Chosen and Precious - Baccalaureate Mass

"Behold I am laying a stone in Zion, 

a cornerstone, chosen and precious."

- 1 Peter 2:6

     On Tuesday morning I found myself driving the oh so familiar drive to Immaculata. There were no students about as the semester had ended for the Summer last Monday and the hallways were quiet. I walked the familiar walk to the music hall where I had often spent time practicing for one thing or another. I couldn't stand the silence that surrounded me in the building. But before I knew it, I was back to making noise. I was lucky enough to get to spend three hours practicing for Baccalaureate with Sister Regina. 

     Yes, for three hours both in the music hall and in the chapel at Villa Maria H of S, we practiced every single piece for Baccalaureate Mass. Sister handed me my binder and told me I had a few days left to practice. Cue nerves. I ended my day, as I end most if not all visits to the noble hill, with a visit to Sister Cathy. Truly it would have been an incomplete day without seeing my Sister Sunshine. 

     The week went by quickly and before I knew it, I was once again in the car, traveling the familiar way to IU. This time, however, I had to keep telling myself to keep it together. I was more nervous than I had ever been before. I'm not a music major, but I have always loved to sing. At IU, I was blessed to be a cantor for Mass for the past four years. That led to me being the cantor for our Baccalaureate Mass. While I may always seem to have all my ducks in a row when I'm singing, I am actually terrified out of my mind. However, I grew used to the congregation at IU, which usually consisted of my friends and some nunnies, and singing there wasn't nearly as bad. Today, however, I would be singing in front of my class, many of whom had no idea I sing, their families, and of course, the nunnies. Something about that Chapel, which usually always has me at peace, terrified me. Maybe it was the strong acoustics, maybe it was the amount of the people in the congregation, I don't know. Regardless, I knew I was scared out of my mind. My hands were so jittery I could hardly hold my binder. However, the moment the music began, I looked out at the people, saw all my best friends, saw my family AND saw all my nunnies. 

      A singer always knows that she must find a spot in the room to look so as to not see a particular person and get emotional. However, as a cantor one must find a few spots because she must always "use her eyes to invite the people in to sing," at least that's what they told me when I was younger. So, I found a Sister in every section of the chapel. Suddenly, the jitters were gone and when I looked up at the crucifix behind me really quickly, I knew I was going to be okay. Everything came as if I was born singing those hymns, that psalm and that tortuous alleluia verse that we had to re-write twice. I wasn't nervous anymore because I realized I was no longer singing for any particular person in that Chapel, I was singing for the greater glory of God. I was happy. I closed my eyes and sang, feeling so incredibly free. 

      Of course, something else that comes with the worries of being a cantor or in a choir is Communion. At school, the choir and the organist always received Communion before we sang the Communion hymn. For Baccalaureate, the choir received Communion during the song. Then there was me. Before Mass, we had planned it all out that I would receive Communion after the song. And so, as I was at the lectern singing, I felt the fear of being forgotten for Communion. But then I saw Sister Carol tap the Deacon and remind him that I needed to be taken care of. I smiled and waited for the end. However, when I went around the side to receive the Eucharist, I realized, as Jesus was being put back in the Tabernacle, that my fear had come true. And so with a very heavy heart, I went back to my seat in the choir. I tried so incredibly hard not to cry and told myself that I needed to keep it together. 

      As I was sitting in the choir section behind the altar, I kept hearing my name be called. I would look around and there would be no one calling my name. When I say that I had to try really hard not to cry, I'm being so honest. It wasn't a type of cry that I had ever experienced before. My heart actually felt like it burst because I didn't receive my Jesus. I was so upset and yet, I still kept hearing my name being called. Finally, I just let it go. I resolved to say that I would probably get up early on Sunday and go to an early Mass just so I could receive my Jesus. But even as we were singing the Recessional Hymn, my heart was so heavy and I couldn't focus on the harmony piece I was supposed to be singing. When we finished singing, I took a deep breath and began to walk away. But I heard my name being called again. I was beginning to think I was going crazy when I turned around and saw Sister Marita Carmel coming towards me. 

