We Are Family (Sing It!)

"See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God.

And so we are.

The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.

Beloved, we are God's children now;

what we shall be has not yet been revealed."

- 1 John 3:1-2

Look closely....you'll see most of my family!

      Happy Feast Day!! Don't even try to deny it! It's your feast day whether you know it or not...you're part of a family, aren't you? You have a mom and a dad and maybe some siblings; grandparents, too. Whether it's big or small, you're part of a family. And because of that, it's your feast day! It's the feast of the Holy Family! And not only is it your feast day, it's also some of my favorite sisters' feast day. So, happy feast Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth!

      As some of you may know, I leave for New Orleans tomorrow (well, really today...) at 8:30 is our flight. And because of having to be at the airport at the crack of dawn, I had to catch the Vigil Mass tonight! And I am so glad I got a preview of the Scriptures. My heart was literally dancing in my chest! They were honestly just so good today! The funny thing is, as I sat in my pew listening to the Scriptures, my two (well, one really since the other had to Altar Serve) favorite church girlies, Meghan and Caleigh sat with my family simply giving spiritual emphasis that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ; we are all family. 

      And because we all are family, we are all children of the Father as the second reading eludes to. I am that girl that opens the Missalette to read along with the Lector. Even though one time someone once told me that I shouldn't read along because I am supposed to listen to the Word of God. I tried, I really did, but I pay much more attention when I read along with the words. Visual words mean a lot to me (I am an English Major, you know...) and when I can see them, I understand. So...I can't tell you what the First Reading was about since the Scripture that was read was the alternate option than what was in the book. But the Second Reading...that made my heart go crazy. Look at the truth lying between the lines (quotation above). Because of His love, we ARE children of God. However, we are told we aren't worth love or worth the title of child because the world does not know God. We have lost our child-ness. We are no longer called "children" because of the unawareness society has of God. If only they knew... We are told that regardless of what society tells us, WE ARE HIS CHILDREN. WE TRULY DO BELONG TO THE FATHER. And yet, what we are meant to be has not yet been revealed to us. Say what?!

      We are not meant for this life on earth. We are meant for eternity with God. But that life with Him hasn't yet been revealed to us. However, that line of Scripture gave a deeper consolation to my soul. If you've been reading my blog recently or have been around me physically, you might have been able to pick up on a bit of a struggle I am going through. I am battling with what does God really want me to do?!? Does He want me to be a Sister? If so, what kind of Sister? Or is He calling me to do missionary work throughout the world? OR is He calling me to date, marry and raise a family? While I had put it to rest a bit since being home, it suddenly all came rushing back as I sat, reading in Mass because "What we shall be has not yet been revealed to us." OHHHHHHHHHHH! OKAY! He has given me bits and pieces on my life journey and has whet my appetite, per se, of various life vocations but HE HAS NOT YET FULLY REVEALED WHAT I SHALL BE. I like that about Him, always mysterious. It's very becoming! For me, one who has accepted the child-ness, it was extremely consoling. For society, which continuously is taking away that child-ness, the revelation is even harder to wait for. Because we have lost that child-ness, we have lost belief that God will reveal to us our purpose, our destination, what we shall truly be. If we do not believe (or see as it is hidden by view by all sorts of things in society) in the Love of God, we lose the child-ness. When we lose the child-ness, we lose faith in God's revelation. 

      Speaking of lost children...did you realize that in the Gospel today, Mary and Joseph lost Jesus. The literally left Him in another city. LIKE HELLO?!? Okay, okay...new parents, I get it. They weren't used to having a child. But wait....Jesus was a few years older than just being born. Because they later found Him in His Father's house which He told His parents. Newborns don't speak, friends. It was a challenge for me when I was younger to separate the stories. Because we just had Christmas, I was convinced that the Lost Child happened a few days later just like it did with the readings. But then I realized that this was quite impossible for He did speak to His parents at the time. The more I thought about it, the more plausible the story became. 

      How often do we hear stories about Panic Attacks when it comes to children? I can easily remember a moment of panic in my own heart when my littlest sister, Lizzie, was merely one year old. We had been at the grade school on a Sunday preparing for the Spring Play. One second she is standing next to me, the next second I figure she ran down the hallway to see my mother. But when my mother came into the hall within minutes, Lizzie wasn't with her. WHERE WAS LIZZIE?! Suddenly, everyone was in panic mode. MUST.FIND.LIZZIE. Everyone was searching and calling her name. I was in tears. I had lost my sister. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only minutes, we found her, walking across the parking lot to the school with one of the moms. She was safe, hand in hand, strutting her stuff. Thank God. 

       Imagine the feeling in Mary's heart when she realized Jesus wasn't with them. It wasn't as if he was across the parking lot with the other families with whom they were traveling. No, He was actually in another city. He was miles away with no one to hold Him, feed Him, or protect Him. Anything could have happened to Him. Panic. Ultimate Panic. Finally, Mary and Joseph were on their way back to find Jesus. How did Mary not freak out when they found Jesus? How did she not reprimand Him for staying with the group or telling her where He was off to? How? Simply because He said, "Did you not know I would be in my Father's house." He probably added a cute little smile at the end, just like Lizzie did when she said, "Didn't you know I was with....?" In fact, Mary's relief was probably much greater than her anger or distraught at Jesus's disappearance. Mary was a true mother in the sense that the moment she could have pulled Jesus into her arms and held Him would have been greater than any moment in the world for her. We see the same scene when Jesus met His mother on the road to Calvary. A look, a tender look of love that understands. 

