The Long Awaited God Wink

"Everyday we find something new,

well this day I found you. 

I found love and joy all in one. 

You sent me back to where I once was.

There just ain't nothing else that compares."

- Trevor Hall, "You Find Me."

It has been over a month since I've written, and while some bloggers might apologize to their followers, I have to apologize to myself. Writing is often a form of prayer, a form of thanksgiving for blessings received, and I haven't stopped for a month to write. Of course, I know how long it's been since I've written because technology tells me. But what technology can't tell me is how long it's been since I've gone to daily Mass with the Sisters or how long it's been since I've prayed Morning Prayer with them. All I know is that my heart says it's been too long. 

    I told my students the Friday before I left that I had been waiting months to leave for Peru. In fact, my count down app told me that it was 74 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes the day I bought my ticket. It was so close but it wasn't close enough. However, to be completely honest, my job had me so busy that I really didn't have time to count down day by day. Occasionally, I would check the app and get giddy at the shortened length of time I had to wait. I got more and more excited as the days passed. Suddenly, it was the last day I needed to wait. I found myself telling story after story to my students. I found myself counting down the hours before I could leave the parking lot. I finished packing when I got home and started my adventure by going to the Mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe in Spanish. There was no better way to begin. 

    As I walked through the security at the airport after having checked my bags, reality began to hit me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane destined for my favorite country in the world in which lived a plethora of my favorite people. I sat in the airport waiting and waiting. I was surrounded by people who were waiting. All of us were waiting for something: to go home, to see loved ones, for a plane to arrive, for lunch to be served, for a business deal to be made, for a phone call, for a birthday wish. Waiting is always something that permeates airports and it was definitely permeating my heart. However, while I thought I was waiting for the plane to arrive to take me to Peru, there was a different waiting hiding in the deep crevices of my heart. 

      There is so much that happened on my adventure to Peru. I offered so many hours of service to various schools, I spent time with my dear Sisters, I met the families of some of the Sisters at the Christmas Gathering, I went shopping with a new friend, I attended the graduation of my CSA Students, I took a bus and got a little lost in a city I have loved for so long, I convent-hopped like a champ, I did so much more. But I also had many conversations with my Sisters, I joined them for daily Mass, I joined them for prayers, I walked arm in arm with them, I walked hand in hand with them, I held their hands during the Padre Nuestra, I celebrated life with them and I discerned with them. I served right next to them. I was a part of their love, their service, their lives. I was home. 

     Life has taken a road of different scenery in these past months. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful scenery, something familiar, yet untouched for so many years. Yes, I've ventured out and experienced a lot of things different than what I have been used to. Yes, it's been worth the journey. But there always has seemed like there was something missing. The literal scenery changed when I got to Peru, but suddenly, I was back with my Sisters. I had been away from them for so long and finally, I was back, I was home. There was nothing more than that that I needed. Even if days were short and I did nothing more than go to Mass, pray, eat lunch with them, that was all I needed. My heart had been waiting the simplicity of their lives. 

     While so much had happened on my trip, there are two experiences that will always remain with me. Number one: my Montenegro adventure. There really are not enough words to describe the love that permeates the streets there. I got on an unfamiliar bus, rode to a place I had only visited twice, and walked the streets as if I had lived there for years. When my feet hit the dirt roads, there was something so overtly wonderful about the place. I looked to the hills and felt love. Sister George told me to go find my heart, the heart which I had left in Peru. I find it, Sister. I found it once again. But unfortunately, I left it there again. Between the bilingual conversations, my appreciation for the silence in my heart, and seeing the beautiful children at the posada, I couldn't have been happier. But I think the happiness was also present in the small convent community room while enjoying popcorn and homemade hot chocolate while watching CNN with the Sisters. It was present in the extra blanket left on my bed because it got chilly. It was present in the little chapel on the second floor with a beautiful view of a lit village on the hill. It was present in the front rose garden with it's freshly cut grass. It was present in the causa for lunch. I was happy there. My heart was so happy. 

      When I left Montenegro, there was a sadness in my heart. I was very quiet on the way back to Miraflores (and no, not just because Spanish was the main language in the care that day). I watched the hills fade behind me. I was still so filled with happiness, not just from my visit there, but from my time spent in all of Peru with so many of my Sisters. Before I knew it, I found myself in a little chapel I had never visited before - the one at Villa Maria, Miraflores. Sister Liz, my dear friend, ushered me to the chapel, just as she had many times before. I sat in the Chapel and within seconds, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. All my fears, my happiness, my doubts, my worries, my signs and confirmations came swelling out of my heart at once. I spoke right to Jesus...and even though it's been a while, He still listened. Suddenly, Sister Liz was back and with a gentle arm around my shoulders, she held me close like the big sister she is. She took me to the tabernacle, but my hands on the door, put hers on top of mine and prayed as so many of the others had - for my discernment. Of course, I didn't stop crying. 

       We went from there to Mass in the church down the street. I was sandwiched between two of my Sisters who graciously held my hands during the Padre Nuestra. I was exactly where I was meant to be because it was there that I had realized what I had been waiting for: God's confirmation. I hadn't prayed with my Sisters in such a long time...I was back where I was meant to be. It was the most perfect place to be. I had felt a change in heart, a change in scenery, back to the familiar and the amazing.

