Homeward

"I have learned that if you need to leave a place that you have lived in, 

and loved and all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it in any way 

except a slow way. Leave it the fastest way you can."

- Beryl Markham

     This is my most favorite time of the school year. While I have always been giddy at the thought of beginning a school year and while it has always been a confirmation that I am in the exact profession I was intended to be in, the end of the year, especially in High School, is the most beautiful. I teach Seniors and while I work with all levels in our school, the Seniors are so special to me. I finally have them in class, I get to spend time with them doing community service, and I get to watch them mature over the years through retreat. But there is one retreat that is most dear to me and that is our Junior Training Retreat.

      Tonight would have been the second night of our JTR. But alas, we are not there. As a result of missing one of my most favorite places, I spent some time reflecting on the goodnesses I have received this year as a result of JTR 2019. One year ago, the current senior retreat team was experiencing the love of retreat for the first time. What makes it so incredibly beautiful is that they each consciously put so much effort into wanting to be there. Because of this, they are more open, more willing, more vulnerable. I don't find myself waiting for "that moment" when it all clicks because for these students, they get it the moment they walk off the bus. And of course, I get to share a place where I was once a retreatant and then a leader and now the Campus Minister. It is a place that is so special.
      These girls become the Campus Ministry team and thus, I get to work closely with them over their senior year. We pray often together, we explore new music together, and we share the state of our hearts many times over. They are the ones that fill the office with joy, laughter and tears. They are the ones that love deep and strong. When I see them in the hallway, I know they are spreading love with every step they take. When I see them with their peers, I know they are a level above in spirit and grace (oftentimes, above adults, as well). They are special and so incredibly unique. They share magic wherever they go. It would be during this time that I would be getting ready to plan a few senior events with them - Baccalaureate Mass, Graduation Practices, Senior Recognition, Senior Luncheon, and so one. I would be praying with them before their AP tests. I would be taking my classes for walks on nice days and having instruction outside. And we would be preparing for and executing the final retreat of the year, where we would initiate the Juniors into their roles as Senior Retreat Leaders.
       I am missing them and being in school so much right now. It has been such a blessing to be home with my family, but as my husband said, "You are still losing time with others as you gain time with us." I have spent every waking hour with my family; that is the family that shares my last name. But students become like family. They become your children in a way. And sometimes they treat you the same.

    I recently looked up at the calendar on my fridge to check the date when I realized that I hadn't changed it.  It still had planned events from March. That's when we left school and thus, that's when time seemed to freeze. If I had known on March 12th, that I was never going to have my office filled with those special girls, I would have hugged each one a little tighter. I would have reminded them that they are so incredibly worthy, beautiful and loved. I would have smiled a little longer. I would have given them one last little word of wisdom. But I didn't know and neither did they. It seems so unfair in so many ways. I cannot describe the feeling other than I feel a certain kind of emptiness without my students around. I know many other teachers feel this way. Our everyday life, our life breath, was suddenly ripped from our grasp before we had any idea of what was happening. We left the places where we have lived, loved and buried our yesteryears, in a flash. And for some, ripping off the bandaid was just that; a small amount of pain and adjustment to new life. But for many, it has left a sting and an a wound and a pain. It hurts. For us and for them.
     Despite this, however, these students remind me of home - that is school. Home is not a place but the people that make it feel like home. Through their emails, there little Remind texts and their cards. They remind me that home can be felt even when we are not together. And they remind me that I am doing that for them. Home is this beautiful place we are trying so hard to maintain in this place. But we are doing it together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLit-C4Gl8g

Life Empowers: Pro-life is Pro-Woman

"Wow! How old is your baby? Is this her first March for Life?"

"It's her second!"

 

      If you have a teenager, teach teenagers or are a teenager, you know that water bottle stickers have been all the rage recently. They are a means for a person to silently describe to others how he or she likes to be perceived. Being a high school teacher, I hopped on the bandwagon and decorated my hydro flask (*tsk tsk tsk* trust me, I am far from being a VSCO girl) a few years ago. Among my stickers that proclaim my love for nature, hiking, teaching, Canada, and Jesus, there is one sticker that I put right at the top "Pro-life=Pro-woman." Having gone to an all girl's high school and now teaching in one, I felt that I needed to state that my feminist perspective includes being Pro-Life (not just at the prenatal stage, by the way). It is a most unpopular perspective, especially as evidenced by the media, but I stand firm in my conviction.