     Ironically enough, when I read the readings before Mass, I couldn't help but laugh at the Gospel. It was about losing a child. The night before (Friday) I had enjoyed a movie night with my CSFN Sisters. The faith sharing is always so beautifully deep with these girls and so unexpected, really. Each sister is so unique in her own way and that uniqueness certainly leads to interesting and beautiful conversation. However, we are a group of women, so one topic lead to another which lead to another which then lead to education and....losing children. I can't tell you how many "baby nun" stories I heard Friday night about losing children. And each story ended with, "Well...they were right were they were supposed to be when I finally found them." Of course, these children, unlike Jesus, were purposefully hiding from their teachers. How ironic that we were just talking about the emotions that tie into losing a child momentarily.

      We have each in some way connected with Mary and her feeling of panic. The Feast Day itself is a people's feast; the readings tell us that. We have each been a child at some point, so we know how it feels to me child-like. We must remain true to the child-ness of being a child of God. And most of us, ironically have felt the moments of panic and then relief with a child, whether a student, a sibling or a child of our own. Most of us are blessed to know and have a family who loves us. This is why we can celebrate this feast as our own. Isn't it such a beautiful day? 

      And I wouldn't have it any other way than to be traveling on this great feast, a feast I celebrate not only with my family in mind, but with my Sisters in mind as well. I know my Sisters prayers are with me this day as just about the time of take-off, they will be praying Morning Prayer. I'll be praying with them from the "comfort" of my plane seat. Later in the day, I'll be thinking about and praying with my own family as about the time I'll be landing, they might all be in Mass together. Of course, when I reach my NOLA family in my favorite city in the whole world (I've been to a lot of places, nothing beats NOLA), I'll be thanking God for my gift of family. That is, the gift of feeling one with any single person I come in contact with, because in truth he or she is my brother or sister. Happy Feast Day, Family!

Always Under The Same Moon and Stars

"Home. Let me come home. 

Home is wherever I'm with you."

- Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros

One of the first pictures of the two of us. AEFL!

     Walking through those front doors is like walking straight into a giant hug. Or being snuggled up with your Teddy Bear under a nice, knitted afghan blanket with a cup of coffee and a good book to read. Or like coming in from playing in the snow and smelling chicken noodle soup on the stove from Mom. Or even like the sun shining warm upon your and tanning your skin on a beautiful summer day. There is warmth and familiarity within those front doors. It's a feeling I can't even describe fully with those metaphors. It makes my soul smile, it makes my heart beat, I feel warm all the way through from my hair to my toes. It's a feeling of being home, but more so, the feeling of knowing you are loved.

     As per the tradition, I headed to supper at the Hospital Convent. Of course, my AE was pretending to be P.F. Chang in the kitchen as she mixed up a wild Lettuce Chicken Wrap (holy wow were they good) as I learned how to make some kind of Polish Egg Soup with Sister Teri. Soon, the sisters were trickling down to the kitchen and dining room as supper was being put out on the serving table. However, before plates were filled, hugs upon hugs were given. Honestly, I never get as many hugs in one night than a night spent at the convent. And since I love hugs so much, giving them and receiving them, it's always a smile for my heart and soul. 

      If there's one thing being in that dining room has taught me, it's that there is no rush when it comes to a meal. I have never eaten a meal with the sisters that has lasted less than an hour. I love it. There is always so much liveliness at those tables with stories upon stories upon stories. Anything from historical moments in our childhoods, like painting our sisters blue, to moments from the day, like the little ones playing guitaras. There is always a story to be told, always. I love it. I have never heard the same story once. They have taught me the true appreciation of one another. The listening, the conversing, the sharing, the appreciation of being with one another. Yes, I have learned that there. 

       Of course, like with any family, once the meal is over, most people head to the living room or in this case, the community room. And so, my AE and I sat next to each other as we talked with one another and the other sisters while at the same time, answering the Jeopardy questions. Women can multitask, you know. As the night wore on, we found ourselves watching old episodes of The Peanuts. I say old, because in reality, they were older than me (from 1985), but to a few of you, that's young. Being there with my sisters felt like home; like a warm cup of coffee being poured into my soul. It gave me a new sense of life and a reminder that there is always a place where I will be loved. 

        Soon, the sisters one by one left the community room and left me, my AE and Sister Eileen to be the last ones there. I tried so hard not to think about it, but as I hugged my AE one last time, my heart was silently breaking a little. This would be the last time I see my AE before she moved to Chicago. No longer will I be able to jump in the car and drive fifteen minutes down the road to see her. I'll have to catch a plane ride next time. And yet, I'll be seeing her on the Web. We'll somehow always be in constant communication. You see there's a reason she's my AE. AE stands for Alter Ego and we are scarily so alike, from Girl Scouts, to arts and crafts, to simply knowing when one needs the other. It still hasn't fully hit me that she won't be nearly as close as she always has been for me...I'm taking it in strides. 