      I still had two nights in Peru at that point and those next two nights were the perfect nights. They involved pj parties with the nuns over two great movies, more prayer, more discernment in the day to day life. It was a busy time for me to visit because it was Christmas and the closing of the school year. At the airport before I left, one of the Sisters said she was sorry she couldn't have spent more time with me because it was such a busy time. I had no idea what she was talking about. I came not asking to be entertained, but to serve where God needed me to serve and to share the life of my Sisters for the week. What I needed was a week of prayer with my Sisters. What my heart had been waiting for was those simple moments of small conversations, daily hugs and kisses, the knowledge of permeating love. There was nothing more that I could have asked for. Those small moments with each of my Sisters were what my heart needed - a reminder of what I have been called to do. 

    I didn't cry when I said my good-byes, I cried when I woke up and saw the most beautiful sunrise from the window seat 25F. I cried then because I realized how much love I had just left behind. I had left my heart in Peru again. In fact, I think it has a permanent spot there with my Sisters. I cried because of how much God had spoke to my little heart in such little time. It was simply amazing how wonderfully blessed I felt. The reverse culture shock, that is, the shock of not having five beautiful women of God right next door or down the hallway, was the hardest adjustment. Even now, I am suffering from the reality that they are not with me. Yet, I know they are always in my heart. I love them each so much, more than can ever imagine, and I am grateful for the prayerful week they gave me. 

      In all my waiting, I felt a small solidarity with Mary and Joseph who had awaited the birth of their Son for so long. However, the difference was that they were blessed with the birth of a baby. Me on the other hand, experienced a re-birth of God in my soul, happiness in my heart and knowledge of the future. I could not thank my Sisters enough for being the pathway through which God reach me. It was a long awaited God wink and it only took me 9 days in a country, almost 4000 miles away, for me to realize that not only had God always been there, but that I needed a re-birth. And now, to live for Jesus with this renewed spirit of mine. 

     To all of my Sisters in Peru, thank you for the gift of your hugs, kisses, time and words. I could not possibly thank you enough for all the love you showed me this past week. It was a perfect discernment week in a perfect place with some perfect people. I love you each so much, and yes, I already miss you. Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano Nuevo. 

Desert Silence

"Praying - a silence in which
another voice may speak."
- Mary Oliver, "Thirst"

     As soon as I saw the mountains in the backyard of Villa Maria, La Planicie, I knew immediately that I wanted to climb them. I saw them as I see the ocean, something in which I can be alone and at peace. Just as I so often find the grandeur of God in the ocean, I felt the immense glory of God calling me to the tops of those mountains. I didn't look at them as most hikers or backpackers would, as something to be conquered, but rather, I saw them as something that I knew would conquer me.

    Our first taste of the mountains was when Sister Annette took us on a tour of the "backyard." We didn't go very far, but despite the small distance into the mountains we went, it was breathtaking. We didn't go very high, but the group of us stood on a path that seemed carved out only by God. Sister was telling us about a time she had gone up the mountains and sat incredibly still while she was on retreat some time ago. After her story, she made us stand there in silence. It was deafening. There were no birds chirping, no sounds of cars or people, no breeze to rustle even the dirt paths. There was absolutely no noise. Then, of course, someone laughed because we are not a silent people. And no, I do not mean our particular group, I mean modern day people. 

     This morning, I was sitting in Mass at St. Charles in Bensalem with my little sister. It what used to be a "cry room" for mothers with babies on Sundays, has been transformed into a side Chapel. There is a glass wall and two glass doors separating the room from the big church. Because there isn't too much room in the side Chapel, many people, including my sister and I, sit in the church and listen to Mass. Lizzie and I sit close to the glass wall, however, just so she can see what is going on. Usually, there is a microphone for the priest and the reader to use so that the people in the Church can listen, but today there was no microphone. Suddenly, the people in the Church started to state the obvious: the microphones are not on, etc. They began to move and hustle around making it so that one could not hear at all. However, when all was quiet again, despite there not being any microphones, if one listened really intently, he or she could hear what was going on. I found myself listening, focusing on every word that was said, and quieting my own mind. I found myself being silent. After Mass, as I reflected on this phenomena, I thought, once again of the desert. 

      On one particular afternoon, two of my friends from our trip and myself decided to go climb the mountain. We didn't set out to climb to a specific height or go to a specific peak, we just wanted to go, and so we went to the first place Sister Annette took us. We climbed and climbed and climbed. I felt the top of that particular mountain calling me forth; I needed to go there. It was rough, my lungs ached, my feet hurt and I had no idea how I was going to get down. I was sweating and since most of the mountain is made of dirt, my skin was soon being caked in dirt. Yet, I knew I had to get there. I kept climbing until finally, I reached the top with Nicole. Then, immediately I felt tears build up in my eyes. 

      I looked around the top of the mountain for a section to sit down. Where I sat is where I took the above picture. Yes, I sat down on a rock that essentially allowed me to dangle my feet over a very steep edge. Then, I sat there. I closed my eyes and I let the silence flow over me. Again, there were no birds, no animals, no wind, nothing. We were so high up that you could see the city of La Molina but you couldn't hear a single sound. My thoughts were deafening. Being up there, I began to pray. I had almost every fear and ambition on my mind but suddenly, I was being quieted. All my thoughts began to cease and I felt the true presence of God with me. 

