Adios y Via Con Dios

"Senor, me has mirado a los ojos,

sonriendo has dicho mi nombre,

el la arena he dejado mi barca,

junto a ti, buscare otro mars."

- Cesareo Gabarain, "Pescador de Hombres"

     Typically, when a college student has the "retired dean" as her teacher, she would be nervous and perhaps very wary on taking the class. Me, however? I was ecstatic. While Sister Elaine and I go as far back as my Freshmen year as "Tuesday Pew Buddies," our relationship was merely that. The only interaction that entailed was a secret handshake at the sign of peace that varied weekly. She was the academic dean of the undergraduate students. So, if you saw her, you were probably in trouble. But last semester, she had found herself out from her office and back in the classroom. Poor girl had to deal with me and five of my friends as her only students in her Ancient and Medieval Literature. As quickly as she went from dean to teacher, she went from teacher to mentor. Sister Elaine, in a few short weeks, became well....like a sister to me. 

     I remember it clear as day: yet another MyIU email sent out to cloud every IU student's inbox. Usually, I would read the subject box and if it didn't apply to me, I'd delete it. But this one was different. I opened it and read, realizing it was the trip I so badly wanted to go on: Peru IHM Mission Experience. And who was running to show but Sister Elaine. So, I expressed my desire to go to her but so much was on my plate that I didn't even get to think of what I was going to write for my application when I realized it was past the due date. That's when Sister pulled me aside and asked where my application was. Taking my chances, I asked for an infamous extension and it was granted. I emailed her my application over Thanksgiving and with much enthusiasm, she replied to tell me to start saving now. No one else had heard back. I thought I was dreaming. I said nothing to anyone about anything. It couldn't be true. There was no way I had been chosen as one of the four students to travel to Peru. A few days later, the official email went out and I found myself beginning a new journey. 

     Tonight, I sit here after having just gone to the movies (I'm a little reckless, I know!) and am thinking how blessed I am. Of course, I'm typing away hastily trying to shove the anxiety back down into my stomach. Writing distracts me. That's a secret you should all know by now. It's also what I do best! I still can't quite grasp the fact that tomorrow, I will be leaving my country for another. Not for vacation, not for tourism, but to maybe make a difference. I won't be staying for a week, or ten days, but a month. I won't be living in a hotel, a condo but a convent. I'll be wearing one of four pairs of pants, or maybe one of two pairs of shorts and one of the seven t-shirts I packed. I hope it doesn't rain because the one jacket I'm bringing, isn't water proof. Oh, and I know maybe a few phrases in Spanish. Good thing I'll be teaching English! This may be one of the most spontaneous and nerve-wrecking things I have ever done but it's a beginning to a future I have always desired. 

     I live for those spur of the moment moments where there is little planning and I can fit all I need for this spontaneity in one bag. Well, I have two this time, but that's okay. I desire that simplicity of a world traveling missionary. I want nothing more to travel the world lending my heart and hands to those in need. And here I am, one year after my first international trip to Jamaica, the night before I leave for Peru. I am excited and nervous and anxious all in one, as any of you could imagine. I don't know a soul down in Peru, I don't know much about anything for this trip. All I know, is that I am exactly where God wants me at this moment in time. I know that God is going to take care of me no matter what and I know that this is all part of His most beautiful plan for my life. 

      As I travel tomorrow, I'll be simple. A pair of shoes, jeans, a shirt and a sweater. I'll be wearing an eight dollar watch, a simple silver band on my left ring finger, and my curly hair will most likely be wild and crazy; there's no taming it. I'll be wearing a smile and carrying in my heart all who I leave behind. But most importantly, my sisters and my parents. While this is something I have always desired, this will be a true test and taste of what the rest of my life will be like. Can my parents and sisters let me go? Can they stand not being able to talk to me? Will they be okay? ..... Will I be okay being so far away and so out of touch? People have told me I am fearless. I have no fear of people or what people could do. I seemingly am not afraid to reach out and touch a stranger, or do something so crazy (like leave for a month). But the truth is, I have one fear in this life long mission of mine: can my heart stand being so far away from those I love?

      So to all of you, who are excited and worried and just as anxious as I am for my mission trip, please know that I love you. I love you so much, that the very thought of being so far away from you all, fills my heart with some sort of anguish. But in saying that, I carry you all with me in my heart. I can sleep tonight with no worries because all of you are praying for me, more than I think I can even fathom. I will let my excitement run my dreams tonight. I'm not quite sure what kind of technology I will be blessed with down in Peru. If I could, I'd go without it but I know my parents and many of you will be worrying. So, look for a message here and there from the good ole Peru. I can't thank you enough, especially all my church ladies (and gents) who gave me my final blessing this morning at Mass, for all the prayers and support not only for now and this little journey of mine, but throughout my entire discernment journey. I am so blessed to have such beautiful people in my life. Of course, I kind of owe this all to my dear monjita, Sister Elaine. Thanks, girl. Don't worry, I'll give you EVERY DETAIL about this journey! And so, Adios y via con dios, mis amors. I can't wait to meet and love so many new monjitas and ninos. Te amo!

