New Year's Resolutions in New Orleans

"Don't you just love those long, rainy afternoons

in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - 

but a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands - 

and who knows what to do with it then?"

- Tennessee Williams, "A Streetcar Names Desire"

    As some of you may know, I recently got back from my fourth tour in New Orleans, a place that always has a HUGE piece of my heart. Going back this time, I expected to see my old friends, familiar faces and places, and experience a lot of the same things I had experienced the past three visits save for the warm weather of my new May trips. All of that happened, but so did so much more. I was blessed to have gone with some of my very best friends. I was even more blessed to make a bunch of new friends. I was blessed to be welcomed home by my NOLA family at Corpus Christi. But I was also blessed my many surprises. One of which, I still am having a hard time fathoming as reality. 

    On New Years Day, since it was an off day for the SBP crew, our IU work crew headed into the French Quarter for the day. We started out with Mass at the Cathedral which was beautiful. As I was sitting there, waiting for Mass to begin, three sisters walked in. Jokingly, my friends look down the pew and go, "Hey Becca, Nuns." Thanks, guys. But in all reality, my nunsenses had been going off and I already saw them. One of my friends, who had just pointed out the obvious, then asked, "What community are they?" "Daughters of Charity," I answered without skipping a beat. They laughed in disbelief but I just knew they were the DCs. So, after Mass, I went up to the three sisters, one of whom looked oddly familiar to me. I asked them what community they were and when they said, "Daughters of Charity," I childishly turned around and stuck out my tongue. I was right.

     Sister Ellen began asking me questions like where I was from, who I was, what was I doing in New Orleans during my Winter Break, etc. As I was answering her questions, the sister on my right, Sister Salvatrice, listened diligently. Finally she asked if I was Becca Gutherman and if I had gone to a FOCUS conference three years ago in Baltimore. Blown away, I answered yes, not knowing what was going to come next. She then told me that I had had a conversation with her about discernment at the conference, after which, she wrote my name down on a piece of paper and stuck it in her office book. She had been praying for me every day since the day I met her. With tears in my eyes, I hugged her and thanked her. Sister Ellen then took our picture and I made her promise to send it to me when she got the chance. I got the picture this morning!

      As soon as I walked out of the Cathedral, I called my go-to processor, you know, the one who helps me process all things nun-related that are gifts from God, Kristie. I told her the story and she reminded me that the day I was coming home was St. Elizabeth Ann Seton's feast day, the saint who founded the sisters here in the USA. Wow. Just wow. After ending the call, I began to truly reflect on what had just happened to me. 

     The priest at Mass had said that instead of making New Year's Resolutions, we should make New Year's petitions. I really loved what he said so much that I started taking notes on an empty church offering envelope. He said that resolutions are often broken, but petitions are something we do because we are broken. He said that resolutions are people centered and that petitions are God-centered. He urged us to make New Year's Petitions instead of Resolutions. So, I did. I started with petitioning for my family, my friends and my nunnies. Then I asked for one specific petition: confirmations of my vocation. Well, God, as the funny guy He is, assured me that He would continue to answer this petition by giving me the gift of the Daughters of Charity, in particular, Sister Salvatrice. I am astonished by how many people tell me they are praying for me. I am sure that many I do not know are praying for me. But what amazed me so greatly was that meeting Sister Salvatrice was a blur in my memory. Yet, she remembered me. She remembers me every day in prayer and has, by name, since the day I met her. It still gives me the goosebumps.

     My first trip to New Orleans back in May 2011, a few months after I had met Sister Salvatrice, I was sitting in the French Market with my friends on a Saturday afternoon. As we were all taking bites of Gator, two Sisters walked down the center of the market. I happened to turn at the right moment and one of the sisters caught my glance. Without saying anything, she started her way to our table of IU friends. She put a hand on my shoulder and began a casual conversation with us. As she was leaving, she patted my shoulder and said, "I'll be praying for you, sunshine. You'll make the right choice." At that time, I was in a serious doubt of my vocation to religious life. But at that moment, God sent me another sign, another confirmation that I am truly called to this life. I never heard from or saw those sisters again, but I think about them often. 

      It blows my mind how God had started my journeys to New Orleans with the sisters down there confirming my vocation and then ending them with the same. It didn't hit me until Friday night, when I was out talking with Miss Monique and her mom that it would be my last trip to New Orleans as an IU Undergraduate. It made my heart smile from all the good that I have experienced here but also so sad to be leaving a place I love so much. I know I'll be back but in that moment it felt as if I would be leaving for good. That's when I made another New Year's petition: Dear God, please bring me back to these people who I love so much and protect them until I can return. He may not answer it this week, this month or maybe even this year, but I know one day, I'll be back in the city I love so much with the people I love so much! I cant thank God enough for all the miracles He gave me this past week. He is such a charmer!