      Yesterday, I went to visit my dear (dare I say it?!) alma mater and my Sisters there. While most of the conversation was in good favor and lots of sharing of my recent adventure to Peru, there was some very serious conversation, too. I hadn't planned to see Sister Annette yesterday, but as I waited in the convent dining room for Sister Elaine, she popped out of the kitchen and asked me to stop over in her office when I got back. She wanted to see my pictures, of course. And so, after lunch with Sister Elaine, I walked over to her office and let her browse through my pictures. I could see how much each picture brought back to her mind the memories of not only our two weeks there, but also of all the years she was missioned there. And as I watched her, I felt so much emotion flow through my heart. Joy at the sight of all the smiles and almost tears at the sight of all the people I love so dearly there. After she finished with the pictures, she turned to me and we had a chat. 

      She told me that I was quieter than usual and it seemed that I was perplexed by something. While yes, there was a lot on my mind concerning big and little moments of future life, my quiet persona of the day was actually the real Becca, I told her. Many people do not see pensive, reflective, quiet Becca, but she's there deep inside. I've always been a "watcher," one who takes in everything and then later, I explode about it. I see things for what they are in their stillness and reality. She asked how I was and I responded by saying, "I just am." I was sitting in her office as I was sitting on the desert mountain, in silence with thoughts slowly going through my mind until there were none left. I admit that there was a point in our conversation where I felt tears build up in my throat, but really I was at peace with just "being." I had no where to go and all day to do it. 

     She reminded me yesterday that I need to continuously be open to the Spirit; I need to listen to Him. That traveled with me as I remembered the mountains and the silence I experienced there. This morning when I was trying really hard to focus on listening at Mass, I also remembered her words. You see, I cannot truly listen if there is noise. Just as I couldn't hear what was going at Mass while the people were making a fuss, I cannot hear God if my mind is flood with thoughts and actions. I cannot listen to God if I am constantly on the run. He calls me from the desert mountaintops to come and sit and just be with Him. He calls me into the desert, not only the real desert like in Peru, but the figurative desert. It is there where I may feel tired, achy and sweaty of all that life has given me. But if I allow myself the time to sit and be with Him, He will silence me and there I will hear His voice. Because just as in a conversation, when I am quiet, I allow the other person to speak. In the desert, God does all the speaking. But it comes in the form of silence. I simply have to listen to what the silence does to my soul. 

Enjoy a bit of silence today, on me. 

Aventura Peruana - Vivir La Vida

"Yours are the eyes through which to look 

out Christ's compassion on the world. 

Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good.

Yours are the hands with which He is to bless all now."

- St. Teresa of Avila

   Well here I am, a few days after my return back to the United States, and I still can't shake the brokenheartedness of having to leave behind so many people I love. For the past three days, I've woken up and expected to look out my window at the children of Villa Maria, La Planicie going to school. I wake up expecting that my being home in the US is actually a dream. Now don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my country of the red, white and blue, and I most certainly love my hometown of little old Croydon, but two weeks most certainly was not a long enough time in Peru. Heck, even a month last year wasn't enough. I'm not quite sure what it is about that country, but I have a love for it like no other. But I'm not going to complain about being in the wrong country anymore. Instead, I'll share with you, my experience. 

   For the past few months, the Sisters have been asking me if I was counting down. I said yes, but not to what they had been suggesting. Of course, being it my Senior year, they wanted to know if I was counting down to graduation. OF COURSE NOT, I would exclaim, because truly the very thought or suggestion of having to leave the noble hill was cause for a small, but rather intense emotional breakdown which included lots of sobs and snotty tissues. Okay, maybe not that drastic, but you get the point. However, I would continue, I am counting down to May 21. Many wondered why that date and not graduation, but, of course, they understood my desire for not wanting to leave the great EEEE-MOCK-UUUU-LAAAA-TAAA. So when I finally explained that May 21 would be the date of my departure to Peru, the understanding came with a sigh and a, "oh, of course, your home." How did they ever know?! 

    The day of graduation came and as you know, there was so much beauty from God in that weekend. However, as soon as the ceremony was over, I could not help but count down the days til we left for Peru. At that point it was three days. The excitement was building and so was the anxiety of packing. If it wasn't for Theresa texting me every half hour on Monday worrying about packing, I wouldn't have packed until Tuesday night. But thank God for friends. By Monday night, I was ready, emotionally, physically and mentally, to get on a plane and go home. But alas, God was working on my patience and so, I waited. 

     Wednesday morning, I headed to morning Mass at St. K's at 6:30. As I was kneeling there, praying my little heart out, as Sister "Mom" Regina would say, I happened to look up to see a familiar IHM veil. All throughout Mass, however, I could not for the life of me, figure out which nun was in front of me. So after Mass, I happened to bump into S. Anne Mark, IHM. I asked her if she knew the lady in blue and alas, she did not. So we did what any two curious characters would do and went to say hello. Suddenly, I knew exactly who she was: S. Agnes from none other than PERU. I asked her when she was going home and when she said, "in a few hours" I could hardly contain my excitement. How ironic that the two of us would be traveling to Peru on the same day?!