     I know she will be so great as part of the USA CSFN Leadership Team and that God is truly working her to her greatest potential. But here's a secret: I don't like when the familiar surroundings change. Honestly, I can change anything I want about myself or have things about me change and find peace in it, but when things around me start changing, like people moving or buildings changing, my insides freak out. I want to come home from school and have everything be the same. I don't want to the church walls to be a different color and I want to know that I can drive down the road and see my closest sisters within minutes. And yet, things change. Change is inevitable...but growth is optional. And so, both of us must learn to grow from this experience. I'm going to miss being in the kitchen with her almost every other week in the Summer and having CREW at her house and crafting on the fifth floor, but I know somethings will never change. 

      When I walked out the back door, I didn't need a coat; I was still all warm from the hugs and love I received all night long. As I looked to the sky, I almost tripped down the stairs but that would have been ok. As I watched the clouds dance across the moon and stars, I realized something, something that I told Sister Angela Marie before she moved to Roma, Italy. No matter how far away in the world we are from each other, we are always under the same moon and stars. So when I'm looking up at the stars and you are, too, we are connected. You can imagine me doing the same. I'll admit, I didn't cry on the drive home, but as I sit here, being the story-teller that I am, I'm holding back the river. I'm going to miss her. Oh my gosh, am I going to miss her. But the good news is...there may be a trip to the Windy City soon enough for me. Then we'll be back to our old shenanigans. 

      And so, what I'd really want you to remember from this little lesson of mine is: home is wherever you are loved; change is inevitable, growth is optional; and no matter how far away, I am always under the same moon and stars. Best of luck in your new adventure, Sister Michele. Remember, I have Fridays AND Mondays off next semester ;)! AEFL, that is Alter Egos For Life (yeah, I went back to the nineties for a second...I went there). 

Beginning at the End of my Comfort Zone

"We must attract them with joy."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     Lately it seems all I have been doing is things way out of my comfort zone. As I slowly got dressed and ready to go this morning, I kept thinking about how uncomfortable I was about to do something I hadn't done in a while. It was going to be awkward, I just knew it. Going to a place I haven't been in a long time, to talk to people I haven't spoken to in an even longer time was going to be utterly awkward. And so, because I needed to get it out there, I tweeted "All I'm doing is constantly going out of my comfort zone." Within a few seconds, my friend Kathy tweeted back at me : "@nunbetter_BG92 Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. You're #winning. Own it." I knew that was God. 

     I got into the car and drove the ten minutes down the road to a place I used to frequent more when I was much younger. I parked the car and headed straight to the cemetery. If someone was going to help me out, I knew it would be my girl, Sister Thomasita. And so, I stood there (freezing, mind you) and chatted away with my dearheart. You see, she is my reason for coming to the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament Motherhouse. She is the reason I pray. She is the reason I ever started discerning in the first place. And even though I never got to tell her, she knows and she looks out for me as if God specifically told her to be my Guardian Angel. 

      After a few moments with her, I headed to the Chapel where I met Sister Odessa. She greeted me with, "My sister, my little sister, oh my sister you've grown up so much. Get in my arms." This woman is someone I barely know and yet, I know her so well. She is a beautiful woman of God and such a great SBS Sister. I hadn't seen her in over a year and yet, she still welcomed me as if it was only yesterday she saw me. Suddenly, I felt a twang of home in my heart. Soon after we visited Katharine in the Shrine, we headed all throughout the Motherhouse to get to the dining room for lunch. This was going to be the interesting part! 

      We walked in and all I could smell was a Louisiana Kitchen. I suddenly realized why I loved New Orleans so much. I was raised to love it; it's in my spiritual blood. All of the sisters were enjoying some Cajun Jambalaya and Southern Spicy Fish; it seemed perfect! Sr. Odessa and I sat down at a table in the corner and began to enjoy our lunch as we talked about being an educator in today's world. Usually, I'll admit, when I am around new people, or people I do not know well, I'm not much of a talker. The internal me (this is hard to believe for many people...) is actually very quiet, shy and has an intense comfort zone. This was definitely out of my comfort zone, and yet, I was talking much more than I normally would. Before I knew it, a few other sisters I had never known before until today, sat down at our table. Conversation was flowing wildly; I never expected it.

       Like I said, talking about things very personal to me is so hard for me to do even with friends (and they will tell you it's hard to get things out of me...). I wasn't in the least bit shy or quiet or even uncomfortable. In fact, I felt right at home. I felt a love for these sisters I had never felt before in my heart. To make things even better, their President (they don't call her Mother General or Mother Superior) came over just to say hello and wish we well on my upcoming New Orleans trip (I leave Sunday...am I packed? Nope.). I felt so very blessed. 

        As lunch was ending, Sister Odessa had to head to a meeting and so another dearhearted sister lead me out. However, leading me out also meant a stop to her bedroom for a book on the Chapel at Xavier University in New Orleans and another stop in Chapel, where she blessed me and thanked God for my presence (that's actually never, ever, ever happened to me before.). Then, she proceeded to walk me to the car and you will never guess what happened. It started snowing. Just another confirmation from God that I was where I was meant to be at that moment.