      When she was close enough she asked, "Bec, would you like to go to Communion?" I smiled and felt from the bottom of my heart the "please" that came out of my mouth. She opened the Tabernacle and right there on the altar, I finally received Communion. As she held up the Holy Eucharist before me and said, "the Body of Christ," I was already crying too hard to give an audible, "Amen." When she put the chalice back in the Tabernacle and turned to me, I hugged her so tightly. I let me tears flow freely and she didn't let go. When she did, she took my hands, looked into my eyes and I saw that she was holding back her tears. I hugged her again and thanked her. When we walked off the altar, a group of Sisters was standing there waiting for us. I got so many hugs from all of them and Sister Elaine even said, "Well, Sister Carmel beat the twelve of us who were going to make sure you got Communion." 

       As usual, I was one of the last people to leave the Motherhouse (even my family left before me) and I spent my time taking pictures with Sisters (and Postulants and Novices), including a selfie with the Mother General (see above), hugging my friends and their families, and yes, reflecting on my incredible blessings. As I drove home, I couldn't stop thanking God not only for allowing me to sing with a strong voice during Mass, but also for all the Sisters who were so ready to jump up immediately after Mass and make sure this Becca got her Jesus. I cried not only from being able to be united with my Jesus but also because I had so many spiritual mothers looking out for me. There are so many Sisters who up until the last few weeks of school I wasn't very close with. But in those last few weeks, I was blessed to have what I call, good-bye moments. Whether it was a walk or a chat in a Sister's office or even a hug, I suddenly was getting closer with these Sisters before the end of my time at IU. 

     Sister Carmel and I have shared some signs of peace during Mass, we've taken a selfie, she's given me advice on proper shoes (during Lent), and most recently she was my Sister Captain in Stone Harbor (aka she headed our cleaning team). I didn't really get to know her or she get to know until we were in Stone Harbor. I'm sure she had heard or seen me being my crazy self on campus, but she didn't get to firsthand experience my sass and silliness until then. She, who always wears a somewhat serious face, laughed with me as we accidentally broke curtain rods or made beds inside out. She laughed as I pretended to be a novice with the bed cover. And she laughed when something so incredibly sassy came out of my mouth without pretense. That week, I felt like I got to know Sister Carmel a little better. And while I was grateful for those moments, I am even more so grateful for the moment we shared yesterday. I truly felt that in that moment it wasn't just a hug but rather of two souls meeting. In that moment she was witness to the amount of emotion that comes from the soul being united with the Eucharist. In that moment, I was witness to the devotion of my Sisters. Yes, truly in that moment, we were doubly blessed. 

      Usually in the car I am singing to every song on the radio and changing stations when commercials come on. When I got in the car to drive home, I didn't change the station if a commercial was on or even sing along to any song that was played. I was too wrapped up in my blessings of the day. I was thanking God the entire way home. And as I pulled into good old Croydon, driving over the creek, I looked out my window and saw the most beautiful sunset. There was no question in my mind about feeling chosen and precious by the Lord. Truly, this is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad. 

Do THIS In Memory of Me

"And when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, 

'This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.'"

- 1 Corinthians 11:24

Jesus and John, the Beloved Disciple at the Last Supper

    Last week in my Sacraments class, we began our discussion on the Sacrament of Eucharist. May 6th, 2000 at St. Thomas Aquinas Parish in Croydon, PA at 11:00 AM on a Saturday, I made my First Communion. I was wearing a beautiful white dress that I had worn a few months prior at my Uncle Charles and Aunt Maryanne's Wedding as their flower girl. I had annoying, lace, ankle socks and an obnoxious headband from which extended my veil. I couldn't wait to get the outfit off and run around in the mud with my cousins at my family party later that afternoon. However, at the moment right before Communion, I suddenly got the jitters; I was so nervous. This was the moment that would change my life forever. As I received the Eucharist on my tongue for the very first time, I instantly felt like Jesus, Himself, was hugging me so tightly to Himself that I became one with Him. Littler did I know that my Theology was kind of right. At Eucharist, Jesus' body becomes one with our body and soul. The image of hugging Jesus at Communion has always stayed with me.

     In class, we watched a video on Eucharist with a song playing in the background. Despite being such a musical learner, I have no idea what the song was or what it was about. I was captured by the video of a few actors acting as Jesus and the Apostles at the Last Supper. I was so struck by the continuous action between Jesus and John, the beloved disciple. During the video, John had his head resting on the shoulder of Jesus while Jesus went about the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. John never once lifted his head off Jesus' shoulder. I was so moved by it and then suddenly, I started laughing. 