      After discovering that the theme for the March for Life was "Life Empowers: Pro-life is Pro-woman," I knew I had to get there this year. I have gone almost every year since I was Sophomore in high school. My family has a very long history of supporting the Pro-life movement. It is in my blood and soul. But how was I going to juggle going and caring for my infant daughter? A myriad of scenarios ran through my mind until I settled on this: I would go with my dad and some of his KOC brothers and bring my baby girl. There was no question that she would come with me. She may be only 6 months old, but she will be a strong female icon. And so we suited up, packed the diaper bag a little more than usual, and headed down to DC on the morning of the March for Life. 

     The year before, I marched with my students and fellow colleagues while being about 4 months pregnant. This year, I was a baby-wearing mama with a 6 month old baby girl. I shamelessly fed her at the cathedral on a bench in the crypt which faced the altar during Mass. I snuggled her all day long as I carried her about 4 miles, rode with her on the train, navigated the crowds and pointed out to her every neat DC tourist attraction we could see. But then we stood on Constitution Avenue for about two hours, waiting for the March to begin. It was here that I found myself having so many beautiful conversations. 

      Perhaps my two favorite comments were the above quotation and another, "you don't even need a sign; she IS THE sign." I have always been so staunchly pro-life. But after feeling the growth of another human being in my womb, I find it so hard to understand this world we live in where life in the womb is not respected. I question how people can advocate for those at the border, for the environment, for the poor and homeless but not for life in the womb. I question this because those who are Pro-Life are often questioned if they, too, would stand for these things. The answer is yes. And some times I find myself saying, "I am pro-life, but not just for babies..." as if I have to defend why life in the womb is worth advocating for. I hear far too often that life in the womb isn't life. But I can tell you first hand that the child within is so full of life.

     Our dear daughter was so full of life in the womb and even more so now. I will forever vividly remember the first time I felt her move within me - I was sitting on the couch in our apartment, awaiting a snow day announcement. There she was making bubbles in the womb. Then again, when I saw her move on our ultrasounds. The technician kept telling us what a wild child we had, that she wouldn't stay still or move into the right spot. And later in our pregnancy when I got to listen to her heartbeat for an hour every week. I could do nothing more than sit in amazement as I watched my belly dance and I listened to her heartbeat simultaneously. She was so much alive in the womb. And she is so much alive now, today. I listen to her breathing, her laughter, her coughing, her coos and her giggles. She is happy and so incredibly alive. 

     After the experience of carrying the gift of life within me for 9 full months (thank you, punctual on time, child), I can only continue to advocate life in the womb even more. Pregnancy has empowered me than any other experience I could imagine. I was able to do things like I had never been able to do before. I was able to feel strong, whole, powerful, glorious and more. Motherhood has empowered me even more - my body is one that provides for my child, nourishment, comfort, safety and more. By bringing life into this world, I have been empowered. I am woman, hear me sing.

     Attending the March for Life this year was a life-changing and a life-affirming experience. Not because of any political agenda addressed, but rather because I walked with my father, my mother-in-law, my sister, my parish family and above all, my daughter. I walked with her because as a result of her life, I have been empowered. I walked so that she grows to know she is powerful. I walked so that she speaks up for those who cannot speak. I walked to bear witness by my body that life is real and true in the womb and out of the womb. 

     I have been simmering on my reflection on the March for some time now; almost three weeks. But after this weekend's Superbowl, I felt extremely compelled to write. It is no coincidence that the underlying message of the Superbowl this weekend, was also (supposedly) female empowerment. I have seen many a feminist address the issue from both perspectives, both sides giving legitimate perspective. However, I will say that for me, I saw this as a direct attack on women. With each commercial I watched that was supposedly promoting female empowerment, I felt like my intelligence was being insulted (i.e. the olay women in space commercial). And when I watched the halftime show, while holding my daughter, sitting next to my mother in law and husband, I had lots of questions. I wondered why scantily clad clothing was being promoted on national television but I can't breastfeed my baby in public without having to jump on the defensive. Tell me why we there was such purposeful outfit differences between the two headliners, the male back up singers and the children. From my perspective, this was not a few hours dedicated to the empowerment of women, but rather an attack. After feeling so empowered as a woman, a life-bearer and a mother, I then felt disgusted with the fact that I will never look like that a 50. But I don't want to. I want my body to show that it has born and given life to many children. 