     Within the next few hours, I was dropping Lizzie off at school and getting my traveling blessing from Sisters Jeanne and Catherine Danielle. Before I knew it, we were at the airport, anxiously awaiting the arrival of all the members in our group before we headed off. After many hours of pre-travel pictures and finally traveling, we landed in Callou, Peru, at about 11:30 their time. The night drive from the airport to our home for the next two weeks seemed like a dream. I was having a hard time believing that I was back in the country I had fallen in love with exactly a year ago to date. Yet, there I was, staring out the window at some of the most beautiful sights in the world...well, at least, to me. The strong smell of diesel exhaust was welcoming and the "almost dying by car accident" heart palpitations were exactly what I had been missing for the past year. Oh those sights, sounds (insert Oxford comma here) and smells were a joyous serenade of "Welcome Home." That night, I fell asleep feeling like the happiest girl alive.

     The next day we had our full tour of Villa Maria, La Planicie. Of course, before that I went to Mass with the Sisters and half of the Confirmation class. After Mass, I not only bumped into my dear Sister Marie who was there for a visit but we also went to the May Procession for the escuelita school. If only I could put into words how stinkin' precious those little ones were with their flowers for Mary, their rosaries and their smiles of pure joy. During our day we met the faculty of VM and also got our "assignments" for the next few days. Originally we had all planned to be helping out in the escualita (literally "the little school" for the poorer children. Here the students receive breakfast and lunch as part of their school. Many are children of the people who work in the richer homes in the area as maids, cooks and landscaping aids.), however, four of us soon found out that we would be giving faith witness talks to the Confirmation class (Juniors in High School). 

    Speaking in front of a group of people, especially students, never ever once phased me. In fact, it has always been like second nature. I never get nervous to the same extent I do when I'm performing. Nope. Never. But as Sister Cathy says, it's okay to have butterflies, so long as they are all in the right row. And so, I couldn't have been happier than when I was standing in front of all those beautiful, young, impressionable faces as I shared my faith story. I decided to go along with how one must be a Best Friend with God (that's a WHOLE other blog post) and immediately, I saw how the students were amazed that one could actually be best friends, let alone friends, with God. Once again, I was confirmed in my vocation to be a teacher. All my life I have wanted to teach, to blow students' minds with the awesomeness of God. Giving my faith witness allowed me to do just that. 

    For the first day, we thought we would only be talking to the fourth year class. However, during our time, we wound up speaking to 16 classes of young women in both the Villa Maria school and Colegio San Antonio. Believe it or not, that's a lot of young women. And not only did Theresa and I speak to all those classes, but they also asked the two of us to speak about our relationship with Mary, BVM, at the Villa Maria May Procession. Every day, through our talks, through my own and the others', I was spiritually fulfilled. Sharing faith with each other is so incredibly important and I have always been so reaffirmed. Talk about real life missionary work.

     Faith sharing while probably took up the most time during our mission, was not the only thing we did while in Peru. One very special place we visited was Dr. Tony's. We went our first Saturday morning in Peru, before the big Kermesse (carnival-type celebration) at Villa Maria. After about an hour drive in the very small fifteen passenger van, we arrived at the home for children. This was not an orphanage, but rather a home for children who have had various surgeries. These children come from the poor mountain regions and Dr. Tony, a doctor from the United States, oversees their surgeries which include but are not limited to cleft palate, leg surgeries, cerebral palsy therapy and surgeries to help burn victims. Although the doctor was not in for the day, we saw the entire facility and were able to spend a few hours with the children. While I enjoyed being out on the patio watching the boys with crutches play soccer as if they had no disability, my favorite part was visiting the nursery. Some have said that I speak baby-I understand those who cannot speak better than those who can. One little girl in particular was suffering from cerebral palsy and could not really move her muscles. A few of the girls went over to her crib to say hello, but when they walked away, she started crying. So I went over and gently rubbed her little arms and legs. Immediately, she looked up at me with her beautiful, big, brown eyes and stopped crying. I spoke to her softly but as I was walking away, she began to cry again. So, I went back to rubbing her little arms and legs again for about ten minutes. She was so content, that when I left again, she was okay. 

     Another favorite moment was when I caught Sister Annette enjoying a few minutes with a little boy on the couch. He had pulled her packet of kleenex from her purse and then proceeded to pull them all out of the packet. I was laughing so hard that she invited me over to sit with him. She eventually got up, but left us with the tissues. I wasn't sure what to do with them, so we started counting. Then he ripped one in half and thought it was hilarious, so, of course, I did, too. Eventually, he got bored with me and ran off to play with his tissues alone. Looking back, however, I realize the simplicity of the moment - like a bored little kid in church, entertained by a pack of tissues. Who would have thought?

      Saturday and Sunday were filled with exciting Kermesses and Bingos at Villa Maria and Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro. Both of these days, it seemed to be a nun convention. I was so eternally grateful for these days because not only was I able to see the other four Immaculata girls who had arrived a week prior at EIC, but also all my beautiful nun friends. I could not have cared less about what was going on around me because there were too many Sisters with whom I needed to catch up. And catch up I did, especially with my EIC girls. Of course, I also met a few new Sisters, like Sister Anne. My initiation into her friendship came in twofold. First, on Saturday, she told me that her relative sister, who had been a teacher in my high school, had told her all about her. I told her the reverse was the same. For three years we had known about each other, but we had finally just met. The second part of the initiation came when at the BINGO in Montenegro, she asked me to accompany her to the market down the street. You see, we were in need of some hotdog skewers. So, we left the confines of the school and began our journey to the open market on the streets of Montenegro. Honestly, I couldn't have been happier. Not only did we chat a bit, but I also got to experience real life in Montenegro; a life I've been wanting (since experiencing it last year) to experience much longer than a day or two. That moment will forever be etched in my mind as one of the most memorable of my trip this time around. 