My "Nun-Alcoholic" 21st Birthday - A True Story

"Well, old girl, you look good. 

But, you should probably invest in some anti-aging cream.

From all your laughter, you're definitely going to go wrinkly."

- Sr. Rose Caritas

     "These are your last few hours before you're no longer twenty," Sister Rose said to me.

     "Thanks for the reminder, Seeeeeester."

     "You should probably live it up," Sister Cathy yelled after me as I walked away from Wednesday night's fire pit carrying a box of s'mores supplies. 

      I rolled my eyes as I almost tripped up the stairs inside. I reshelved the box of s'mores and headed up to my temporary home on the third floor. The floor was damp and the room was dark because I forgot to leave the single lamp lit so I wouldn't trip over my shoes. My room was slightly in order, as it usually goes when you're only staying in a place for a few days. At least my bed was made. The windows were wide open, something I had done the previous night, and I could hear the subtle roar of the ocean and the crash of the waves upon the shore. The sea-salt air was the only fragrance I could smell. Well, that and the clothes I had gone swimming in a few hours previous. Despite the anxiety of what was to come the next day, I felt a peace in my heart that only the ocean and nuns could bring me. I felt as if I was experiencing a small piece of Heaven. 

      The sound of my SEARCH Retreat theme song woke me from my sleep at 5:05 the next morning. Rolling over, I hit the snooze button twice and then finally, rolled out of bed. I shuffled down the hallway that could easily be mistaken for the inside of a immigrant ship from the early 1900s. I tip-toed down the creaky staircase in my socks while carrying my shoes and Christian Prayer book. Although no one was actually around, I was trying to be as quiet as possible walking up the pathway to the beach. Suddenly, I smelt a distant skunk spray which I quickly realized wasn't so distant when I saw him with his tail in the air. Needless to say, I ran. 

      "Wouldn't that be a birthday to remember," I said and laughed out loud; it was just me and Jesus out this early.

      The sunrise was covered by some clouds so it wasn't anything spectacular. I found myself thanking God that I made it to another year. For almost an hour, I snuggled with the salt air and the sand. I listened to the sound of the ocean and knew that today would just absolutely be a most beautiful day. 

      A few hours later, our large group of thirty students and nuns galore gathered in the dining room for another beautifully prepared meal before heading to work. I was chatting with my friends at one corner of the table when suddenly, Sister Cathy began directing a thirty second symphony of "Happy Birthday." That song has to literally be the most awkward, most intimidating and most anxiety-providing song in history; I hate it. There's nothing I dread more in the world than being sung that song. But at least it was over now. 

      The day continued like the others had been before for the exception of the occasional birthday greeting and hug from one of my IHM Sisters or friends. Yes, on my birthday I spent half of my day cleaning and scrubbing bedrooms in the Sisters' Summer Retreat house on the beach. I wouldn't have had it any other way. At one point I found a little something on my bed from my dear Sister Mary who I had spent so much time with. She left a card and a package of tissues. Later, I asked her if she left the tissues because she knew I was going to cry when reading her letter. She just laughed.

      After cleaning, we gathered for lunch and then prepared to head to Cape May for the afternoon. We got changed, dressed up a bit and then stood in the street trying to figure out how many vehicles would have to travel. We gathered in the school van, my mom van and the postulant mobile to excursion down the Garden State Expressway. I can honestly say that even though I was driving, having my friends in the back seats literally made it one of the most memorable half hour trips. 

       "We were watching you guys have such a good time from behind you," Sister Mary Jo said when we finally parked. 

       "Uhhhh...thanks!" we responded in harmony.

       We had had the radio turned all the way up and my friends were casually partaking in a self-proclaimed dance party. The car ride was full of laughter and good times. We "landed" and the first place the car full of English Majors headed to was the book store. We simply walked through little stores and admired the nice weather. And I had my first "drink" of a bottle of coca-cola. Two hours went by exceedingly fast and before we knew it we were back in the van and getting lost. It's not a real trip with the nuns unless you go the wrong way on a one way road or get lost. 

       Throughout my day, I received many text messages, facebook wall posts, tweets, phone calls and skype messages. I was laughing and feeling so blessed at every single on, but especially at the skype message I received from my CSFN sisters in Chicago. I showed almost all of my friends because it was absolutely hysterical. My favorite line was: "Now, we can have our glass of wine." I had left my phone upstairs all day but every so often when I got the chance to check it, it was overwhelming how much love I was receiving. Truly, I felt blessed.