My NOLA reflection song

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.

A New Orleans New Year's Eve Resolution

"I'll be your sun, I'll shine on you. I'll make you happy, I'll smile to you." - Nouf Alfadl

This is the first New Year's Eve I am away from home. I have always rung in the new year with close family and friends in either Pennsylvania or our neighboring New Jersey. I have always heard my daddy's voice at midnight! This year is different; I'm not only in a different state but also time zone! I'm in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Staying up til midnight here is equivalent to staying up til one am at home! Needless to say I was exhausted come midnight. However watching the fireworks surrounded with my IU peers was nothing short of beautiful! I am so used to sharing hugs and kisses and phone calls at midnight but instead here we decorated our IU work crew shirts and watched out our windows over the seventh ward! We shared hugs but it was interesting for all of us!! As I watched I noticed how quiet it got! All of us momentarily fell into some sort of reflection mode. Well at least I know I did and here's why:
I always get nostalgic on New Year's Eve! I think about the past and the future! I smile and get scared, too. I always cry without a doubt on New Year's Eve. It's a thing I guess. But as I watched the fireworks, I couldn't help but think of two people: my grandmother Bea and the Air Force gentlemen we met in the French Quarter!
The Air Force man was just casually getting sno-balls with his family when we walked up next to him! Of course, because I am my fathers daughter, I started talking to him! We talked about everything from him growing up in NOLA to sno-ball flavored to the new year to him being in the Air Force! Suddenly I found myself thanking him for serving our country because I am a patriot through and through! But before I knew it, he was buying our sno-balls as a thank you for our service to his beloved city even after so many years after Hurricane Katrina! I almost cried.
My grandmother, Bea, who I describe as a fiesty Irish woman, was with me from the very beginning of this trip but especially at Mass last night! You see the reading was essentially the Irish Blessing! May The Lord shine his face on you always! I love that so much and I couldn't help but believe Bea's face was shining on me in this beautiful city! I also couldn't help but imagine her being here with me doing the same thing right next to me! Maybe she would have...maybe not! All I know is that I share Bea's spirit as so many have told me! They tell me I am just as likely to get arrested for the same reasons she did...I'll leave that to your imagination! But I know Bea would love this city as much as I do!!
As I thought of Bea and Mr. Air Force, my New Years resolution was confirmed! My goal for the year is to go out of my comfort zone and take more positive risks!! Bea and Mr. Air Force emulate both of those things!!! I couldn't have felt more blessed as I did at midnight last night during my reflection under the fireworks!! You see, I am all about spreading the love and in order to spread the love, I have to exit the comfort zone!! And in spreading the love I know I may be so vulnerable because the heart is human and because it is human it is fragile! But like father said at mass last night, the adventure of life is faith! Both Bea and Mr. Air Force emulated that as well!
And so for me this new year, I'll be allowing myself to be vulnerable upon exiting the comfort zone and loving! I know I am in for a huge adventure because of my faith! My The Lord bless you and keep you, my friends! Cheers to 2013!!!

Just Call Me Sister Stud - My Week In New Orleans Take Two

"You got a gypsy soul to blame and you were born for living."

- Zac Brown Band, Colder Weather

     You can just call me Sister Stud (no, not muffin) from now on. WHAT?! Ok, for those of you who have ever worked in construction, you already know what a Sister Stud is. For those of you (most of you) who have not, a Sister Stud is this...ok, wait...first I should tell you what a Stud is: A stud is a piece of wood, used to frame a house or any other type of building. A Sister Stud is another piece of wood, nailed or screwed, to the original stud to help reinforce the original. I learned about Sister Studs on my last day at our worksite in New Orleans while putting up dry wall (least favorite job ever..) on the ceiling. At first I thought Alex, our supervisor, was just cracking a joke at our CATHOLIC school group when he said Sister Stud...and then after us laughing at him, he said, "Seriously, that's what it's called." And then I realized the beautiful allegory (if you've been following me long enough, you've realized by now that EVERYTHING is an allegory) of the Sister Stud. 

     Ok so a Sister Stud reinforces any already established Stud. All this time I've been Sister Studding walls like it was no big deal. The studs that we had been Sister Studding were, as you can imagine, water logged from all the water damage from Hurricane Katrina. While a bit damaged, they were still standing; they just needed some help. After I had thought this all out on our last work day I realized that I, Becca Gutherman, am a Sister Stud and the people of New Orleans are the original Studs. These original studs have been a little bit damaged by the hurricane waters and just need a little help from some Sister Studs. And so, there I was putting in literal Sister Studs all the while being a figurative Sister Stud, myself. 