     The weekend before, while in Minnesota, I confessed my need for napping to Sister Angela. I say to people that I am a serious napper. No one actually believes me until they see what happens when Becca doesn't get her nap. Sister Angela thought I was just kidding, but as we were sitting in the MSP airport waiting for the plane back to Chicago, I was sitting in the chair when suddenly my head dropped. Her gentle nunny hand picked up my chin and pushed my head gently to her shoulder. I snuggled there, sleeping, until they called for us to board the plane. Ironically enough, I fell asleep on the plane and the same thing happened. 

      As I watched the video in class, I couldn't help but remember the gentle simplicity of being able to sleep on another's shoulder. Even deeper than that is when one can cry on another's shoulder. Something I also spontaneously did to Sister Angela when we had to say goodbye. Poor girl. Just as Sister Angela did for me, Jesus did for John. He comforted him in the eventual separation of life and death. He comforted his tears when Jesus said his last words. It was beautiful. But what struck me the most, after all of this was the words "Do this in memory of me?" What exactly did Jesus mean? What is the "this" to which he is referring? Suddenly, my mind was spinning. I just needed to put it in words!

     First, Jesus is allowing beloved John to snuggle up to Him at a time when Jesus is already suffering His eventual arrest and death. Jesus, while feeling so sad within His own heart, is not only breaking the bread for those around Him but also letting John use His shoulder for comfort. John most likely was feeling pain and sadness, too, and so Jesus allowed John to seek comfort during His own suffering. He sacrificed His own feelings so that John could be comforted.
     Even deeper than that is what Jesus was doing at the Last Supper. He was giving up Himself for the sake of others' salvation. "Do THIS is memory of me," He says. Do THIS...the THIS meaning the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. However, in John 6, Jesus says this, "I am the BREAD of HEAVEN." He is demonstrating the breaking of the bread, the breaking of Himself and the sharing of His blood in the cup. "Do THIS," He says. On the surface He means, do this, do this breaking of the bread, in memory of me. We celebrate the Last Supper every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Deep right? Well, it goes even deeper.
     The THIS Jesus is doing is the THIS of the breaking of His body, His offering up of Himself. He asks each of us to do the THIS He does; to offer ourselves for the greater good of the Kingdom of God. He may not be asking us to be martyrs for the faith as He was, but He is asking us to sacrifice for others that which we hold most dear. Every time we hear these words, we are called by JESUS HIMSELF to do the THIS He did, in memory of Him. We are called to sacrifice for others, to give to others as He gave to the apostles, as He gave to John. True sacrifice is giving all out of love. Jesus gave up His own emotional state to comfort John and the apostles both at the Last Supper and in the Garden. Jesus gave up His own body to be broken just like the bread at the Last Supper, on Good Friday. Jesus gave up His life for us. That is the THIS in "do THIS in memory of me."
      How perfect that I came to this realization of the THIS I need to do during Lent, a time of true sacrifice of self for others. Once again, I've fallen in love with the Eucharist and all it means for me. I am continuously developing a deeper devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, a devotion that has been with me all my life (Thanks, Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament). I am always growing more and more in love with the REAL PRESENCE of Jesus in the Eucharist and all His beautiful words to me through the Mass and through Scripture. Now, every time I hear these words: "Do THIS in memory of me," I will remember truly what Jesus is asking of me. I must be the crying shoulder, I must be the comfort in the suffering, I must give of myself. Of course, I must also be grateful to those who have comforted me, who have given of themselves to help me, and who have given me a shoulder upon which I can rest and cry. There are many Jesus' to my John in the sense of literary metaphors.

My Best Friend, Katie D

"My sweetest joy is to be in the presence of Jesus in the Holy Sacrament.

I beg that when I am obliged to withdraw in body, I may leave my heart before the Holy Sacrament.

How I would miss our Lord if He were to be away from me by His presence in the Blessed Sacrament."