        The following week was filled with many faith witness talks, a visit to my "old stomping grounds" at Colegio San Antonio (which meant a HUGE reunion with my students, mis hermanitas, from last year and LOTS OF TEARS at our bittersweet parting), and a journey to Our Lady of Joy and Francisco Coll in Ate Vitarte. Our Lady of Joy is a home for adults who have a physical disability. It is absolutely beautiful, with physical therapy options and get this, handicap accessible bathrooms and rooms. Trust me when I say that this is a rarity in Peru. This place not only allows these beautiful people a chance to live life to the fullest despite their physical disability, but it also allows them the means to eventually be independent, that is, not dependent on their families. Many of these people were forced to believe that their physical disability was a curse from God, but now, as some told us, they can see the beauty of it. Our time spent there was beautiful. 

     At Francisco Coll the first day, we met Maria who showed us what she wanted us to do for the next day. It involved lots of paint and a pretty big wall. The next day we found ourselves sizing up a wall for a mural. Within a matter of minutes, I was covered in paint (shocking, I know). My job for the rest of the day was the mix the paint as Benito showed me. Good thing I remembered all those things about the color wheel from Kindergarten. Shout out to Miss O'Neil for teaching me all she knew about colors. We covered the wall in an array of handprints as butterflies, flowers and even tree leaves. The best part about this day was watching both Sister Annette and Sister Mary literally get their hands dirty as we painted their hands so that they could put their handprints on the walls. The mural turned out wickedly beautiful. 

     Our next weekend was spent well...doing touristy type stuff like shopping, walking through LarcoMar for ice cream, going to Mass, visiting central Lima, etc. My favorite part of the weekend, well there's two: first, it was seeing three of my lovely ladies in blue in the market from a mile away and then running at them to give them hugs. I had thought the last time I was going to see them was the previous Monday. Well, God had something else in store. My second favorite moment: getting to go back to Santa Rosa, my favorite church spot in all of Lima (and I've been to quite a few). I love St. Rose's story, even if it contained a hermitage smaller than my playhouse Barbie house, or trying her hair to keep herself awake. She was a beautiful woman of God. 

      Our final two days in Peru were spent in my favorite places: Montenegro and EIC. Montenegro is my favorite school for one simple reason: the simple joy emulated by the children of all ages there. Of course, there was a perk that I got to see my temporary spiritual director, Sister Liz. After the children welcomed us to Peru, they had recess. While most of the girls challenged the high school boys to a basketball game, a few of us stayed on the patio to play with the little ones. I have never seen or heard such joy from having an impromptu photo shoot. You see, I wanted to snap a few photos of the children. This small desire turned into the little ones modeling and me calling them Senor and Senorita. I have so many pictures of the girls and boys' faces smiling and jumping and screaming and laughing. Who know how awesome the words "mirame" and "sonria" really were?! At one point, after getting a tour of the school and singing and praying with the fourth year students and Sister Cathy, we climbed the infamous green stairs to the top of one of the mountains in Montenegro. The sight was breathtaking. I truly cannot put it into words. And the chapel for the school literally brought tears to my eyes, because as Sister Annette said, "Just as the IHMs started in a little hut in Monroe, this chapel started as a hut in Montenegro. 

     Our final stop on the tour of Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro, was the convent. I'm not sure what it was, maybe the sunflowers all over the room, maybe the little Chapel that had a window which looked directly out to the streets, or maybe the simple beauty of the building, but when I got to the rooftop, tears started streaming down my face. I wasn't sad, no, that wasn't quite it, but rather happy, so very, very, very happy. When she noticed, Sister Cathy kind of put her arm around me in an awkward side hug and said, "It's okay to cry, you know. It's okay to be a hot mess, here." I smiled and I knew she was right. Here was a place where I felt my heart yearning to stay...for a very long time. But as all good things do, our visit came to an abrupt end and I felt a piece of my heart break off to stay there "siempre."

     The next day, our last day in Peru, we found ourselves in Miraflores, my literal "old stomping ground." We paid a visit to Villa Maria lower and then, walked the way to EIC, which had been my home for a month last summer. I couldn't thank God for the opportunity to spend my last hours in Peru with the Sisters I had began to call family. I felt like a welcomed home little sis as I laughed and hugged and spoke with my dear Sisters. Once a month calls helped relieve the pain of being separated for a year but nothing could quite compare to literal hugs from them. Just like "old times" Sister Eileen was challenging me to grammar wars over flat adverbs and Sister Marie and I did a good amount of faith sharing in a matter of minutes. Of course, selfies with Sister "Mom" Regina were also in store as well as a full commentary on the dances and music the boys performed by Sister Antonieta. And, I finally got my hug from Sister Anjelica, my hashtag girl. I was so eternally grateful for those few hours with the girls and the rejoicing that came after I opened my present, revealing the sign from God I had been waiting for, for two weeks. When we had to pile into, for the last time, the van, I waved at my Sisters waving back at me and could not control the silent tears that fell down my face. I felt like a little kid being separated from her family. And again, a piece of my heart was left there, as well. 