       As I drove home, I couldn't help but think of things that had once been so prominent on my heart. From the very beginning of my discernment, I put my foot down saying I wasn't meant to be a Sister of the Blessed Sacrament. I didn't want people to believe I was doing it as a "pay-back" to God for the miracle He gave my Daddy. I wanted people to believe it was God calling me, because it was me not because I was miracle boy's (my family's nickname for him....) daughter. I grew up with them, yes, but I didn't know them like I knew the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth or the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I had no discernment history with them! I love both the CSFN and IHM Charisms and know so much about the work they do. Yet, I know barely a thing about the SBS. I could tell you every CSFN Province in the world and every country the IHMs have been in. Yet, nothing again about the SBS. Of course, every single time I walk into that Chapel, I can only think one thing: Mother walked here. 

       This past Summer, when I found out that the parish we stayed at in New Orleans used to be an SBS mission, I almost cried. The building, apparently used to be the old convent where Mother Katharine herself stayed when she visited. SHE WALKED THE SAME FLOORS I DID!!! How could I have forgotten that she did ministry in NEW ORLEANS?!?! Like honestly, I was kicking myself for forgetting. And then again, when I was in Jamaica in August. Mama K never went there, but given the chance to go international, I think she would have. What was I doing when I was in both places that I realized the spirit of Mama K so deep in my heart? I was ministering to the poor, the abandoned, the homeless all that she herself had done. But the biggest was that I was with the African Americans and Jamaicans. Her ministry was to the Native and African Americans. It all became so clear in my heart and mind. How could I have possibly ruled them out without giving a deeper look into their charisms and spirituality and ministry?!? HOW?!?

      Every time I visit the SBS Motherhouse, I get chills. It's as if Katharine is right there with me. I remember back when I was a Sophomore in High School giving an interview on Katie's Feast Day. The reporter asked me what my relationship with Katharine was like. I answered, "I don't really have one, I don't really know her yet." How right I was. But now that I've been doing the same ministries as Mama K, and literally walking in her foot steps, I am blown away about how much of her spirit I share with her. I am blown away by the chills that run through me when I touch the pews she sat in, when I walk the halls she walked, when I pray next to her. Chills because Mother Katharine lives through me. When I look at the picture above, I can honestly say how familiar she looks to me, like a friend, like a sister. Of course, the more I learn of her life, her humility, her words, I feel closer and closer to Mama K, more than ever before. 

       When I was with the Sisters today, I heard so much about their work in different places throughout the United States. I heard about the joy they spread and as I contributed so much more to the conversation than I thought was ever possible, I felt their joy radiate in my hear. When Sister was walking me to the car, she said something that I will always remember: "We don't see as many vibrant young people like you here. You gave me hope today. Our world needs you because you are like your grandmother (Bea!!) and so much like Katharine. Oh if only she knew you. We need another Katharine, we need you." With a hug and a kiss on the forehead, my newest sister sent me on my way. Somewhere in my day was another confirmation of my path in life. Whether I am meant to follow in Katharine's footsteps even closely or simply always carry her with me, remembering my roots, where this whole thing started, I'm not sure. But God was with me today and He gave me such a beautiful experience. And to think, none of it would have taken place if I didn't step out of my comfort zone!! Thanks God. Thanks Mama K!

Why I Still Believe - Working Under Cover for the Big Guy

"A hug is the best gift - one size fits all and no one cares if you exchange it."

- Irvin Ball

Jingles, Santa and Frankie the Reindog

     At twenty years old, yes, I still believe in Santa Claus. Let that sit in for a second. Some of you are now confirming the fact that you believed I am so innocent, while others are gasping, thinking "how can she be so innocent." Let's be honest, folks, I've seen a lot of turmoil in this world. And that is why I still believe in Santa Claus.

     My little sister is eight and a half, and she's seen above dressed as an elf, with me, dressed as Santa. Did she know it was me? Of course. She watched me get dressed. She knows we own a Santa Suit. But the magic was still there. I'll let you in on a little secret of mine. A few years ago, Santa was looking for some help. So, I hooked him up and gave him my number. Now, I'm on speed-dial. That's right folks, I work under cover for the big boy. He called my cell phone late Sunday night, right before I was going to bed. The week before Christmas for Santa is like finals week for college kids. That means...he will literally call at any moment because he has no awareness of how late it is. He also doesn't sleep. Anyway, he called me and begged me for some help. He needed four little elves to go visit a family in West Philadelphia the next day. Well, we were short an elf, so I asked Santa if it would be ok if I told Lizzie our secret. This is what he told me: "I think she's old enough to understand that some families, I can't get to. Their neighborhoods are too dangerous for the reindeer or some families don't have real homes that I can leave presents in. I think she'll understand that sometimes Santa needs to send in back-up. Yes, you can let her know you've been working for me for a few years now. And just as a reminder that I do exist, I'll stop by later tonight when she's asleep." 