- Saint Katharine Drexel

      Just a few days ago, I had the realization that if we weren't blessed with a priest to say Mass for retreat, I would have the crisis of a Mass-less Sunday. Now, of course, I would try everything to get to Mass somewhere, but the problem is: this girl has no wheels. I have a mandatory meeting for my upcoming Peruvian adventure...one that I am not allowed to be late for or leave early from. This meant, I either had to find someone with wheels who wouldn't mind going to a "last chance Mass" at West Chester or I was out of luck. When I was telling one of the sisters, I actually just started crying. My tears were not sobs or forced tears. In fact, I didn't even know I was crying, until a tear dripped onto my shirt. I didn't know what to do; my heart was literally breaking at the knowledge that I could quite possibly not be able to be united with the love of my life in the Most Blessed Sacrament. So...what did I do? Well, I called on my Facebook prayer group and asked for their prayers for my special intention. BUT, I also called my best friend, and told her about my predicament knowing that she would understand exactly how I felt. Of course, she took care of it. 

      I carried the crisis (and that's what it really was...a crisis) on my heart all day. Needless to say, I fell into my very quiet, problem-solving self. All day I was constantly thinking about how I (and my fellow retreatants) could get to Mass. Eventually, I wound up with a few "worse case scenarios" but I knew they still weren't the answer to my prayers. Even after talking to someone about, I was still in a predicament-plagued, heavy-hearted mood. I definitely moozied on through my day. However, there were a few spots of sunshine in my day when I randomly saw Sister Cathy. Seeing her more times than I normally would on a Monday gave me some hope that I would get the answer to my prayers soon. I felt that her over joyous smile was Heaven's hope to my heart. 

      Soon, the time came for me to head to the Motherhouse for work and still, I had no answer. I prayed as I walked across the street, feeling the heaviness in my heart. It wasn't a heaviness of guilt that I wouldn't get to Mass, but rather a deeper pain. It's a pain almost like that of an aged couple where one is suffering from Alzheimer's and cannot remember his wife so much so that he cannot live with her. The wife desires so much to be able to at least hold his hand or kiss him again, but he refuses to be touched. The wife, while knowing she can visit her beloved cannot kiss his lips and feel the physical uniting with her husband. I would be able to visit my Beloved in the chapel, but I would not be able to taste His Goodness on my lips or unite my soul to Him in the Eucharist. My heart simply broke and gloom filled the cracks. 

      The Motherhouse was very quiet for a typical Monday night, but I guess the oh so attractive scaffolding has been scaring away visitors...well, at least to the front door. I easily fell in the quiet pace of reading the most horrendous book for class and let God take care of the rest. I happened to look up from my book at the same time the Mother General was walking into Chapel. I smiled, not thinking she saw me before she opened the door, but then she pressed her face to the stained glass door, smiled and wrapped her arm around the door the wave. Once again, she became a glimmer of hope for me. After supper, she came through the "Portress Fortress" just to "catch up" on my life and hear the good news about Peru (we just ordered our plane tickets yesterday...IT'S ON!) and everything else. She playfully mocked my inked hand (where I had written down ALL my play lines...) and my bright yellow nail polish. Of course, I think she was just jealous about the nail polish. Regardless, the few minutes I had conversing with her was actually exactly what I needed. It was just a few minutes and I began to feel hopeful. However, it wasn't until Sister San came to visit me that I knew I was going to get an answer to my prayers. 

      Imagine the tiniest sister you have ever seen with the most beautiful white hair and most gentle eyes. She came almost dancing off the elevator. Now, you must understand that sister and I share a very special bond. We have a HUGE devotion to St. Katharine Drexel and she knew the closest SBS sister, Sister Thomasita, I ever had. I found out not too long ago, that Sister Thomasita would frequent the IHM Motherhouse just to visit her. She walked the same hallways I do now. And how perfect that our paths crossed once again. Last night, when Sister San came dancing into the "Portress Fortress," she handed me a tiny, paisley jewelry box. I asked her if I should open it and she said, "Yes! Of course!" So, I gently opened the box and inside was a medallion with Saint Katharine Drexel on the front. My mouth curved into a smile and my heart felt happy. But that wasn't the end. She asked me if I had any idea of who had given her the medallion. I said no. She then told me so gently that it was my dear Sister Thomasita. Instant tears. I leaped out of my chair, wrapped my arms around her and essentially wept uncontrollable tears into her veil. A few of the other sisters walked in and out and didn't know I was crying until I sat back down behind the desk. They didn't understand, but Sister San knew exactly why it hit me so close to the heart. Sister Thomasita is the reason I have a vocation to the church. She prayed for my vocation before I was ever born. It's a long, beautiful story and one day I might tell you, but right now, all you need to know is that Katharine Drexel used Sister San to give me the reassurance I needed to know that she was taking care of my prayers. I think after Sister San left, I cried a little more and simply ran my fingers over and over the medal, thanking God. 

