "how was class/soup kitchen/tutoring/school/Joe's?" She just knew what I was up to and made sure I knew she cared. 

      I miss that. I miss it because without her I've felt lonely. I've felt lonelier than ever, despite being almost always surrounded by people.  The felt of being lonely in a crowded room - a daily occurrence. And yet, here I am, sitting at my desk, with the sun shining directly on me. It's almost too bright for me to see the computer screen. Her love was like that - so bright, so obnoxious, so big, and so warm. I know it's her. I know she's with me always, of this I am sure. But that doesn't mean some days are harder than others and some days I just want to cry because I miss her. She was a beautiful woman who loved so much and I hope, if there's one thing I do with my life, it's love as greatly as she did. How rare and beautiful it is, truly to exist! 

New Year, New Perspective

"Dare to be the best you can -

at all times, dare to be."

- Steve Maraboli

    The memes have come and gone, much like the year 2016 itself, about how terrible a year it was. Generally one with a sunny disposition and positive outlook on life, I couldn't help but agree. The amount of loss I suffered, starting only ten days into the new year, was astronomical in my perspective. From my best friend, my mommom, to many other family members, friends and classmates, the deaths were too many, too quickly. It was a rocky year for other reasons, too, and overall I felt like I fell into the practice of finding the negative more than finding the positive. I was down on my self, I wasn't very happy most of time and I probably brought others down by being tired, exhausted and downright miserable at times. For a girl who tends to like even years better than odd years, I definitely was not a fan of 2016.
    So at midnight on December 31, I rang in the new year with some friends and a dog. It was quieter than usual, but still a good ringing in none the less. New Year's Eve is one of my favorite nights of the year. There's magic or wonder and awe present. I never spent NYE in a bustling, loud place. Usually it was with close friends or even alone in my room. Since I almost never let my eyes see the other side of the night, staying up til midnight was always a big deal, too. It's the latest I ever stay up and there's something so amazing about watching time change - one year to the next. Now some may say that the minute, seconds even in which the new year comes, is nothing more than that - a minute, a few seconds. But for me it is quiet, silence and suddenly the loud, fruitful, celebration in which a new year is born. The gentle reminder that with each death comes brand new life. There's fireworks and noise makers and pots and pans and NYE kisses and hugs and well wishes. How can you not love a celebration like that? All the noise for just another minute.
     We spent our New Year's Day sleeping in, eating donuts and drinking coffee (which led me to my first resolution: eat more consciously), and finally deciding to take a hike. Four friends and a dog hiking. Sounds like the title of my next big seller by which I mean, the next very boring story I tell in the faculty lunch room for the next week. But hey, a girl can dream. It was warmer than usual in January, temps flirting with 50. We were ready for a great few hours in the woods. We started in Valley Forge, hiking up Mt. Misery, realizing slowly but surely and quite stubbornly, that we were all out of shape. Which led me to my next resolution: hike more mileage, gain more muscle strength! We hiked to the end of the park and decided to keep going on a trail called Horse Shoe Trail. About 2.5 miles out of the park, we realized the true length of this trail: 140 miles to Harrisburg. Needless to say, we turned around, taking the low trail (once back in the park) back to the parking lot. For a brief 45 minutes, girls separated from boys, taking what we each thought was the best way back to car. A little friendly competition, which ended in the girls successfully making it back and the boys needing to be picked up by car since they got lost. But, we won't hold it over their heads for much longer. We ended our day with dinner...again, please see resolution number one.
     We laughed, we talked, we spent the day without worrying (resolution #5 - stress less, be blessed), we spent some time in silence, in wonder and awe, and listening, perhaps, only the heart beat of each other, found in the sound of our footsteps. It was a beautiful day and I wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other day. Nature is my favorite place to be. I spent the day in a beautiful place, with beautiful people, in a beautiful way. What more could I ask for? We documented some of the 24 hours together in joyous videos and pictures, but only because one of my goals was to make more home videos. You know, so my future family members can enjoy all the stories I have after I've forgotten them (please note: not a resolution, but more so, #lifegoal). I felt incredibly blessed and even though I was beginning to feel a cold coming on, I was happy. Stuffy and happy.
     The beginning of a cold became a full cold by Monday morning, and I was grateful for an additional day off to recoup as much as possible. I went to Mass and spent some time with the Sisters at St. Katherine's since I hadn't seen them all break (not the norm for me!). I had to bail out on the rest of the day, though, since the cold really was bogging me down minute by minute. A day spent snuggled in bed with my dog was what the rainy day called for. When I woke up, I decided it was time to get cracking on some resolutions, some goals and some writing. I opened a fresh journal and from the comfort of my own bed, re-visited the warmer, sunny weather, the mountains and foothills of Valley Forge, and of course, the laughter and stories from yesterday. Now we all know that writing down goals makes them more tangible and so, I did it. I wrote them down. In addition to the three I've already mentioned, I also have #3 write more often, #4 deepen my prayer life and #6 do something (anything) big and life-changing. It's day three of the new year and I can say that I'm well on my way with #1, 2, 3, and 5. As for 4 and 6, well maybe it's because I'm not the only one involved that I'm off to a slow start of accomplishment. But hey, 4 out of 6 ain't bad.
     I never was one for resolutions but as I get older, I find, there's always a reason to do better, to do more. And I found that if I make one big resolution, I can find little ways to make it happen. So my umbrella resolution, whether or not I maintain 1-6, is to be more mindful of the beauty around me - the beauty of God, of others and of self. Beauty is my word of reflection this year and I pray that I'll be able to be more open to finding beauty, even in the debbie downer moments. I hope and pray and that I'll be able to look at the new life after death and not focus on the death. And I pray that 2017 really becomes the beautiful year I am expecting of it.
     People often say, "New Year, New Me." But I've learned in recent years to be true to the authentic me. Of course, in order to be authentically true to myself, I need to find out who I am. And I've accomplished that - I am so self-aware these days. And besides, I like who that person is when she is authentic (note: not when I'm grumpy or not being truly me). So why, new year, new me? Instead, I'm choosing to say, "New Year, New Perspective." And that perspective will be putting on glasses that show all things as beautiful. Call them rose-colored, if you must. But for me and my year, they will show beauty. Please know of my prayers for you as you start out your new year. May you, too, find reason to see beauty instead of darkness. Peace.