Important to Satan

"When you is precious to God, you become very important to Satan."

- Ron Hall, "Same Kind of Different as Me"

      I haven't written in a while. Today, I am writing to begin my rebellion. It's not going to be easy, clean or fun. But I am rebelling. I'm rebelling against society, negativity and self-doubt. I am putting on armor and volunteering as tribute. I am rebelling against Satan himself - because you know what? He's getting on my nerves. 

      I tell my students often: "Be the woman, to whom, when she wakes up, Satan says, 'o crap, she's up.'" In the past few weeks and maybe even the past few months, I haven't been listening to my own advice. Instead of placing my feet on the ground in the morning and challenging Satan to battle each day, I've let him win too many times. In fact, I haven't even put up a fight some days. And as a result, I've become my own worst enemy. So yesterday, I decided I'm putting an end to Satan's winning streak. Like I say to my students, "Bro has GOT TO GO." 

      If you follow me on Facebook, you may have read my most recent Facebook status. Or you may have received a text from me or a phone call. I simply asked for your prayers. I asked for a few seconds of your day and a prayer in my intention. This came as a result of me realizing that I couldn't do it on my own anymore. I couldn't keep fighting Satan without back-up. If I continued, I would have lost miserably. But I asked for you to follow me into battle. I asked for you to prayer. And if Satan thought for a second he could win after that, then he was poorly mistaken. Yesterday, because of all my prayer warriors, Satan lost. And today - he lost again. 

       Many young people do not believe in Satan anymore. Or if they do believe in Satan, they do not accredit him with the "bad things." I know this because I teach a lot of young people. But I can also tell you that a lot of older people do not believe in Satan. I have heard many people accredit God with the bad things in life. How many people ask the question: "why does God let bad things happen?" Well the truth is, it's a two fold answer. God doesn't let bad things happen - rather he allows people to utilize/abuse the gift of free will. And if we let Him, God can make right with the wrongs. This is an uncommon belief, but I believe it. 

       And I believe that those who are most precious to God, the ones who speak to God the most, the ones who trust Him greatly, are the ones Satan puts at the top of his list. Because honestly - who is the biggest threat to Satan? Those who have completely entrusted their lives to God, those who live out His will, serve others in His name, and those who are not afraid to show their faith. It's those who go to Mass on Sunday and serve Him all week long in between Sundays. It's those who put on the armor of Christ and battle the war on Satan with their weapons of prayer. 

       I am a young person. I am a young person who vibrantly lives out her Catholic faith by being a Catechist, participating in the Mass as an Eucharistic Minister or Lector, running youth group, bible studies and praying like my life depends on it - because my young life does depend on it. So it's no wonder I'm top on Satan's list. If he destroys me, he gets to a lot of others. And you know what - it's flattering really. I know that God chooses the strong ones to put at the front of the battle line. And I know that's where I was this week. 

       So what does an attack by Satan look or feel like. Well, let me just give you a small view. It looks like the pictures of all my friends who go to the gym. Of course I'm happy for them. But it's the follow-up thought: you're fat. Thanks, Satan. I appreciate that. Or it looks like the green monster of jealousy when I see young people my age seemingly figuring out their lives - whether it's going to grad school, getting engaged or raising a family. It's the follow-up thought: what will you ever amount to? If you're the same age and you haven't accomplished any of what they have. It's the fears of feeling inadequate. It's the tears that follow each lie I'm given by Satan and I start believing him. 

      And maybe many won't agree with me. But I know that I've been victimized by Satan recently. I am sure of it. Because if I start praying for strength - Satan tells me God won't listen. But I know that it is the oldest lie in the book. My God DOES listen to me. And I know He listens to my friends and family members. I know God listens. I know He does because I received unexpected hugs today from colleagues, I received texts of support from those I haven't heard from, and I received promises of prayer. I received an army of angels surrounding me with armor. I know I'm not in this battle alone. 

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies Part Two

"Holding a baby is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

How all they do is wave their arms and reach for your 

face and watch your every move. The way their little fingers

wrap all around your single one and their tiny toes

squirm all about. And when they sleep, surely it's an angel

in your arms. It's as beautiful holding the new life as it is 

holding the hand of an elderly person.

The peace is unexplainable."

- "Becca-ism"

    I cannot help but continue to reiterate how blessed my year has been. I am continuously simply in awe of His mighty goodness. I am so grateful for all God has given me. Once before, not too long ago, I did a blog post on nuns and babies. Well, friends, here's a part two. God has been so generous to me that I simply good not pass up this chance to once again proclaim my love for nuns and babies.

    Last night, slightly spur of the moment, my Dad, little sister and I decided to visit my aunt, uncle and seven cousins. Yes, that's right, I said seven cousins. You see, in our family, having lots of kids is pretty common. My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Maryanne have taken the cake on having the most kids. Not only that, but they also have the youngest kids, the youngest of whom is my most precious God-daughter. Last week, Emily turned one. That's a big deal for a little princess, you know. So part of our reason to go over was to give her her present. When we got there, it was close to seven. When we left, it was close to nine. Those two hours went by faster than you can believe.