       Having spent my birthday with the sisters last year, I had some idea of what was going to happen. I don't ever really like having the spotlight on me, so often, I hide "behind the scenes" and do the back work. So, while every one was preparing for a surprise for the Seniors, I was helping out with the dishes before sitting down again. Of course, one of the sisters said that you can't have a birthday without cake. So, I got to share in on the Graduation celebration and it was beautiful. Especially when my Hispanic lovebugs sang to me in Spanish. They always make me so happy; I love them! After ice cream and cake was served, I snuck into the kitchen to help Sister Elaine with the bigger dishes. 

       Over the big industrial sized sink is a large window that looks out over the bay. The two of us were standing there elbow deep in suds and water when we stopped to admire the sun setting for a few  seconds.

       "Here, finish these. I'll go get the car keys," Sister Elaine said to me as she handed me the last of the ice cream dishes. 

        Before I knew it, I was being kidnapped by my English teacher. I've blogged a few times about adventures with Sister Elaine but this one certainly takes the cake. We drove down the street and found a spot by the bay were we just sat in silence on the old, wooden stairs that lead straight into the water. Every so often one of us would say something, but for the most part we simply sat in silence and listened and watched. The birds were singing from all around. We could hear the sounds of the couple fishing a few feet next to us as well as the lapping of the water against the pier. The sun set was so absolutely beautiful. At that moment, I felt so infinity loved. Suddenly, tears were simply flowing down my cheeks. This was certainly a birthday I could never forget. But it wasn't over yet.

        When we got back to Villa Maria by the Sea, there was an intense game of whiffle ball going on. After some crazy looks from the other sisters, because they suddenly realized I went missing and went missing with Sister Elaine (seriously...the two of us together is a recipe for disaster at times), I was pulled into being permanent catcher for the game. While this worked out fantastically for the first half hour, at one point, my ring flew off my finger with the whiffle ball and we had to pause the game momentarily to find it. Then, the mother in Sister Cathy, gently demanded she hold onto my rings for the remainder of the time. The game ended in a passive truce as it got too dark to see anything anymore so we continued to day with another fire in the back yard. 

       My sense of time was essentially gone that week but especially that day. I had no idea what time it was and it didn't matter. I spent the day full of laughter and feeling so very loved. I usually have such a hard time letting people really love and appreciate me, but so many of my sisters broke through that tough barrier I hold up. I fell asleep that night thanking God for the best 21st birthday a girl could ever have. And the best part was that, it was "Nun-Alcoholic." Yep, no alcohol, just full of my sisters and my friends at the beach. When asked if I was sad I wasn't home and able to go out for my birthday by one of the sisters, I simply said, "Sister, didn't you turn 21 in the convent? I'm just trying to bring back tradition!"

       The next morning, I woke up for the sunrise and couldn't stop thanking God for the most beautiful birthday the day before. After cleaning and packing the car that morning, I found myself sharing a stoop with Sister Elaine. We slowly drank our coffee and simply let the sun warm our faces. In that moment, I knew God was doing something so extraordinary with my life. I felt infinite. 

       I can't thank all the people who I spent my birthday with enough. Truly, I am blessed. It's not every day you here someone say they spent their 21st in the convent and that it was "nun-alcoholic." Yeah, I'm one lucky gal. 

I Know My Call...

"I know my call despite my faults, and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope. I'll find strength in pain. I'll know my name as it's called again."

- Mumford and Sons

     As I walked up the front steps in just my wool sweater, I thought, the first thing I'll hear when I walk through the door is, "Where is your coat, young lady?" And as the front door swung open without my having to ring the bell, what was I greeted with but, "Where is your coat, young lady?" I couldn't help but laugh. No, I wasn't visiting my Mommom; I was visiting my nun. Yep, she's pretty much my grandmother. 

     Walking up the front steps was nothing new for me; It's something I've been doing for about five years and it never ceases to bring such a happy smile to my face. This was a place I called home so many times. And even as we prepared lunch in the kitchen, the sisters said, "You know where things belong better than we do sometimes." It's true, that kitchen is my favorite place in the whole house. I've often said that the best discernment is done in the kitchen, by cooking, eating and cleaning with each other; the sisters seem to satisfy that desire of mine. It might have to do with my Italian heritage, but I simply find the best conversation is done over a meal. Anyway, today, I was home. 

    My nun, my best friend, my dearest sister, my mama penguin, all of the above and more, invited me over (finally) for a long chat and lunch. Oh how I've missed her. It was our chance to finally catch up after so many months. Even though when I visit my high school, I see her, I don't get the chance to catch up and so, there was a lot of catching up to do. I told her all that had happened, all that was happening and all that should be happening. And she did the same for me!! Of course, then we had lunch together at my favorite table. 