     So why New Orleans (which will now be shortened to NOLA)? Well, why not? One of my favorite songs from the Zac Brown Band is Colder Weather (as quoted above) for that very line  of possessing a gypsy soul. From our multitude of fairy tales and history lessons we know that the gypsies are a nomadic people, always on the move and so am I. From a very young age, I've always wanted to do missionary work. Whether it's rebuilding houses or villages, or running orphanages in foreign countries or teaching adults in a classroom or even just performing music for heavy souls, I've always, always wanted to travel the world to help people. At first my idea was to get right on a plane and fly to Uganda, Africa, a place that's still on my bucket list. However, that opportunity never arose. So, I decided to start small and headed to NOLA in May 2011 with a small group from Campus Ministry. This May, I couldn't help my eagerness in volunteering again. 

     NOLA has a place in my heart that I can't really describe with words. When I think of what I love most about NOLA it's the spirit of the people. Regardless of whether you are helping them specifically or just someone from their huge city, they are grateful. They sit on their front porches and wave to you, smile at you and if you're walking down the street, they might come over to you and give you a great big hug. When you go to Mass with them, they will take your hand during the Our Father and hold it straight through to the Sign of Peace where they will proceed to hug you and say, "Peace be with you, babygirl/sugar/sweetheart/etc." When you're on your break from stuffing insulation or dry walling or painting, and stop to talk to the people walking down the street, they will ask your name (because names are so important), hug you, thank you over and over and over, hug you again, and go on their merry way. When you hold their hand as you listen to their story at the Homeless Mission, they will smile so big when you call them sweetheart, and you know you've made their day, week or even month. When you ask them to dance with you instead of packing boxes of food at the Food Bank, they will turn off the conveyor belt and join you for a few minutes before suggesting you get back to work. When you're walking down the streets of NOLA, in the French Quarter, in Gentilly, in the 7th Ward, in the 9th Ward, by Lake Pontchartrain, by the Wetlands, by the Mississippi River and the levee, the people of NOLA will show you their love, their appreciation but most importantly, their hope. These people of NOLA are my type of people, a people I could easily blend with because I am so alike them in my smiles, my waves and my hope. These people are a people I would live with for years and years if I could. 

       The moment I stepped off the plane in the airport, I felt at home. That feeling of home continued all throughout the week we insulated bathrooms, attics and ceilings, dry walled ceilings and walls, painted a house's exterior for days, fed the homeless at the homeless mission and organized food at the Food Bank. Everything we did last week, felt so right, so perfect, so me. And the fact that my Daddy was right there with me supporting me and getting right into the dirty work right next to me, made my week. We did so much work last week as a group and I know I can easily speak for everyone, when I say it was a week of summer well spent. It felt like I was home again, like I had a purpose in changing the world, like I was finally doing what I am meant to do with my life!!!

       Before I end this blog post, I must share with you one of many moments that brought me to tears this week. Among those moments were seeing the HUGE about of homeless men and women still present in NOLA, having TJ propose to me twice, having my dad reflect time and time again on his experience in NOLA, having him change all the "loves" in "Perhaps Love" to "Jesus" (do it, I promise you, you will cry), welcoming home Miss Courtenay to her home. While all of these will leave a lasting impression on my heart, one of the most rewarding experiences was driving by Miss Ora Joseph's house, a house I worked on last May. The house was literally just a frame when we started. We put down floor boards our first day and then bricked the whole exterior. However, there was still a ton of work left to do when we left that week. Driving by her FINISHED house literally brought tears to my eyes. I can't even explain how amazing it felt to see a front porch, and two cars in her driveway. Literally, I felt so blessed. Now, while I didn't get to see Miss Ora, I knew that she must have been so happy in her new and finished home after waiting seven years. I couldn't thank God enough!

        My week in NOLA is another week I will never forget. I am so blessed to be given a missionary heart and a gypsy soul. And I am more than blessed to have met and been remembered by the people of NOLA. I am blessed to feel so at home in a city full of studs. And I am so blessed to have become a Sister Stud!! I can honestly say, I see myself going back time and time again...maybe even for a longer period of time!!

       Thanks for all your prayers during my week there and please, please continue to pray for those who are still suffering from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and those who are volunteering. 

Les Belles Femmes Francaises I met at Preservation Hall

The Back End of the St. Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter

The view of downtown New Orleans from the Algiers Ferry

 

The Sun/Son coming in the Stained Glass windows of Chapel.

The St. Louis Cathedral

Fluerish: 'nuff said.

Can't wait to do the Nuns' Build ;)

Daddy and Me with Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos

Daddy and Me at Lake Pontchartrain

Just me in my natural domain: the kitchen

Thank God for the Wawa boy who made us coffee every morning :)

The Wawa boy, also known as one of my best friends, MIKE, insulating the attic with me post-battle wound

Daddy and Me on the  Ferry; we're so cute

I got the Praline Pot leftovers at the cooking class!

The French Market in the French Quarter where I met the most inspirational poet

The inside of the St. Louis Cathedral where we attended Mass on Saturday night.