       When I got back to my room after making a stop at play practice, I hopped on the computer to do some homework. Of course, like every typical person of my generation, I checked Facebook first even though everything goes straight to my phone anyway. As I was scrolling through my notifications, a little message box popped up at the bottom of my screen from Sister Cathy. Her message, "We got a priest!" I through my hands up in the air and thanked God out loud. Katharine, my girl, Katie D, my best friend, my number one God girl, did it again. She pulled through and answered my prayers while at the same time reminding me that I am loved and that right now, I am exactly where I am meant to be.

      On Sunday, my Junior class celebrated Ring Day, another IU tradition, together. A dear heart friend of mine, Kristie, an alum of IU, presented me with my ring and I was so grateful. However, she went above and beyond and got me flowers also: White lilies (for St. Joseph), White Roses (for Mary) and Yellow Sunflowers (for the Sun in my life...Jesus). Unfortunately, I didn't have a vase in my room so I asked Sister Cathy if I could share the happiness with Marian Chapel, my favorite place on Campus. She said yes and today, as I placed the vase of flowers right in front of the Tabernacle, I had this strange feeling that Katie D was standing there right next to me and all I wanted to do was hug her. I know she is always with me; she is always reminding me. And I think, as Sister Ruth Catherine, SBS, once told me, she is calling me onto something higher, to walk in her footsteps in a whole new and unique way. But I'll wait for a confirmation from her, before I let you know! One thing I am certain about is that as soon as I get to Heaven, that girl and I are having coffee forever and sharing our lives with each other, even though she'll already know everything about me! She's my best friend, and best friends just know!

Visions of the Night, The Eucharist and The Moon

"In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep

falls upon men while slumbering on their beds, 

He opens the ears of men and seals their instruction." 

- Job 33: 15

      It all started with the moon. If you hadn't noticed, I'm in love with taking pictures. I love photography. When I was out on my photographic journey the other day, I accidentally stumbled upon the moon. I didn't realize how perfectly clear the crevices in the moon appeared until I zoomed all the way in. Wow! How beautiful! Since then, I've been slightly obsessed with capturing the moon from behind my lens. The above photo is one of my favorites that I captured in quite a unique way:

      We were coming home from the baptism via way of the PA Turnpike. My dad was driving a little over seventy miles per hour. I looked up into the sky and saw it: the moon. Once again, the moon had met me half way. So I yelled into the backseat to ask my sister if she could weasel my camera out of my backpack that had already been packed for school. When I got the camera, I rolled down the window, unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned out of the car window. Ok, I admit it probably wasn't the smartest or brightest idea I ever had, but look at the results. I felt the cold penetrating every open pore in my body, my nose, my eyes, my ears, my face. And my fingers were just about frozen. Finally, I crawled back inside the car only to find my dad and little sisters laughing hysterically. Ironically enough, my dad didn't reprimand me for doing something slightly stupid like hanging out of the car window, but rather he was laughing. He told me he wished he could have taken a picture of my face in the wind. He wasn't surprised at my little adventure, in fact later when I was begging him to "chase the sunset" so I could get a picture, he fed the spirit of adventure in my soul. Essentially, my dad and I share that same spirit. Regardless, I got the moon pictures and I couldn't have been happier. 