    I'm known to be the biggest little kid in my family. I'm always the older cousin running around with the babies. I'm usually outside playing football with the younger boys or playing teacher or dress up with the girls. I'm not the older cousin who stands around contemplating the universe over a wine cooler. Nope, I'm playing with the kids. Last night was no different. I walked into the living room and as my dad tackled his brother, I wrestled the two boys into a big hug. My cousins, Albert and Charles, were dressed in super hero pajamas and so, being the teacher that I am, I asked them all about the superheros. Then I asked if I could be one. So, guess who I got to be?! Wonderwoman. I didn't know this, but apparently she has a lasso that forces the person in the lasso to tell the truth. So, I started a little game with the boys. If I caught them in my arms, my "lasso," they had to tell me one truth. Well our truths turned into riddles which the other made up. At 8 o'clock, the clock chimed and my aunt told the boys they had to go to bed. They almost cried because they didn't want to. Heck, I even cried. So, I asked if I could take the boys up to bed. 

       Now, I forgot to mention that every time one of the boys got an answer right to the question while in the lasso, they got a turkey five. They loved this and it had them deep belly laughing. It had me hysterically laughing, too. When we got to the top of the stairs, the boys were supposed to go to the bathroom and then go brush their teeth. Well, as little boys tend to do, they did NOT want any parts of this at all. So, I told them they if they didn't do their bedtime routine, they wouldn't get a Turkey Five. Didn't that do the trick?! Of course, I think the boys' favorite part was riding me up the stairs. Long ago, I had mastered the method of being able to carry at least three kids on me at one time. With only two of them, it was easy. Albert was on my back and Charles clung to me like a baby koala bear on the front. When they finished in the bathroom, they got to ride dinosaur Becca to their bedroom. Then I stood up, rolled down the blankets, and catapulted them into their beds. Of course, I had to tickle them until they laid down and then I tucked them in. My aunt came in for a good night kiss and then I demanded one, too. Of course, my good night kiss ended in a little blessing on their foreheads. 

       While I didn't get to hold my goddaughter much last night since she herself was getting ready for bed, I did get to play with her little brothers. Children, I very firmly believe, are closer to the angels than I'll ever be during my time here on Earth. In fact, they are angels themselves. I never tire of hanging out with my little cousins and I really wish they could all stay so little forever. My cousins give me the chance to be the kid I have inside. They give me a chance to kiss and hug angels. They give me a chance to play with the divine. I went home last night and couldn't have been happier. One might think that spending all this time with kids would make me want to have kids of my own and yes, this is true. But more often then not, spending time with all these kids make me want only be a that crazy Sister aunt lady who gets to play with all the kids because she doesn't have any of her own. This is especially so when my cousins answer the riddle: What do you call a traveling nun? By saying, "You, Becca?" Ha, yes, kids, I am an eventual traveling nun.

        When talking about my adventures with the kiddos last night, I mentioned that playing with them is as close to the divine as I can get aside from holding the hands of the elderly. This morning, I was blessed enough not only to go to Mass at the SBS Motherhouse, where my good friend, Katie D, once lived, but also to visit my other good friend, Sister Ruth Catherine. I had been told that Sister's memory is going and I was nervous that she wouldn't recognize me but when I went up to her room after Mass, she was so excited to see "her Becky." She had me sit down on her bed and then we chatted. I found triumph in only having to retell one story twice; all the others we only had to do once. Today was a good day for her. Toward the end of our visit, after asking me about how much I love teaching, she asked: "You know, Becky, I know you'll make a great teacher. Have you ever thought of religious life?" Sister Ruth asks me this question during every visit, I think because she just wants the thrill of hearing me say yes. So today, I told her: "All the time, Sister. In fact, never have I felt this much peace in my life until finally admitting to myself that I know where and to whom I belong." She grasped me hand, kissed my forehead and spoke with such joy in her voice. I smiled, almost cried, and thanked God for yet another triumph. She later linked my arm as we walked out of her room and I kissed her cheek goodbye with the reminder that I am always praying for her. She's simply beautiful.

       Yes truly, a few of my favorite things are nuns and babies. This Thanksgiving break, I got both my nun fix and my baby fix. I was so happy. I am so grateful. Both of these events gave me enough joy and stamina to get through these next two weeks of school before Christmas break. There is much to look forward to in these last two weeks and I know there will be so much for which I am grateful. Thank you, God, for baby cousins and nuns! And just a shout out to my favorite missed connection nun who called me while I was in the middle of this blog post: How big WAS that Rudolph blow up in the yard? Love you, AF! 

Angels Among Us: A Summary

"I believe there are angels among us,

Sent down to us from somewhere up above.

They come to you and me in our darkest hours

to show us how to live, to teach us how to give

and to guide us with the light of love."