      Before we knew it, we were back at La Pla to finish packing and cleaning up our spaces before dinner and then before heading out the airport to begin the journey home. There's so much more to this story of my Aventura Peruana take two like climbing the Andes Mountains, hearing stories of cougars, bobcats, scorpions and rice from Sister Annette, birthday celebrations and even a flood and an earthquake. But alas, I'm so emotionally spent by writing this blog post, that I simply cannot write anymore. I promise though, to myself especially, that I will write more about my Aventura Peruana because I need to. I need to write about what happened to my heart and soul while in Peru. I need to write about my experience, but until the next blogpost, I'll keep imagining myself walking down the streets of my favorite country. And of course, praying for all of the beautiful people I met along the way. Oh and I must not forget to thank all of you who traveled prayerfully with me during my journey. Keep those prayers coming, my friends, because I know it was through your intercessions that God was so incredibly good and revealing to me. VIVIR LA VIDA!

High Reared Upon Thy Noble Hill

"Everytime you smile at someone, 

it is an action of love, 

a gift to that person, 

a beautiful thing."

- Mother Teresa

     There are days when I absolutely dread going to Immaculata, like on days when I have a final, or when I have to give a huge presentation. But even on those days, walking across back campus can always remind my face to smile. Maybe someone said hello, someone gave me a hug, or I just happened to look up at the dome but regardless, even on those days I dread the most, IU always reminds me why I choose it: it's all around absolute beauty. Yesterday, however, wasn't a day that I was dreading traveling to IU. In fact, I was more than excited to be going home to the dome, even if only it was for a visit. It always seems on days like that, when I am more than excited to be going home to the dome, I drive faster there and slower on my drive back to Croydon.

     Right after Mass at my parish, I jumped in the car to begin the journey back to the Noble Hill of IU. I found myself belting out country music songs at the top of my lungs with the windows down all the way to school. You could easily say I was in my happy place. This was especially true when my favorite station started playing some Zac Brown Band. As I cruised down the turnpike visions of my friends and cookouts danced in my head. Of course, I couldn't wait to visit some of my favorite Sisters. 

    I parked my car and immediately went to check in with Sister Cathy...but she was a nun missing in action. So I left her a package and went on my way to the Motherhouse. I left some presents in various mailboxes and had such beautiful conversations with my Sisters there. We talked about everything from Peru to coming back to school. Without a doubt, they always know how to put a smile on my face. I may dread going to work for the amount of homework I have to get done, but without a doubt, they always make it worth it for me. Whether they come just to chat or they come in for business, when I am beyond that desk at work, I'm smiling because they make it worth it for me. If I ever need a pick me up, I go to visit the nuns and the Motherhouse Sisters definitely set the beautiful precedent to a wonderful day yesterday for me. I spent a little over an hour there in the office conversing and hugging and catching up with "My Girls." I wouldn't have had it any other way. 

    After my adventures there, I headed back over to school for our NSO BBQ. It was so great to see a good amount of my friends just to eat, kick back and chat. We laughed, joked around and had the good eats but before we knew it, we were breaking up the party. Some were starting vacations, others had long drives home and still others had good plans for the weekend. As for me, I still had a lot of visiting to do. 

     When we finished our get together, I found myself walking down the familiar road to another familiar place: Camilla Hall. I had a mission and that was to sneak in some brownies and cookies to Sister Marie. Of course, Lord knows she probably shouldn't eat them, but she was going to. I knew that if she was at home, she would eat the brownies I made for the Sisters in her house anyway. And so, I successfully snuck in her treats and found myself chatting away with this dearheart for almost two hours. Sister Marie had been such a mentor to my little sister, Lizzie, during her first year at her new school. I definitely accredit this woman with all of Lizzie's success in adjusting to St. Charles and I don't think she will ever know how grateful I am to her. Whenever I would see her at school, she would always be so excited and welcoming to see me. I couldn't help but feel right at home with her. And now that she has moved, I can't hide my excitement that I might get to see her a little more than usual.

     While we were talking, so much of my personal philosophy was reiterated. Camilla is a place I love so much, perhaps as much as I love the Motherhouse, but maybe a little more. Whenever I step foot in the front door, I am greeted with a smile and there are just so many Sisters there who have hugs ready. The Sisters there definitely remind me why I want to do what I want to do, that is, what God is calling me to do. In these Sisters, especially in Sister Marie, I see a life so ecstatic even now after they have served in so many various ways. They are still smiling, they are still completely in love with God and they are, beyond all other things, one hundred percent human. I simply love them all so much and I cannot wait to be one hundred percent a part of their joy. 

    I could hardly believe I spent almost two hours just talking with Sister Marie. We brought up so many topics and it was so easy to talk with her.Of course, toward the end of our conversation, I found myself almost in tears as we talked about the dignity of human life. So often, when we think of Pro-Life issues within our church, immediately our minds go toward the dignity of the unborn child. Believe me, I am such an advocate for the sanctity of that life, I also truly believe that our elderly are forgotten. As I told Sister Marie, I feel that our elderly, especially our older Sisters, are forgotten by the outside world, especially if they can no longer communicate as well as they used to or are bedridden. Yet for me, those are the Sisters I feel so connected with; I have a soft spot in my heart for them. I love stopping in their rooms, just to say a prayer or two for them or with them, or just to sit and hold their hands. That, for me, is life-giving. They have given so much, and through them, I am encouraged to plow through, to persist this religious life. They give me hope. As I was speaking this to Sister Marie, I found my eyes welling with tears because of the truth. I promised her I would visit often once I got back to school and we could engage in many more heart to hearts. Oh what a joy it is to have such a friend in a Camilla Sister. 