    You see, there's the kitchen and then there's the dining room. I love the dining room, but the kitchen is my favorite. There's a little table in there that supposedly seats four, but really, however many you want. No matter what time of day you walk into the kitchen there is always someone at the table and always coffee in the pot. It's the congregating place of the house and without a doubt, there's always a small nun party going on. And that's exactly what we walked into; a nun party. We had lunch with so many sisters who came in and out, and it was just like home. People coming and going and eating and cooking and talking and washing and drying. Sitting around the table, I felt right at home; like I belonged. When I looked down, I half expected myself to be wearing a habit, it felt so perfect. 

    After lunch, me and my nun when to the Chapel, not only to pray, but to clean! I was so excited to be cleaning Chapel, that the sisters must have thought there was something wrong with me. But truthfully, back in High School, I would catch my nun every Friday cleaning, and I would sneak in to pray until she asked me to help her. It became such a ritual and it's part of the reason she and I became so close. You see, she was the first sister I ever told I was thinking about being a sister. And from that moment during my Sophomore year, she quietly prayed for and encouraged me. She never once pressured me into choosing a lifestyle, but rather opened my eyes to her lifestyle.   I spent more time with her talking about my fears and joys and dreams than I had with any other sister. She was the reason I started visiting the convent and she's the reason I keep coming back. While she wasn't the first nun in my life, she is certainly the most influential. Truly, if it wasn't for her, I'd still be trembling in fear of the very idea of entering religious life. I never would have explored the vocation, or be nearly as outspoken about it as I am now. She is the type of sister we all look back to; the sister who opened our eyes and ears to the call. There are so many sisters I know now because of her, and while she is probably reading this now, humbly thinking, not me, it's all true. Many say they don't know where they would be without a certain person, but I know where I'd be; not here and not nearly as close to God. And even though she doesn't know this, sometimes when I want to give up on this vocation and tell God, the deal is over, I think of her smile and her joy and think, "Yeah, that's the life I want." Because "I know my call despite my faults, and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope. I'll find strength in pain. I'll know my name as it's called again." And she is my hope. 

They Call Me Becky...

"What's in a name, if by any other name, a rose still smells as sweet." - Shakespeare

      Even though I always introduce myself to new people with my full name, Rebecca, I am always never referred to as a Rebecca. When I was younger the only people who would use my full name were my parents...when I was in trouble. I would hear, "REBECCA LYNN!!!!!!!!!!!!" roar from wherever my parents were. I assume for a little while my grandparents all referred to me as Rebecca, but mostly everyone called me Becca. That was, until, I met the nuns. 

      Growing up, every Christmas Eve we went to Mass at the convent. After Mass was always a treat of cookies and milk or hot cocoa. Aside from my Dad promising the sisters he was going to send me to them when I turned 16 (which he didn't), the only other thing I vividly remember is being called "Becky" by the sisters. No one ever, ever, EVER referred to me as Becky except for them. I guess to others I just didn't appear to be a Becky.

      Fast forward quite a few years to when I was 12 and my littlest sister was born. While our middle sister referred to me as CaCa, short for BecCA, little Lizzie has never called me anything but Becky. We had stopped visiting the convent for Christmas eve Mass by this point and so now, the only person to call me Becky was my little sis. 

      Fast forward once more to my Sophomore year of high school. Since our class was so small (a little less than 125 girls), there were only two Rebeccas. One of us went by Becca, me, and the other, by Becky. One afternoon I emailed my Biology teacher a question about homework and signed it, Rebecca. The next day in class, she addressed the question as being sent in by "Becky". She was searching the room for, "Becky" and even asked where "Becky" was. I looked right at her and said, "She's in the other class." She laughed and said told me I was a good joke-teller. Only then did it occur to me that she was talking about me. Fail. So in my high school years, the sisters and I got extremely close, as you can imagine, and while some who  I told to call me Becca, many of the sisters still always say, "Hi, Becky." 

       Today, once again in Biology class, my teacher called on me and called me, "Becky." While everyone else in the room exchanged questioning looks, I answered her without thinking twice. She's not the only sister here at school who refers to me as Becky. Whether I've had them in class, or have shared a pew or even worked for them as portress, I've been called Becky so many times before. I have finally deducted that it must be a nun thing. 

        I find it interesting how the sisters, without a doubt, have consistently called me Becky, even sisters in various, different communities. Many of my friends, who aren't used to calling me Becky always give me a questioning look that I just shrug off. I kind of really like being called Becky, especially if it's only by the sisters. It's just a cute, little connection, that is unique to only us. No one else can call me Becky and no one else understands how much I love it. Maybe one day, when it comes time to take my religious name, I'll tell them how much I loved it!