      Hours later, when I finally got the chance to lay down in my bed and fall asleep (ask my roommate about that one...), I began to dream quite vividly. While I had been busy taking moon pictures out the car window, my friend Karly asked me if there was a rule about how many times a person can receive the Eucharist in one day. I told her that Canon Law says no more than twice a day. I told her that one sister in my life told me that if I am serving the Lord at Mass and must go to more than two Masses, Jesus would rather I connect my soul to Him via the Eucharist all of those times. And I told her that one sister told me that if we truly understood what the Eucharist was, once, during our whole life time, would be enough. In my dreams, I began to gather answers from various people about the Eucharist and this Canon Law rule. Here's the final scene of my dream:

      I see Sister Marcille in the distance and I run to her. I say, "Sister..the Eucharist?" And she answers, somehow knowing exactly what I wanted to know or maybe...what I needed to hear. She draped her arm around my shoulder, pulling me close as if telling me something only I could hear or maybe....only I would understand. She pointed to the Tabernacle, then to the moon in the distance (because apparently in my dream, we have tabernacles on campus outside....) and then pointed to my heart. As she spoke, I got smaller and smaller, digressing into a younger self. "If you, Becca dear, and I, really, truly, understood what the Eucharist was. If we really understood that Jesus was there, that we were consuming His flesh and blood, once upon our tongues would be enough. All the love and fascination you have with the clarity and details of the moon, would be one hundred times more for the love of Christ. If you and I understood the Eucharist, it would be like you finally touching the moon with your bare hands. You would never have to touch the moon again, because that moment will have had overcome your heart and soul so much. But for now, since it is humanely impossible to grasp the Eucharist, we will simply take pictures of it, like you do the moon, until the day when we can finally touch Jesus. Does that answer your question?" In my tears, I shook my head yes. When my alarm went off a few moments later, I still had tears in my eyes.

       You see, Sister Marcille and I have had this conversation before. However, there was definitely NOT that much lyrical poetry and beautiful metaphors in her answer the first time. I was in awe. When I headed down the stairs to chapel for Mass, I stopped on one of the landings to examine why on earth there was a cherry picker hanging out in the courtyard. As I watched, the same sister who had been in my dream was now walking down the stairs behind me. I greeted her with a smile and she did the same. In our pre-Mass conversation, I told her she was in my dream. Without giving her much detail she said, "Beware of the dangers of the mind at sleep." I laughed, in truth our dreams do tell us so much about ourselves. I am actually a firm believer in that. However, I also do believe that God visits us in our dreams. Some would say it was because I had been taking pictures of the moon and reading poetry by Pablo Neruda right before I fell asleep. And some would say there was a reason behind Sister being in my dream and even the part about me digressing into a younger age. But really, this time, I think it's because I needed to hear/dream something so beautiful about my beloved Eucharist, something I've truly taken for granted as of late. I needed to hear words of sheer poetry, I needed to hear beauty. So thanks God. Thanks for giving me what I need, and thanks for sending me an angel in my dream! If you ever read this, Sister, thanks! Thanks for being His instrument in real life and in dreams! So, until I can finally touch the moon, I'll just keep taking pictures of it's beauty!

P.S. I think Sister Marcille might have been a "Yay" Baby when she was younger. She gets it. 

The "Yay" Babies Make a Comeback

"But Jesus said, 'Let the children alone, 

and do not hinder them from coming to me; 

for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.'"

- Matthew 19:14

     A long, long, long, long, LONG time ago, I used to be a cantor at my home Parish. One morning, a morning I particularly did not want to be up at the crack of dawn, there seemed to be a lot of babies and toddlers at the nine am Mass. Ironically enough, they were all content, happy, and smiling. Not a single one was making any noise. I was flabbergasted. Finally, I got up to sing the entrance hymn. When the song was over, all I heard from the pews was "YAY!" and clapping hands soon followed by other clapping hands. I, of course, started to laugh. After every song I sang, the babies all did this. During no other part of the Mass did those babies and toddlers make a sound! At the end of Mass, I, too, was all smiles. Next weekend, those babies and toddlers were gone. Never again did I hear the crowd of "Yay" babies. That was until this morning.

     Once again, my family actually had to drag me out of bed for the early Mass. I'm as human as any other when it comes to wanting to sleep in! Trust me, if there is a nine and an eleven option for Mass, I'm taking eleven. Anyway, so dragging my feet (and every other part of my body), I went to the nine am Mass. As I was sitting in the pew with my aunt, little sister and Dad, I began to notice how many bouncing babes were in church. Three alone were in the pew in front of me. I couldn't count how many were on the other side of church or behind me. I smiled, instantly remembering that moment of the "Yay" babies. All these babies were being so perfect and quiet, too. I was just waiting for one of them to start shouting. And right at the consecration of the Eucharist, one little, outspoken girl from the back shouted "YAY!" and started clapping her hands. Before I knew it, all the babies were watching the consecration and clapping, too. I was amazed and in utter awe. I couldn't thank God enough for that moment.

