Life's a Stage and God is the Director - Charlotte's Web Part Two

"No matter what, always remember that what you do is God's work. Every time you bring joy to another's life, you are doing God's work."

    I did it. I was really trying not to, but today, as we all held hands during our pre-show prayer, a little tear slowly formed in my eye and leaked out over the side of my eyelid. Then, it happened again in the other eye. Before I knew it, I had tears dripping down my face. Oh God, I thought, my make-up is all ruined now. AND I look like a blubbering idiot. Who cries during prayers? Oh wait...me. We finished with an Our Father, and our usual, "I feel good. I feel great. I feel the poooooooower within." Then I opened my eyes. 

    For the past week, I've been fighting off the tears that build up during our director's pep talks. But really, she always makes me want to cry good tears of great feeling within. Not only was she my stage director for the past three months, but also my teacher. And yet, the hats are different. In class, sister. At practice, real, legitimate, human being. She never wore her habit to practice because...well, you can't exactly move up and down and all around the stage quickly in a skirt. Yet, there was no difference between her in class empowerment and her at practice empowerment. Whether we were being critiqued or commended, she always reminded us that we are doing God's work. 

     I have no words for her and yet, I have all the words in the world. She is one of the most amazing, influential, empowering women I have ever met. While at one time in my college career I actually questioned why she ever became a sister, I know how sincerely she really uplifts all the values of her religious life. She may be viewed as a little radical from her sisters, but from a college student's perspective, she is so real and alive and full of sincerity. She literally jumps right on the stage with us, act out certain parts for us, becomes one with us. There is no boundary between sister and student, it is actress to actress/actor. The mentor in her comes out only after practice.

     After practice, especially the final dress rehearsals, when we have our final evaluation/pep talk. While I've heard the rumor that she can get pretty feisty when things go wrong, I can only believe that she is so passionate. Every single word that she speaks is truer because of that passion and maybe, compassion. Things go wrong, yes, but she believes in us, and you can feel that resonate all throughout you as if she is speaking only to you. She gives us our stage notes, the things we need to improve on ASAP, and then she builds up our morale. 

     I can't tell you how many times she has told us about the kids we would be acting for. She told us that the kids might come from rich families or might be inner city kids. Some kids might have never ever seen a show in a real theatre before while others may have gone to broadway on a yearly basis. Some kids know tragedy, real tragedy, while others only know fictional tragedy. Regardless of who they are, we are bringing them joy and joy is God's work within us. 

    Every time she brought up the kids, especially at our pre-show prayers, I would fight off tears. These are the kids I might teach one day. These are kids I want to get to know, to be a ray of sunshine and hope for. This is what I want to do with the rest of my life. And maybe this week, was a week where I needed those kids more than they might have needed me. They inspired me, they brought joy to my life by their laughter, their conversations, and their smiles. I guess that's why I'm an education major!

    As I walking back from the show by myself in the rain today (a sad situation to most but so peaceful to me), I stumbled upon one of the other sisters on campus. Since it was Saturday she was all dressed down out of habit (which was slightly normal for me to be like, OH HEY SIS...) and we walked together, talking about the show. I told her how it was a hard decision for me to get back into theatre, but I did it. And then, I told her that the moment I got back on the stage in front of those kids, I realized how much I really missed theatre and being on the stage. Then Sister reminded me that education is more or less a stage since we are acting in front of our students! It made me think that maybe life is a stage and God is the director. However, like many actors and actresses, we can deviate from the script or even the director's notes. The director can get frustrated, but like my director, God will never lash out, or yell, or show complete forgiveness. Instead, God will empower us and then give us a second chance!! Yep, life is a stage and God is the director!! Congrats Cue and Curtain Cast of Charlotte's Web!! We did it!!

If Jesus Was A Spider, I'd Be A Pig - Charlotte's Web Part One

"Wilbur: 'Charlotte, why are you doing all of this for me?'

Charlotte: 'Because you are my friend, Wilbur.'"

    As many of you know, I LOVE writing. I write poetry, short stories, letters and of course, newspaper articles. Not only have I written for The Nazareth and The Immaculatan, but also for the Daily Chronicle. Where's the Daily Chronicle, you ask? Well, it's in Beaverton, Oregon, the setting of Charlotte's Web. And yes, I have been the reporter for almost three months. I've witnessed no ordinary pig and a no ordinary spider. I've documented award ceremonies and miracles. I've met some pretty talented animals and some extremely prominent people who play an important part in the little pigs life. But I've also had the opportunity to interview the audience after every show, asking the kids their favorite parts, and telling them, while still in character, that I'm writing an article for the paper! 