     After my visit to Camilla, I headed on through the grotto as I anticipated the arrival of my long lost Peruvian Sister, Lauren. We hadn't seen each other since the day we arrived back in the States from our lovely excursion to South America and it was long past time to catch up. We headed down the Noble Hill to a little place called Mi Pais which specializes in South American dishes. Of course, we sat down and immediately wanted empanadas. We sat in our little booth, surrounded by Peruvian artifacts and art, for almost two hours (two is the magic number today) and enjoyed all the food we ate. Oh wow was it perfect. We looked through the pictures, we reminisced and laughed so hard. We proposed a trip back next Summer and you can bet your bottom dollar, it will happen. 

    We had one final stop while at the Noble Hill and that was to beckon Sister Cathy down from her room for a visit. The dear lady obliged and we continued our stories of Peru. But oh, is there so much more to tel her. But we showed her the pictures and laughed even more as we shared our adventure with her. Laughing with Sister Cathy could easily be one of my most favorite things to do in all the world. I find myself, each time, wanting to stay and laugh or share some more. She has, in the past three years, become more than a mentor to me. It seems so ironic to me that we live life so fully without knowing which people will touch our lives and then when a person, like Sister Cathy, touches our life in such a way, we wonder how we ever lived so fully without them. That's how I feel with Sister Cathy; how could I have ever lived life without her. And yet, I know God truly had a plan when He blessed me with her. 

     Our hug goodbye was bittersweet and I found myself wishing I told her one thing or another about Peru or about life in general. I am so used to seeing her every day during school that during the summer time, I find myself often wishing I could run across Back Campus to her office to share whatever it is I need to. Sometimes I feel like she is my open diary, but alas, God always has a plan and we are always exactly where we need to be at every moment in time. Oh gosh, I miss her already. She sent us off on our way after inspecting our nun cars and before I knew it, I was on my way back home. However, in the rear view mirror was the most beautiful sunset I had seen in awhile. As if I couldn't tell at any moment during my day, my adventure at the Noble Hill was certainly a blessed one. 

    I can honestly say that on any given day at the Noble Hill, one of the greatest reminders of why I choose that place for school, is because of the Sisters. Without them, Immaculata would just be any other school for me. But with them, they make it perfect. They keep me on track, they keep me smiling, they keep me in prayer and they give me the encouragement to keep on keeping on. Even on the roughest days, when I think that I could easily just give up on this discernment, they are right there beyond me, especially my dear Sister Cathy, subtly reminding me that there is more to this life than that which meets the eye. There is more to this religious life that outweighs any heartache or trouble within. Yes, that's the truth. Because without their very human example, I would probably have thrown in the towel. Yes, I think I am beginning to know the reason behind why God wanted me at Immaculata. It is here that I have met some of the strongest people I know and I am so blessed. Oh yes, so blessed being high upon this noble hill. 

     

What Color Is Red?

"I can't remember my exact reactions. I know they were varied - 

a mixture of surprise, disappointment, awe over horror, 

but also contentment - resignation and even joy."

- Sister Mary Avellino, IHM

     "What color is red?" or in Spanish, "Que color es rojo?" was a phrase that essentially summed up our trip to Peru. Whether we were red with embarrassment, red with laughter, or red with sunburn, our white, American faces were almost always red and Sister Marie never let us forget. She would always ask sarcastically, "What color is red?" and we would all laugh. Even driving to the airport on Thursday night we were still repeating the phrase over and over with every new adventure in the car. However, the final time we asked the question, it was serious. What color is red? We all said together and I answered, "Red is the color of our eyes and cheeks after we have been crying so hard and so long." And that was the truth. 

     After finally checking in for our flight and checking our bag, we joined the sisters for some last Quatro Day (that is, 4D ice cream...the best) in the airport before heading into security. Eight of us sat around one tiny, little, round table and laughed our last laughs together and took our last pictures. My heart was melancholy and yet, rejoicing in the goodness of God. Finally, it was time to go through security ... and time to say our final goodbyes to the sisters at the gate. One by one we each hugged each other and my eyes, the eyes that never, ever cry in public, began to water. There was no escaping it, no avoiding it, not forgetting to cry. No, with each hug, my face got wetter and wetter. And there was no embarrassment. I just cried, because it was like a band-aid: my heart had been operated on, fixed and made for the better. The sisters put band-aid on to help it heal and now, I was able to go home with a brand new and transformed heart. But, I couldn't leave the band-aid on. So, as my big Sisters, the ripped it off and smiled and as they saw how my heart had grown. Gee wiz. Thanks, that hurt. But I knew, I had been changed for the better. And the saying goodbye was just the ripping off of a bandaid. It stung for a while, but now, I can smile and say, I'm glad they changed me.

    Our last week in Peru was a hard one. I realized this while on the bus Monday morning: Grief is so hard when you have to live for the moment even though it is inevitable that something painful will happen soon. For me it was the hardship of having to walk into my classrooms with a HUGE smile on my face despite the fact that I knew in a few days I would be leaving and my heart was already so sad. But, I have had practice hiding my feelings, so for two days, I went in and out of the classrooms smiling and loving each moment. At night, or on the bus when I was able to really think and reflect, I would feel the inevitable pain of knowing I had to leave soon. I am, as I view myself, a person who lives in the moment and so, with each and every moment I was given, I lived it up. 