     The next morning, I was partly dressed as Santa and painting my cheeks rosy red when Lizzie walked into the bathroom. I asked her and right away she said yes. In fact, she ran upstairs and grabbed her fancy elf costume (I'm serious...we have those laying around. We're a theater family...) and put it on. I was so proud! I finished dressing as Santa to the point where the beard and hair were safely bobby-pinned to my real hair. We were ready. As we drove through the cities to get to pick up another elf and get to Nazareth, people were honking and waving and laughing and smiling. Wow, the Christmas Joy was upon us, I thought. Then I remembered I was dressed as Santa. So, of course, I played it up! We started waving and honking and yes, giving out candy canes! One man told me I was crazy and yet, because of me being crazy, he now had Christmas joy. Our job wasn't over yet, however.

     With one more elf in the back seat, and a sleigh full of toys, we drove down in the depths of the city to a little neighborhood called West Philadelphia (...born and raised.) We parked the car, pulled all the toys out and walked to the house. People in the neighborhood were shocked silly to see a literal Santa and her/his elves. When we rang to doorbell, Mom answered and the oldest son, but the little ones were out at the store. So, we set the toys and candy up, and snuck out of the house. Santa had come. I could only imagine the joy that would be on their faces when they got home. How could it have happened? I imagined the 13 year old saying. If Mom has barely enough money to pay for the apartment, how could this have happened? Santa must be real after all. And this, my friends, is why I still believe in Santa. Not only because he calls me every year and asks for my help, but because the Santa I believe in, is a symbol of hope. I saw more toothless smiles yesterday driving back through Kensington than I had ever seen in my life, but they were smiles. And you know why they were smiling, because Santa, who is an instrument of God, smiled first. 

      My belief in Santa is a little deeper than that so don't worry. You see, even though I work under cover for the big guy, the big guy actually works under cover for God, who is the real reaso for the seaso. After a long day of working as Santa's helper, I changed my outfit from red to green and drove to Mass in a whirlwind of white snow. I literally felt so beautiful! You see, snow is always a sign that I am exactly where I am meant to be. The very first time I told anyone (Sister David) I was thinking about religious life, it snowed. From that moment on, snow had a special meaning. In the car, I called my dear Sister Bernice way, way up in Connecticut to wish her a Merry Christmas Eve, before heading into Mass. Since I've been unofficially diagnosed with Nerve Damage in my knee, I haven't been able to kneel (as per nurse's request) and yet, I couldn't help it. I knelt. I know, all the nurses are going to be yelling at me, but I had to, my little baby was there in the manger and I needed to kneel. As I looked up to the ceiling of St. Christopher's Church in prayer, I noticed how much it looked like a stable roof. How perfect.

      Not before long, four of my Nazareth Sisters walked in, sitting a few pews ahead of me. I snuck into the pew and surprised them all. There were two sisters in front of me and one on each side of me. While we all sat in prayer, two of our other sisters sat down behind us. So there I was, surrounded, literally, by my sisters. Of course, with my sisters who know me so well (and I know them so well), there were moments during Mass where I just had to giggle. I know at some points, we each had tears in our eyes, too. 

      You see, my AE was so happy to be in a place she called home for so long. In a few days, she'll be moving to Chicago for at least the next six years. I haven't let myself get upset about it yet, but I am. I'm going to miss her so much. Of course, Sister Evey was tapping her foot and swaying to every beat of the music, singing her heart out, just like a little child. She is the essence of childlike spirit for me. Then there was Sister Teri on my left, who shared her missalette with me but couldn't see the words. That's alright, I couldn't either. Of course, when I laughed, she elbowed me like a perfect big sister. On my right side was Sister Mary Annette who sung in perfect harmony with that. I love that about her. She's harmonious with everything, but especially God. Her soul is beautiful. Behind me was Sister Mary Joan, that's right my high school principal. I am so blessed to be able to call her my sister these days, because she truly looks after me like a big sister should. And finally, Sister Daniela, my matka (which means mother in Polish). She is the superior (the mother) of St. Katherine's Convent and since I'm there so much when I'm home, it's like I live there, she has become my mother, too. But why matka? She's Polish. Like from Poland, Polish. She is someone I miss so very, very much when I am away from home. We quietly share a connection of souls. 

     As I knelt (my knee was screaming...I didn't care), I realized how much in the last few weeks that I had needed a hug, and so my Christmas miracle was having a Mass long, group hug from my Sisters. At the end of Mass, one sister was pulling me into a hug, while another was holding my hand. I got all the hugs and kisses the youngest little sister usually gets and more. For the first time in a while, I was aware of God's love for me. I was so aware of His love, I was brought to tears. Yes, the love was so present. This is why I still believe. 

      The night was far from over after my first Christmas Mass. At midnight, Mary, my Daddy and I headed to Midnight Mass after a Christmas Eve dinner with some family friends. It is my most favorite Mass of all times (Good Friday is my favorite liturgical day, but there's no Mass...). There is what some people call magic, but what I call miracles. As I listened to the Homily, Father Mike had such a beautiful view point. Jesus became a messy human. Being a human is so messy because we love, but we cannot love perfectly. If we could love perfectly, it would be perfectly mutual. However, most of us love and love and love and love without that love being mutual. I thought immediately back to my circle of Sisters. That love was mutual. So mutual. I felt a sense of belonging and home with them. I thought back even further to being Santa's elves. I loved that family probably more than they could ever love me. I thought to the smiles I received in response to the love I was giving to the hopeless (and sometimes toothless) people of Kensington and West Philadelphia. I love them more than they knew! This is why I still believe.