    Ok so here's the truth: I ventured out of my hole and decided to get back into something I love so much: Theatre. I can't describe the feeling it gives me. It's a mix between adrenaline, excitement, energy, and peace. Being on the warm stage gives me a true sense of who I am. I can stand on the stage and not feel self-conscious and feel so free. I could dance and dance and dance and sing and sing and sing forever. I actually feel one hundred percent happy and on top of the world. For a little while there is nothing to worry about but the stage and stage movements. But the best part about this show is that it's Children's Theatre, so we get to play the audience full of little kids. In addition to playing a reporter, I also play a narrator and one of Charlotte's young baby spiders. I love telling the story to the kids and putting on different hats (literally) and voices. I love seeing the kids faces light up and watching them move all over their seats as the plot thickens. But most of all, I love talking to the after the show. 

     It was in "interviewing" the girls from our little sister school that I had an idea. Actually, I had "interviewed" their music nun, who I also happen to work for. She said, "My favorite part was when Charlotte sacrificed her life for Wilbur, just like Jesus did for us." Well, yes, my dear sister, that was my first thought. The more I got acquainted with the character of Wilbur, I disliked him. He is selfish, stubborn and sometimes rude to Charlotte. The more I disliked Wilbur, the more I began to recognize these traits in myself when I'm with God. It is so true that just like Charlotte gave her life for Wilbur, Jesus gave His life for us. And how many times do we take for granted His sacrifice. He could have easily told us no, that He wouldn't save us. But like Charlotte, He said, "Don't worry, I will save you. Somehow. I will." While He didn't hang from a web, He did hang from the Cross, in order to save our bacon... Oh, and just like Charlotte was incredibly beautiful, Jesus is pretty handsome Himself. 

    Yes, Jesus is the Charlotte to my Wilbur, the Spider to my pig. 

Luck of the Irish, They Say

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you waken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of gentle birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry—

I am not there. I did not die."

     My favorite Holiday is Thanksgiving, because it brings all families together. My second favorite holiday is St. Patrick's Day, because it brings my heritage together. I am only a portion Irish, because of my Daddy's Mother, Bea. When you look at me and my features, some may say I look Italian, some say German, some say Swedish. I think I look the most Irish, with my fair skin and dark, curly hair. I had always wanted to learn how to Irish Dance, and Michael Flately was my favorite dancer. I love to sing the traditional Irish church hymns, like "Christ Be Before Me" and "Lord of All Hopefulness." I like to think that if Bea was still alive, I would spend so much time with her in her kitchen learning how to make her favorite dishes and there are days when I can't wait to get to Heaven to meet her. After going to Mass this morning and singing with the crazy hype Irish nuns, my favorite hymns, I stood in the kitchen channeling my inner Bea while rolling Irish Potatoes and listening to Irish Drinking Music. Of course, every so often, the Celtic Women would come on and I would dance. Good thing it was only ten in the morning and no one was up to watch me embarrass myself. In Twenty minutes I had made about 60 potatoes in addition to the ones I did yesterday. I found myself wishing for the comfort of the Annual St. Patty's Day Parade in my neighboring city and for my little sister who would have loved rolling potatoes. I found myself wishing I could carry my voice in Celtic song like the beautiful Irish girls. I found myself wishing I knew what it was like to grow up in Ireland during days of famine, suffering and war, if only to be closer with my ancestors. And I found myself wishing Bea was with me, filling my heart and soul with her stories. 

     The closest thing to having my grandmother with me is spending some good time with the older sisters celebrating our Irish background. We sang, we danced, we colored, we shared stories, we laughed. We had an all around good time. I can't count how many kisses I got because of my sticker that clearly stated, "Kiss me, I'm Irish." St. Patty's Day brings out the drunk on life, full of love person in all of us. The amount of Irish around me made me feel at home, where I was meant to be, with family. 