     Society tells women today that in order to be empowered, we need to wear whatever we want, put on a show for others, bear children only at a designated time and place (and by all means, they must never inhibit our careers), and fight other women over things that are supposedly empowering. I am exhausted by having to defend my choice of motherhood, my choice of nourishing my child, my choice of bringing life into this world in the middle of my career, my choice of raising my daughter with feminist ideals that support the pro-life movement (and you can believe me that I will raise my sons this way, too, if God should gift me them). But the devil never makes any fight worth fighting an easy one. So with the might of the greatest feminists who have gone before me (my grandmother) and those who stand next to me (my aunts, my sisters, my students), I will fight for a pro-life nation that protects the life of the womb - the unborn, the obgyn healthcare for women, the mothers. We live in a world we cannot afford to be anything but pro-life. Our female empowerment depends on it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwBRj5-HJN4 

The Most Beautiful Thing

"I was blessed to see the most beautiful thing, 

and it wasn't the Rockies."

- Deacon T

      On the rare occasion that we attend a Vigil Mass, I always find it a bit hard to focus. I am so accustomed to starting my Sundays or Feast Days off with Mass and quiet that I find it hard to be centered after a long day of noise and activity. Despite this, New Year's Eve is one of those times we attend the vigil Mass. We were among the few and far between; I could count the amount of young people on my two hands. There were barely any families. I was finding it even harder to focus because of this small gathering of church. But God found my attention anyway. 

     Our deacon opened his homily be inviting the parishioners to reflect on the good things that happened to us in 2019. Immediately, Joe and I looked at our baby - she was, by far, the best part of 2019 for us. He then went on to describe the beautiful sights he was blessed to see on his family vacation over the summer - his favorite family trip. As he went on, however, he said, "As beautiful as these sights were, they were not the most beautiful thing." He then described the wonder and awe that encompassed him at the birth of his son. 

     He described how amazing it was to witness this but also how incredible it was to see others love on his son as they visited, learned of his birth, and more. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I squeezed our little girl a bit tighter on my lap. Yes. This was exactly what I had experienced  and it was exactly what was flooding through my mind. Every little detail of the day Hannah was born until the moment she was placed in my arms was vividly playing. I remember every second of the day and evening. I was so happy to have that night with our new little family; just the three of us. It was perfect.

     So why did Deacon mentioned this most beautiful event? Because New Year's Eve is the Vigil of the Solemnity of Mary. He likened the experience he had to what might have been for the Holy Family. If he, and I, and others like us, are in such wonder and awe of our own babies at their births, how much more wonder and awe must have filled Mary and Joseph's hearts at the sight of THE HOLY CHILD. Did they cry at the sight of this baby child like so many have? Did they hold the Christ Child to their chests and kiss his little baby head? Did they watch this baby sleep next to them in the manger? Did Mary sleep at all during those first 24 hours? Did she worry about how she would feed him or cloth him or change him? Had Joseph ever changed or held a baby before? It was if suddenly, I was taken back to the night Christ was born via the birth of my own child.
    Imagining and reflecting on what might it have been like for the Holy Family as they welcomed the birth of their Christ Child has been a beautiful journey of my faith. It leads me not just down the wonder and awe of the birth of Christ but also His infancy. Each morning my baby girl stares, smiles and now talks at the crucifixes that are hung above her bassinet. I wholeheartedly believe that she is praying, that she KNOWS Jesus. I wonder if her image of God is that of another baby friend or if her image of God is of a friendly, bearded man who kisses her head all the time, like her daddy. Who does she see when she talks to Jesus? When I bring her to Mass with me daily, I sometimes imagine myself taking her to a baby play date...am I crazy? is it absurd? perhaps. But this is the reflection I have been led on.
   
     In light of the Golden Globes and the comments made about women achieving dreams, I can only say that this journey of Motherhood has led me down a path of utmost respect for the Mothers in the world but even more so for the Blessed Mother. She was not planning to have a baby when she did but by her yes to Divine Motherhood, her dreams and ours, for that matter, have grown beyond understanding. Motherhood has been nothing short of a blessing for me; my dreams have exploded into many, many more, knowing that I am better because of my daughter and all my future children. Motherhood is my best dream and as a result of this, my spiritual journey continues to be enlightened. Every day I am surprised at the goodness of my daughter and I am blown away by the blessings I reap through her. Mary must have felt this way, too. For if this is how I am feeling daily, complete wonder and awe of the ways my child leads me to God, Mary must have felt this even more so; her child was LITERALLY GOD.

     Thank you, God, for my daughter. Thank you for speaking to my heart daily through her. I am blessed with the most beautiful thing.