- "Angels Among Us," Alabama

The Smiles Say It All

     I had finally gotten a power tool in my hands when all of a sudden (it seemed) it was time to head on out for the day. While I was teaching my RA, Caiti, how to use a power screw driver to screw screws into what would eventually be a dog house, the rest of our group was filling out evaluations; it was our last day on the worksite. I had spent most of the days mudding/spackling the walls of Miss Sande's living room, bedrooms, kitchen and closets. Trust me, it's tedious work. And actually, it's quite a pain in the butt...especially when they tell the short girl to mud/spackle the ceiling. I can't tell you how many times I dropped mud on my face, in my hair, on my clothing. I felt absolutely disgusting afterward and my body ached from reaching high and bending backwards to float, skim and doctor the ceilings and walls. However, as we sat as a group on Miss Sande's back porch filling out evaluations and listening to our site leaders, it all came together for me.

    I have never been on the NOLA January trip. In fact, I will honestly say, I like NOLA in the Summer better because of the weather. I'm not about this cold weather in the South nonsense. Going on this trip was completely out of my comfort zone because even though I knew everyone, I didn't know anyone. It was going to be a completely different trip than what I was used to: nights were longer, sun was weaker, schedule was crazier. Yet, I felt this strange whisper in my heart that kept saying, "Go, go, go, go back to the place you love so much." And so I applied and then got accepted. Ironically enough, a few weeks later, I got accepted for the Peru Service Trip which would most likely take place during the same time as the May NOLA trip. I understood that God understood my desire to go to NOLA at least once a year. However, even as I pulled up to the airport, I was questioning the reasons why God was sending me to NOLA at this time.

    I felt I was jipping my sisters of my Christmas Break time. I felt like I didn't belong with the people and friends in our Work Crew. I felt so out of my comfort zone. Yet, this is the life I so desire. I desire to be a missionary and leave home. I desire to work with strangers. I desire to go out of my comfort zone. But even still, I was doubting God working in my life through this trip. So, as I sat on the plane, I closed my eyes and prayed: God, keep my heart open to Your will. As I nodded off to sleep, God began opening my heart.

    As we visited the French Quarter, I saw monuments and attractions all so familiar. I almost had no desire to be there. Instead, I was wanting so badly to be in my work clothes and building. But, it was New Year's Eve and so, every worksite was closed for the day. So, we found ourselves doing to the same activities in the Quarter, that I had done two times prior. I shopped a little and continued to doubt God's work. 

   This doubt continued through Mass at St. Louis Cathedral, through priming a shotgun house in a pretty bad neighborhood, to building boxes at Second Harvest Food Bank, to serving the homeless and hungry dinner at the New Orleans Mission, to even mudding the walls and ceilings of Miss Sande's house. Why was I here? I kept thinking. I was seeing no change; no change in the people and no change in me. I found myself spending a lot of personal quiet time on the worksite, at our other volunteer opportunities and even while we were back at the house. I was seeking for an answer. At the end of the week, I had almost given up and I had stopped searching for a reason why I was there. And when I stopped searching, God gave me the reason.

    Go back to the image of us all sitting on Miss Sande's back porch. We had filled out the evaluations, we had listed our highs and lows of the week with our leaders Megan and Cait, and given out some thank you gifts to them as well. We had one final gift to give and that was to Miss Sande. It was a Mardi Gras Bead Art image of the Immaculata School Symbol which we had all signed. As we handed her the frame, she immediately began on a Miss Sande Story. 

      Throughout the week we had each heard various Miss Sande Stories and other mentions of her wisdom. We had each been able to piece together her story of suffering, rebirth and how she came to have her house a part of the St. Bernard Project. But this story was different than any other Miss Sande story; this story was about angels. 

      As she spoke, Miss Sande referred to all of us as her angels. She told us how without God's Angels coming to work on her house, her house would still be non-existent in the Post-Katrina era. She kept calling us her angels over and over and over again. And each time she did, the lump in my throat got bigger and bigger until finally, I let the tears roll down my cheeks. I got it. I understood. God sent me there to meet Miss Sande. Little does she know that she was an angel to me. She was God for me. 

     All my life, all I have ever wanted to do was help change lives. When I was younger I thought that there were so many people in our world that needed me. But as I got older, I realized, there are so many people in our world that I need. I needed Miss Sande more than she needed me. So what I put a little mud on her walls and helped build her six dogs an outdoor living space. Miss Sande helped me realize that the little bit I did, helped. Without the mud and spackle, no paint could go up. Yes that's true! 

     A few years ago, I stopped looking to change the whole world. I narrowed my goal down to change a few lives. But this week, I made a complete turn around. I started looking for people to change my life! Yes, I did help Miss Sande and yes, this past week I was an angel for her. But more than I was for her, she was for me. She was the angel I needed in my life. She reminded me that I don't need all the things in the world to be happy. She reminded me that my little hands could get roughed up and change a life. But mostly she reminded me that although I may doubt God's mission for me, He is always working through me...whether it's my hands, my heart or my smile. She reminded me of something that I so often neglect to believe in, something that I am always telling others but never telling myself: Miss Sande reminded me of my own goodness. She reminded me that I can actually be an angel. Miss Sande, in being an angel herself, reminded me of the same. And so, this NOLA trip, angels united. 

     I can't thank Miss Sande enough for breaking through to my heart...for being willing enough to risk that journey! She is a beautiful woman of God! Yes, there are angels among us! I am home now, but no matter where we are, there are angels among us.