      The above Irish blessing is one I constantly think of when I think of Bea. She isn't there, she is everywhere with me. I feel as her and my Granddad are with me always, protecting me. But after I read it again, I thought how perfect it is for Jesus on His Resurrection day?! For He was not there, He did not sleep. The song I chose for today is Siuil a Ruin, which translates, "Walk, walk, walk, my love. Go calmly and go quietly, go through the door and flee with me. And may you go safely, my dear." If that's not romantic, I don't know what is. And Jesus is the Great Romancer, for He sang this to me this morning!!

      Until we meet again, may the road rise to meet you, may the sun shine warm upon your face and the wind be always at your back, may the rains fall soft upon your fields, may God hold you in the palm of His hand. 

Embracing Our Inner Velma...A Story About Blindness

"But I can't see without my glasses!" - Velma, Scooby-Doo

     I'm sure we've all seen an episode of Scooby-Doo where Velma loses her glasses; she was always losing them. Frantically, she would crawl on the floor searching for them, when they were right in front of her eyes. Like Velma, I, too, am always losing my glasses. Sometimes, I take them to the shower room with me and leave them on the shower shelf, or other times, I'll put them on the window sill instead of my desk before bed, or sometimes they are right on top of my head. One of my boyfriends once said that I always reminded him of Velma when I lose my glasses, because I simply can't see to find them. Ever since he said that, I've always felt like Velma when I lose my glasses.

     And that is exactly what happened to me on Sunday. I had worn my glasses while driving to pick up my sister from church. I came home and went to wash my hair, somewhere between my bedroom and the bathroom, putting my glasses down. After washing, brushing and styling my hair, and doing my make-up, I sat down on my bed searching for my glasses. They were no where to be found. I looked on the shelf, the sink in the bathroom, the dining room table and my bed once again. But still nothing. Now essentially, without my glasses, I am blind. Not literally, but basically everything around me is fuzzy. So me looking for my glasses was pointless because even if they were right in front of my face, I wouldn't have been able to find them. I was down on my hands and knees searching, when my little sister came upstairs to help me look. When we couldn't find them, she went downstairs to enlist our middle sister and mom to help but to no avail. Finally, Daddy came to the rescue. He went into my room and after a little bit of searching had found them fallen behind the shelf. 

     What sounds like a simple journey of searching for the glasses was actually a catastrophe. For whatever reasons, I had a meltdown, I had been kneeling on the floor, bawling my eyes out in hysterics when my Dad came to help. Any other day I wouldn't have broken down and cried over losing my glasses, but for whatever reason the fact that I wasn't being helped in my blindness really upset my subconscious. I couldn't see and I couldn't drive AND I had to leave the house in five minutes. But in my distress, my Daddy come home just in time to find my glasses. 

      While I was at Mass, I really began to reflect on my blindness. I couldn't see, therefore everything in my life was halted for about a half hour (yes, that's how long it took!). Yet, how many times have I been spiritually blind and carried on? I knew I couldn't drive without my glasses because I would have gotten into an accident. But how many times have I driven in a spiritual blindness only to get into a spiritual accident? We are often so blind when it comes to recognizing God and His goodness in our lives. Sometimes we choose not to see and other times we simply are blinded by so much distraction that we lose sight of God. When I lost my glasses, I had a meltdown. But when we are blinded from God, we often do not break down right away. In distress, yes, we cry out for God, but initially, no. The truth is, all of us suffer from blindness at some point. If we could only become like Velma, and get down on our knees when we become blind and search frantically for the sight of God. 

       Now, once I was on my hands and knees, crying hysterically over my "blindness," my daddy came to the rescue to find my glasses. How many times have we had someone "open our eyes"? Not only did my Daddy and my little sister help me physically find sight again, but they are often ones who help my spiritual blindness, as well. Who are the people in your life that help find your sight of God again?

      Everyone suffers from blindness at some point. When we find ourselves blinded, we must fall to our hands and knees to find our sight again. And just when we have almost given up hope of finding sight, someone will come around to find your glasses. 

Suffering from Amnesia....We All Do It

 Amnesia - noun. a partial or total loss of memory.

    Oh thank you, Webster's Online Dictionary for clarifying! How many of us walk into a room and cannot remember why, only to walk out and remember, to perhaps going back in and forgetting again? Or how many times have we reminded ourselves to do something and yet, we forget? Or how many of us have locked keys in the car? Or forgot to turn on the stove and then wondered why the water was taking so long to boil? Or maybe forgot to grab those directions off the printer before we ran out to the party in no man's land? Or maybe forgot to finish those last three questions on the homework sheet? No matter what we've forgotten, we've all forgotten something. And so, we've all suffered from some form of amnesia.