     Later today, after Mass, my family and I headed to my cousins' parish in Ardsley where my youngest Kulesza "cousin" was baptized. Ironically enough, that baptism was anything but quiet. Once again, I was surrounded by the little ones. Some were crying, some were laughing, some were playing with their toys. They were everywhere! And father's Baptism "Homily" of sorts was all about letting the little ones come to Jesus. He openly admitted that most times, when talking about the truth of Jesus' love, the little ones know it better than we ever could. How true!

    I thought about the "Yay" Babies. They knew what was up! They knew exactly was what going on at Mass and truly understood it in their hearts. If we knew, if we really knew, wouldn't we be shouting and yelling praise for our God and our Jesus, our Savior!!??!! Let's really think about this: God, Jesus, is really, literally there in that moment. All we do is sit quietly, bowing our heads, and not even giving Jesus a glance! Yet, these little ones are literally shouting and screaming and clapping and crying for Him! Now, some may say, it is not socially accepted for grown adults to be clapping and shouting during Mass. Ok, I get that. We gotta have that respect thing going. And babies are excused because they are cute....I get it. But, here's my viewpoint on it: let's try to pay attention to what these kids have to say. THIS IS WHY JESUS SAID LET THE LITTLE ONES COME TO ME; THEY UNDERSTAND HIM! And if they are shouting praise at His name and clapping their little hands, well let them. If they are leading a parade around church during a Baptism, let them! If they are laughing and giggling during the Homily, let them. They are giving the ultimate praise and worship to JESUS, my friends!!! 

     And so, since I know most of you won't embrace your inner child during Mass, try to just give it a thought during the next Mass you are at. Instead of bowing your head, look Jesus straight in the eye during consecration. Instead of keeping quiet, let out a little "Hey, Jesus, I love You." And if your pew buddy looks at you weird, just turn to them and say, "Yo, Jesus is here. Don't you think I should acknowledge His presence?" Don't shush the real little ones, and don't shush the little one inside of you. EMBRACE YOUR INNER YAY BABY! JUST DO IT! Because, the truth is, my friend, those "Yay" Babies know what is going on, they get it, probably more than we ever will. Jesus is here. Let's celebrate Him!!! YAY BABIES!

      Congrats Kara and Matt on the Baptism of your youngest little one, Keegan Joseph. Also, I just found out my Uncle Charles and Aunt Mary-Anne just had their SEVENTH (they are Catholic, can you tell?) little one: Emily! Congrats to me and all my cousins on being cousins again! HAHA! I pray they become "Yay" Babies!

I Wonder If Mary and Jesus Would Like Coffee?

"Behind every successful woman is a substantial amount of coffee."

- Stephanie Piro

     Imagine this scene: you are exhausted from your week of adventures and it's 8:55 on a Saturday morning. The only thing you want to do is go back to bed and sleep the day away. But you can't. You made a promise to be present at a Parish event. Dragging your feet down the stairs to the Church Hall, you smell your first whiff of coffee. That very moment, the moment the beauteous scent of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nose, you know it's going to be a great day!

     Today I was fortunate enough to spend my Saturday in retreat with the Ladies Auxiliary of my Parish. The moment I turned eighteen I was told I was going to be enlisted into the names of the Ladies making me their youngest member. While I'm not home for most of the meetings and such because of school, I was blessed enough to be home for the 1st Annual Ladies Spirituality Day. As I made my way into the Church Hall, I found myself "blessed among the women" and was proudly the youngest lady there (shocker!!!). The retreat reflection circled around the Eucharist (coincidentally, what my retreat reflection was last weekend) and Family Life. In the middle of our day, we were given a paper with five words on it and encouraged to write down our personal reflection. Beings that I'm both an English major and a Theology minor, I found no difficulty with this. As I was furiously writing things down, the ladies were all watching me intently until one of them told me to spill. So spill I did, and the conversation went from there. Of course, I had to keep some of the good things for the group sharing part and when the time came for that, share I did. Not thinking anything of the age difference between myself and these women, I shared just as I would if I were on a discernment retreat or on a retreat with my friends for school; honestly. When the day was over, one of the ladies stopped me to thank me for my presence and my reflections. She told me that is was one of the most refreshing experiences she has had for a while. And so, I can't go without sharing some of my reflections on here...