       And so, the Santa I believe in, isn't exactly the guy who climbs down chimneys, but rather a symbol of hope. Working for him under cover is the best. But I know, in truth, we both work for the even bigger Guy and I can't thank my Father enough for blessing me with such beautiful sisters and smiles and family. I got to admit, working under cover for the Big Guy is awesome!

I'm The Fairy Godmother...Again

"I know what every princess needs to live happily ever after.

Your troubles will soon be gone, worries will vanish, your soul will cleanse."

- Fairy Godmother, Shrek 2 

      A little less than three weeks ago while I sitting on my bed attempting to write my final paper for my Linguistics class on Speech Acquisition for the Deaf (it's actually a veryyyyy interesting topic) when my phone started ringing. When I looked at the caller ID, I panicked slightly when it read "Uncle Charles Home." First, how did he have my cell phone number? Second, WHY ON EARTH WAS HE CALLING ME AT SCHOOL??? "Hello?" I answered? "Rebecca!" my uncle replied with excitement. Only my aunts and uncles call me by my full first name. "What's up?" He answered by telling me I have a brand new cousin, Emily. This makes...oh...only 28 grandkids in the family. I was overjoyed. In my joy, I forgot that my uncle usually doesn't call the cousins personally to make them aware of the newest baby. They simply call the brothers.

      I could hear the other six kids in the background when my uncle put my Aunt Maryanne on speaker phone. "We have a question for you," they said in unison, "Would you be Emily's God-mother?"  I almost leapt off my bed because my heart was so happy. Yes! Yes! Yes! I was honored! I was ready to go scream to the whole campus that I was going to be a Godmother to my newest (and cutest) cousin. How awesome! I could hear a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone....as if I would say no...silly Uncle and Aunt! I smiled as we hung up. In a few weeks, I would get to see and hold and love and spoil my God-daughter, Emily.

       Yesterday was the Baptism. After staying up til 3:30 (which was the brightest idea), I was rolling out of bed at 8:15 and heading to the bookstore to get my God-daughter her gift. I tossed and turned all night long thinking what on earth I should get a one month old for her Baptism. A rosary? No....that's for First Communion. A bracelet? Nah...she'd probably eat it. A picture frame? With what picture. BOOKS! I'll get her BOOKS! It finally dawned on me. When I found out I was going to be a God-mother, I had class later that night with Professor Mooney, who of course asked what the baby's name was. When I said Emily, he responded by telling me I better teach her all about Emily Bronte and Emily Dickinson. So, I bought her a book of Emily Dickinson poetry for kids. Some may argue that she can't read, but she will be able to one day. Besides, it's because of the name. However, I also bought her two of my favorite books by Nancy Tillman: On The Day You Were (appropriate) and Wherever You Go, My Love Will Find You (which is about God's love...which we receive in Baptism, so there!) This kid will be reading the best literature before she can count to ten. Yes, that's my goal. Poor girl....not only did she receive God's love and grace through Baptism, but she also gained an English Major for a God-mom. 

      As a God-mother, there are certain duties one most take care of...you know, like dress the baby, change the baby, take pictures with the baby, love the baby, smile at the baby, hold the baby. But as a cousin (and niece), I also have duties. Like....harass the six other kids in the car by tickling them into their car seats and holding their hands into and out of church, bouncing them on my lap, messing up their hair and eating their cookies. Not only was I blessed to be a God-mother to my beautiful, littlest cousin, but I was blessed to be a cousin and a niece as well. 

      I love my family so much. I love how crazy we are, and how much we really look out for each other. I love our dads don't yell at their own kids but all the other ones and then harass the heck out of the ones that aren't in trouble. I love that our moms just roll their eyes and laugh as the dads turn back into brothers. I love that the older cousins get dirtier than the younger cousins when we are running around the house. I love that everyone bugs the new boyfriend/girlfriend. I love that the babies get handed around to every member of the family. I love when I get picked up and hung upside-down over banisters even though I'm twenty years old. Yes, I love my family and being with them at the Baptism really shows how deep our faith is especially when we are with each other. Faith is what grounds us, and it shows when the whole family comes together for the Sacraments....even if we go crazy at the "after Church party."

      I love my little baby cousin, Emily. I can't stop smiling at the picture my Aunt and Uncle gave me yesterday. She's beautiful and so stinking cute. I can't wait to see her all the time and love her up! While I got to spend a good amount of time with her yesterday morning, she crashed after the Baptism, giving me more time to spend with her brothers and sisters and our cousins. Some of my favorite moments yesterday were: Maria, who's 14 months old, passing out on the floor and sleeping the day away; Charlie, who's 4, grabbing my hand and then smacking me in the forehead with his other hand that was covered in Holy Water as we left the church; Chris, who's my Dad's God-son, getting punched in the eye which then resulted in me "trying to fix the eye" and my Dad chasing his brother who threw the punch (who happened to be Emily's God-father....); and Albert, who's 5, eating and hiding his cookies from the cookie monster who happened to be Uncle Larry. I just love my family so much. Enjoy the pictures!

She slept through the whole thing!