     But today, I'm not thinking about the typical amnesia. I'm talking about spiritual Amnesia. I'm somewhat stealing this from my Pastor's homily this morning, however, I don't think he will mind. Actually, he just mentioned Amnesia and really this is my spin on it. There are a few types of Spiritual Amnesia, and no it's not...I forgot it was a Friday in Lent and grabbed a hamburger from McDonald's on my lunch break. Rather it's forgetting that God is always with us and forgetting how good we are because of how much He loves us. 

     As I was describing to one of my fellow Parishioners today, God is always with us. I told her that even at the moment when we were standing there, He was there. And when I am walking alone, God is with me. Therefore, I talk. I talk with God as if I am walking with a friend, thanking Him for His beauty, telling Him about how nervous I am about my upcoming test, asking if He's talked with my sisters lately, etc. Yet, how so often we suffer from amnesia when we are walking alone? How often do we forget God in our daily activities? How often do we simply, forget God? Even I, myself, am guilty. Just yesterday when I locked the keys in the car, I forgot God was with me when I prayed, "Where are you, God, in this moment? Where?" 

     And then, we forget how good we are because of His love. We forget how much He wants to be a part of our lives with His love, and we forget how good we actually are. When we are filled with His love, we can be nothing but good people. We are vessels of His love for others, too. And yet, when we think about it, really, truly reflect on His love...how is it possible that we could forget? How could we suffer from such amnesia?

     We are constantly faced with so many reasons to forget God: we are busy, we have too many classes to attend, we need more sleep, we are just constantly on the run. We'd forget our heads if they weren't attached, right? And so, right up there with all the other things we forget, we forget God, too. And yet, in addition to being able to get a Heart Transplant this Lent, by giving God ours in exchange for his, we can also work on our own personal remedy for Amnesia. The truth is, we can easily make a constant effort to remember God. Just as we remind ourselves daily to grab that textbook for class, or the lunch box off the table, we can remind ourselves to remember God. And much sooner than later, remembering God will be just as easy as remembering to brush our teeth!

     And just for kicks, here is one of my favorite songs from Sr. Amnesia from Nunsense. A little rough humor, but good. So you wanna be a nun....

   

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...Home

     As my days at home usually are, this was another busy, busy day of running here, there and everywhere. First, of course, was Mass at my Parish! It was a long day ahead of me after that with a visit to my high school with so many of the baked goods my sister and I made all weekend and then a visit to my older and sick sisters and THEN a doctor's appointment and THEN the concert! Visiting my high school was perfect; always a welcome home into loving arms. With every new person I saw in the hallway, I was greeted with an outburst of happiness and a hug! While many still say it's as if I've never left, and it's true, there was a part of me that felt like it's been entirely too long. However, there is a personal philosophy of mine that whenever I come home, I visit all my homes: my high school and all the convents! It is such an amazing feeling to be welcomed into loving arms. It's a scary thought that the teachers still talk about me to their students and yet, it helps me realize that I've left a legacy. 

      Visiting the sick and older sisters always brings a light of warmth to my heart. Especially when I walk in, and once again am greeted with hugs and love from all of them. First, that alone is a miracle. The second is that they remember my face and name. And then, that they know exactly why I need prayers; my vocation, of course! They are always willing to take my hand, sit, chat and tell me so many stories. No matter how they are feeling, they have time for me! AND they are always praying for me! As I was leaving, after sharing many beautiful moments with the sisters there, I decided that every time I come home, I have to visit there, as well, since I visit all the other convents in the area :)

      As for the doctor's appointment, pray for me. I have an MRI on Thursday which will tell me whether or not I tore something in my knee. COOL! NOT!