    One of the first quotations Father used was, "To become that which they eat and that which they drink." (St. Augustine) From there, reflection on the day took the Eucharist as the real presence. We, as Catholics, say we believe in the TRUE and REAL presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. And yet we are blocked by truly seeing that real presences because so often, we find ourselves in the obligatory state of mind at Mass and not the privileged. However, being able to go to Mass is such a privilege and when we realize that, we experience the realization of the true presence of Jesus because we are finally truly present. Jesus gives us the beautiful example of being truly present, how we should really be with one another. So often we are distracted by our cell phones or the internet (admittedly it takes me twice as long to write a blog post when I have facebook open...it's open now) or even our daily, busy lives. We are constantly worrying about where and when we have to go instead of enjoying where we currently are. We so often need to just take the time to be really present. And by being present, we are being Eucharist for others; we are carrying the message of the Eucharist...just like Mary, the Mother of God. 

      The second half of the day Father has us reflect on the Visitation. Mary did not go to HELP Elizabeth but rather just to visit and be. Good thing for that teenager there were no cell phones. Elizabeth was an older woman, and an older relative. As much as teens love their grandparents, their presence with their grandparents is almost none existent because of the phone in their pocket. Perhaps the same would have been for Mary? Mary gives us the example of how two people can be truly present with one another. She was literally carrying the message of the Eucharist, the child Jesus within her womb, and she was being Eucharist for Elizabeth. Father then encouraged us to imagine ourselves within the scene. 

      It was so easy for me to imagine myself as Mary, the young visiting the older. Right away I imagined, not two women carrying on a conversation as they might have, but at a little coffee shop on a cute street corner or even in the kitchen on an early morning. Most people don't know this, but the reason I started drinking coffee was because of the sisters. It started while I was helping with retreat for the week last summer. Every morning the sisters would come down into the kitchen (my favorite room in any house), start the coffee and then, when it was ready gather round the little table just to morning chat. Of course, no one was dressed yet; it was a morning pajama party. And so, that idea of having coffee with Mary and Elizabeth was so easily formed in my mind. I find myself so often saying to another when we want to get together: "Let's grab coffee somewhere and visit." I can find myself going to visit the sisters after Mass and drinking coffee at the morning breakfast table, or headed to visit the elderly sisters and drinking coffee, or spending the day with the Ladies Auxiliary bonding over coffee or with my friends, de-stressing and really being present with one another over ... coffee. It's so easy for me to be truly present with another person over coffee (or over a meal is someone doesn't like coffee). Father said, "When we turn our biblical figures into supernatural superheroes, we fail to see their holiness in the ordinary sense and then we fail to see our own ordinary holiness." We so often hold Mary on a pedestal, and although rightfully so, we do so while forgetting her humanness. If Mary and Elizabeth were around today, they could easily be those two pregnant family members hanging out at the cute corner coffee shop. We read in the Scripture that Elizabeth was honored by Mary's visit because she was truly present. We should be able to make others feel honored by our visit but the only way we can do that is be truly present. And we can only be truly present when we turn off our cell phones, turn off the computers, take off our watches and nurse a cup of coffee for a few hours with another person simply sharing time and life. I think having a coffee date can easily be a way to be truly present to another especially since coffee is supposed to awaken our senses anyway.

     One final thing Father mentioned was about a priest he read about who liked to smoke a cigarette and drink some scotch while reading his prayers at night. And when he told his confessor, the confessor said, that he should stop and focus more on the prayers instead of the cigarette and scotch. I laughed because whenever I'm down the shore, I take my prayer book and a mug of fresh, warm coffee to the beach to pray. I never actually thought my coffee drinking would interfere with my prayers. In fact, I always thought of it as a cute little coffee date with Jesus, the love of my life. Hmm...I wonder if He would like coffee????