Posing...because we got kicked out of the other picture.

COUNT THE KIDS!

Yeah...my uncle's a hunter?

See what I mean by crazy....

....it runs in the family. 

I took his picture first!

She was a little jealous....

Then there was this kid who kept trying to get in our picture and no one knew who she was at all.....but she did tell me she liked my "Fairy God-Mother shoes."

Lessons and Carols from Miss Peg

"The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to here."

- Elf

Us.............Miss Peg
(I couldn't help myself)

     My school friends think that once I come home, I have no life. My home friends think that I have no life at school. They are two separate worlds and yet so alike. In both, contrary to former belief, I am a crazy, busy, always running around person. I sometimes tell people that's how I got my curly...from going crazy and never coming back!! Regardless of whether I am at school or at home, I always have a place to be or people to see or things to do. But in the words of my dear friend, Sister Rose, "It's all healthy involvement and you are young." 

     As soon as I got home from school, Lizzie and I started preparing for our second year in Lessons and Carols at St. Charles Borromeo in New Jersey. Our first practice was Sunday, but since Mary was performing in her school concert, we could only stay a little while. Practice was held again on Tuesday and Wednesday for two hours each. And then a half hour drive home for the PA duo. The actual Lessons and Carols night was held Friday night. You know, the night of the supposed "end of the world." Let me tell you, that as sick as I was feeling some nights, (I'm slowly coming down with a cold of sorts...my rudolph nose can prove it), Lessons and Carols is one of my favorite nights of the year. 

     We sing as a choir about 25 religious, Christmas songs each emulating a specific "lesson" of the Bible. The lessons are nine readings beginning with Genesis and ending with the Gospel of Luke and the birth of our Lord. There are nine different readings with two songs for each one. For an auditory learner like me, the music really brings the lessons to my heart. Not to mention, with everyone's voices combined, the music sounded beautiful. Enough to bring my Daddy to tears. The lessons and carols night makes Christmas real for me. It gives excitement to the anticipation of Christmas Eve.

     Like I mentioned, this was the second year for me and Lizzie to participate in the choir for Lessons and Carols. As much as I loved the music and the faith and the spirituality of the night, there was so much from God in this years Lessons and Carols for me. And that mostly has to do with Miss Peg, our director and an angel sent to earth from Heaven.

      Miss Peg, while teaching us the music and the lessons, whether she knew it or not, had a whole other agenda of lessons up her sleeves. She taught me so many more lessons that just the nine Biblical lessons that have become part of my heart forever. And so, since Miss Peg blessed my life with such beautiful lessons, I figured I would then share them with you. 

Lesson #1 : God is the source of all talent and we must give Him thanks. Pray always. 

Miss Peg would sometimes randomly interrupt our practices just to pray. I loved that so much. 

Lesson #2 : Never forget that you can do it if you really try!

Miss Peg gave me a duet and I was terrified. But my Friday night I really felt confident. Seeing her encouraging wink in the middle of the song really helped me believe in myself.

Lesson #3 : Children are truly a gift from God.

The relationship between Miss Peg and my little Lizzie is one of the most beautiful things in the world. Lizzie loves Miss Peg because Miss Peg treats Lizzie not as a child but as a human gift from God; as a real person. She is a little person.

Lesson #4 :  In the last moment of panic, remember to lift up your worry to God. He will take care of you.

We had a really difficult piece to sing this year "O Magnum Mysterium" and I could tell Miss Peg was so nervous for it as we stood to sing it for the congregation. However, right before she began conducting, she closed her eyes and in her heart, lifted up the worry to God. It was the best we had ever sung the song.

and

Lesson #5 : Have patience in all things, especially with oneself (borrowed from St. Francis de Sales).

Miss Peg has the patience of a saint. I admire that. I really wish I had as much patience as she did. It's hard to conduct family members and friends, but she did it with such patience. Of course, she, too, had patience with herself. That is the most admirable.

      Miss Peg has so much wisdom and while I barely know her, while I only see her once a year, she has made a lasting impact on my life. I am so blessed by her presence in my life...even if most of the time it's only on Facebook. I truly do thank God for not only the night of Lessons and Carols, but the lessons and carols from Miss Peg. Thanks God, for always blessing me with those who I need so desperately in my life. Thanks for giving me the hope I needed this Christmas through Miss Peg. Thank you!     

Here's a taste of what you would have heard last year at Lessons and Carols!

Jesus Look-a-Like

"He lives in you, 

He lives in me.

He watches over everything we see,

into the water, into the truth, 

in your reflection, 

He lives in you."

- "He Lives In You", The Lion King

 or 

     On Tuesday, I said what I thought would be my last goodbyes to the Nazareth Academy crowd before the New Year. But after wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I had one final stop: the Main Office. As soon as I walked in, Sister Mary Joan wrapped her "big sister" arms around my neck (literally my neck) and pulled my head under her chin. "What do you mean 'Merry Christmas'?" She asked. "I mean..uh..Merry Christmas?" Right away the ladies in the Main Office, Mrs. Versino and Mrs. Cardamone chimed in: "Yeah, aren't you coming back this week?" "Uh...no?" I answered, now unsure of my plans for the rest of the week. I was still in a loving headlock from Sister Mary Joan when she said, "You are always here for Mass. You never miss Christmas Mass." I agreed. And then the three of them in unison said, "So you're coming right?!" "Of course..." I mumbled, "Of course." 