      Now finally, the concert at my high school. Let's talk about perfection! I snuck up to the choir loft with a few of the sisters...not that they cared. I was so privileged to sit next to the first sister I ever told about thinking about the convent. The best part was that a few years ago we had gone to a neighboring parish to see Tajci and now there we were again, listening to her beautiful voice! I would love to do what Tajci does: change hearts, one song at a time. I was so excited to listen to all of her Lenten music, all of which I could have easily sung along with. I couldn't help though, but sit back, close my eyes, open my hands and pray with her words of song. They were simply so beautiful! And just like how I never want to stop singing when I'm praising the Lord, she didn't either. When she started to sing "Awesome God" the sisters and I started dancing in the Choir Loft. Tajci asked someone to sing with her and one of my wonderful little sisters did. I was so proud, I started crying. And then again when all my little chorale sisters sang "River in Judea" (our classic) with Tajci. It was just so beautiful. 

     Toward the end of the concert, Sister turned to me, gave me a big hug and said that she was so glad I was there. But it wasn't there, as in the building, but rather in her life. In response, I told her that I am more than blessed to have her. I couldn't help but take her hand and squeeze it. She is such a beautiful, simple and humble woman who I constantly attempt to model my life after. I have no idea where I would be without her, simply because she was the first person I ever told about my vocation. She led me to all the right people, those who love me so dearly, and also without whom I would be so lost. Sharing that night with my sister, my dear, dear sister, was a night I needed. We were connected in prayer and in music. 

     And even though we are far apart most times, I must always remind myself that, "The closest we will ever be is inside each other's hearts." 

Party Rockin' In the Church, Today...KATHARINE DREXEL!!!

‎"I looked up in wonder at god's wonderful ways and thought how littler we imagine what may be the result of listening and acting on a desire God puts into the heart."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     

     Every once in a while, you get blessed with an experience of a lifetime. While, I've had many of those in my lifetime, one of them stands out as yesterday we celebrated St. Katharine Drexel's Feast Day! A little over ten years ago, little third grader me, traveled to Roma, Italy with my familia for a very special occasion. This occasion was the CANONIZATION of our dear Katie D! What an amazing experience!! 

     Ever since I was a wee child, I grew up with the reminder of Katie D. But for the longest time she was Blessed Mother Katharine Drexel, the nun who built a convent in which I found lots of cookies. Hers was a convent I frequented often as a little one, always visiting nuns. But, I never really got to know Katharine until my later years (later meaning high school, of course). 

     I remember once specific Feast Day Mass, at the Cathedral in the city, when I was interviewed by the Catholic Standard. I had left school early that day, so I was in my school uniform. Right away, that draws a reporter to a kid. WHY would the average high school student take off school for an event like Mass? Well, my answer: Why not? This is awesome! She laughed and right away decided I was a down to earth type girl, who would answer any of her questions. She asked what I studied in school, she asked what my family was like, and finally, she asked what my full name was. She almost had a heart attack when I told her. Yep, I was a Gutherman! What had seemed like the end of the interview with the last question, immediately prompted a whole new interview. The final question this time: What is your relationship with Katharine Drexel? My answer: Right now, I'm working on my relationship with my main Man upstairs, the big JC. As for Katie D, she's someone I look up to, but I don't have a too personal relationship with her. Other than that answer giving my dad a heart attack when he read it, my answer prompted me to discover a bit more about Katie D and develop a relationship with her.

      I already knew her story, and my dad's story by heart. But I needed a story, and so, I decided from that moment on, I would do all I could to make it possible. Having a driver's license helped a lot with that. I was able to drive by the Shrine whenever I felt like it or even go to Mass with the sisters there as well. I read more about Katharine's writings and developed that relationship. Now, she isn't St. Katharine Drexel to me...she is Katie D; my girl, Katie D!

      And so, because she's my girl, Katie D, I can say how there was a Party Rockin' in the Church yesterday for her Feast Day mass! If you've ever wanted a multicultural experience, her Chapel on her feast day is one for sure. I was surrounded by Native Americans, African Americans, Asian Americans...oh, and Americans. There was laughter, conversation, food, prayer, singing. EVERYTHING! And the first thing I said to Sister when I walked in was, "Holy Smokes, Katie D is kickin' in Heaven today!" And she agreed! I was so happy to be surrounded by so much excitement! And as I sat with my little sis on my lap, we looked up to the room built over the Chapel where Katharine would watch Mass when she was sick, so see the silhouette of sister waving at us! 

      There is something so peaceful about walking the same hallways as Katharine did and sitting in her pews and touching the walls she built and praying where she prayed. She is my girl, and she's with me all the time! And her words are the words I must truly live my life by: "We must attract them with Joy!" Happy Feast, Girl!