      Having gone to my alma mater once a week for the past two and a half months, and then twice this week already, I was starting to feel like I was wearing out my welcome. And I can't lie, I needed my own little break from Nazareth. As much as I love my school a million, I'm there way too much for having graduated three years ago. And yet, something always drags me back in.Whether it's the people I love, the girls who are my sisters, my heart needing a little bit (or a lotta bit) or love or God just wants me there, I always get dragged back in. And the curse for anyone who goes through those front doors is: You can never just stay for a few minutes. You stay forever.

     And so, there I was this morning, trying to pick out something other than yoga pants and a t-shirt to wear to Mass. After baking my little sister four dozen brownies for her classmates at six this morning and getting her ready for school, I dropped her off and then headed to the great Naz Acad. With two minutes to spare, I pulled into the parking lot. Not one, not two, but ALL THREE (yes, I have three unofficial, official parking spots there....) were filled. You know what that means, those two minutes to spare were spent running from the back parking lot to the front door. Of course, nothing ever starts on time, so I spent that "extra time" catching up briefly with my A.E., Sister Michele. Before I knew it, those I had said "Merry Christmas" were now "harassing" me about how I "just couldn't stay away." God does some funny things, I told them. And boy was today just an emulation of that!

      Father began the homily by asking us what we thought Jesus looked like. He suggested Chase Utley, and the Brawny Man, but I couldn't disagree more. In my mind, I began to compose what Jesus would really look like: scruffy; dark, sun-tanned skin; dark, dark, wild brown hair; dark brown, almost black eyes; he wouldn't be too built, but he would be strong; his hands would be rough from carpentry work; and of course, he'd have blisters on his feet from his shoes. I smiled at this image in my head, but then I tuned back into the homily. "A baby..." I heard. Oh wait...Jesus did come as a baby at first. Immediately, I tried to picture this grown man I just drew in my head, as a newborn baby. 

      Ask anyone and they will tell you, I love babies. I love holding them, rocking them, singing to them, feeding them, playing with them, smiling at the them, waving at them, playing peek-a-boo with them, even changing their diapers...I don't even mind that. I love babies. They bring such joy to anyone's life with their innocence and their little-ness. Their eyes are wide, ready for the world and yet they are so fragile. I have so many babies in my life, that describing this makes it easy...and yet, I couldn't imagine Jesus as a baby. 

      As I went through my day at Nazareth (like I said, you can't leave.....), I caught up more with my AE, I crashed Sister David's second period and watched The Nativity Story with her class, bonded with Sister Teri over Special Education courses (ironic how we took the same class...) and finally, popped in to aid my dear Sister Mary Anthony. I tried to keep my profile low while I was in the building; the less people who knew I was there, the better. And yet, that never happens when Becca is in the building. But that's ok. God had me there for a reason.

      That reason was soon to be revealed to me as I sat in the Community Service Corps office with Sister Mary Anthony trying to fix the CSC Facebook Account. She is always multi-tasking, and so while I was fixing it, she was trying to call her Operation Santa Claus delivery spots. She was supposed to drop some presents off today, but she just wasn't going to make it. Without even fully knowing what was going on, my heart volunteered for the job. Right away, I said, "I can do it, Sister." Both of us were shocked at my abrupt volunteer, but God was in it. As we quickly chatted, I found out more and more information. The drive was a half hour away, in a different state and completely out of the way of home for me. But, oh well. When she told me where I was going, I knew right away that God was working in my visit to Naz. The place was called "Our Lady of Sorrows," and I have a huge devotion to her. 

       I quickly printed out directions to where I was going and we headed downstairs to get the presents. We filled up my front seat and then we hugged good-bye. As I drove, it was as if I didn't even need the directions; my heart was leading me to where I was going. I got there a lot sooner than I had expected and dropped off the packages. Just like I did every year, my eyes started to water as the lady gave me a huge hug and thanked me. She told me that Makhai would love the gifts; I knew he would. When I got into the car to drive home, that's when I got it: the reason I couldn't picture Jesus as a baby is because He is not a baby anymore. 

      I reflected back on my day and realized, Jesus doesn't look like a baby, nor does He look like that Middle Eastern man I described. He looks like Makhai. He looks like the lady who opened the front door at Our Lady of Sorrows. He looks like Sister Mary Anthony, Sister David, Sister Teri, Sister Michele and Sister Mary Joan. He looks like the ladies in the main office. He looks like my favorite teachers. He looks like the homeless men and women I saw on my drive through the poor neighborhoods. He looks like my little sisters and their friends. He looks like the tired, worn and exhausted parents. He looks like the parents of the 20 children killed in Connecticut. He looks like their teachers and principal who stood in the line of fire. He looks like the kids in Jamaica that I think about everyday who have no family but each other. He looks like the families in New Orleans who live in the houses I once helped build. Jesus looks like all of these people and so many more. This is why I couldn't picture Him as a baby, because He lives in them and you and me. He looks like us. We are Jesus look-a-likes!