     During the last two days, all of our students were gradually saying goodbye. Out of the four of us, I was the only one in the secondary grades, that is high school level, as per my major! While it was hard for the others to leave, I am sure, their students were not as upset as mine...so it seemed. For little kids, they are sad for the moment, and then they keep going on with life. While yes they miss those they have met, their comprehension of what would be happening in a few days was little. For my students, they knew what was happening and their hearts were pained by the experience. Each grade had planned some sort of goodbye for me, whether it was a giant card, a song, a speech or a party, each said goodbye in their own way...making it easier and harder for all of us. They had given me the opportunity to have closure and yet, made those last moments more unforgettable than all the rest. 

     Each of the little speeches told me how important I had become in their lives. Some had even gone as far as to say that I was not just a mentor or a teacher for them but a friend. I was almost in tears every time. Some were even wise enough to say that goodbyes hurt more when you do not know when the next time is that you will see each other and isn't that the truth. When it was finally my turn to thank them, from the bottom of my heart I told them that there was no way I could eve forget those days I spent at CSA in Callou. I told them how much they had changed my life by their simply living each day to the full with me both in the classroom and out. I told them how blessed I was to have had the experience of having students and friends. But the most important thing I told them, for me and for them, was that they had become more than students and more than friends; they had become my little sisters.

     Thursday, the day we were leaving, was of course, the hardest. It was the feast of San Antonio, the patron of their school. So, of course, they had an assembly, and a special day. The day before they had adoration all day which I was so blessed to spend some time at. The assembly was fantastic but what was even better was the free time (or not so free time....pretty sure my girls were all skipping class) we had afterward to simply say our goodbyes. While I absolutely loved every moment in the classroom, I loved being able to just hang out with the chicas. We took tons of pictures, had lots of laughs and told even more stories. In fact, we even found a name for ourselves: the Quiet Llama Chicas. Yeah, we are that cute. We spent time just sitting on the floor of the classroom, eating causa and loving life. I wouldn't have spent my last moments with them any other way. Saying goodbye was so hard. 

      We found ourselves back at EIC soon enough and eating on last lunch with the sisters in our house. After lunch, the girls went upstairs to finish packing, but I had some other things to do first. First of all, I had to meet Cesar, the infamous fourth grader at the school and second, I had to go visit Sister Eileen. On my first day in EIC I found myself in her office, so it was only right to go there on my last day. I had wanted to simply give her the "nun mail" from CSA and have a little chat, but God had something else in store. Yes, in fact, He blessed me with one of the most beautiful conversations I have ever had. Sister Eileen, I then understood, had read me like an open book. Amid our tears, she told me how grateful she was for our being there in their convent, the new life we brought to them and all about the ups and downs of religious life. I never cry openly in front of people unless I have known them for a very extensive amount of time, yet there I was bawling my eyes out with this woman of God who so honestly loves Jesus and the work He has asked of her. I was in awe of her, from the very moment I met her (she drove a mean stick shift), at that moment and even now as I think about it. It was certainly a moment in my life I could never, ever forget. And if she ever gets around to reading this, I hope she knows how much I appreciate the color red in our eyes and on our cheeks! 

     I did meet Cesar after that and then quickly headed off to finish some last minute things, like packing and writing. Before we knew it, we were all smushed in a car, just the way we arrived, headed to the airport where we then checked in and had our ice cream and tears. As I sat on the airplane, I looked out my window honestly and cried. I cried because I knew in my heart I had been so blessed. I had been blessed with so many angels and like my girls had said so truthfully, the hardest part about all of these goodbyes was not knowing when I will ever see them again. Leaving everyone was so hard, but I know that because I knew them, I had been changed for good. I can't thank God enough and I can't wait to go back again! Here's to the tears and the laughter that will once again ensue when American me steps foot on Peruvian soil! 

Who Am I? - A Reflection on the Visitation

"How does this happen to me,

 that the Mother of my Lord should come to visit me?"

- Luke 1: 39-56

    I found myself, yet again, sitting in the Chapel here in EIC, Peru. A few sisters were out and about visiting Montenegro for the 25th Anniversary of the school and so, the entire right side was empty except for me. Like usual, I was a few minutes early to Chapel when suddenly Sister Antonieta came over to me and asked me to move my seat closer to the altar. The Sisters here pray the Office inside of Mass and so, that meant I would be carrying the right side for prayers with Father. This would have been no problem, except for one thing: I cannot read Spanish for the life of me. And just when I thought I was on the right page, I wasnt. That was when Sister came over again to tell me it was the Feast of the Visitation! HOW PERFECT! I thought. Actually, it might have been PERFECTO! You see, my spanglish is getting better and better day by day!

    As I sat listening to the readings, I did not need to know Spanish in order to understand. These readings were some I had long ago memorized because of their beauty. I listened and reflected as Father proclaimed Elizabeths surprise at the arrival of her cousin Mary, pregnant with Jesus, the Lord. I heard in my heart: WHO AM I THAT THE MOTHER OF MY SAVIOR SHOULD COME TO ME? WHO AM I? WHO AM I? It just echoed over and over and over in my heart until finally it hit me: Elizabeth was the COUSIN of Mary, so, of course, they would have a visit. But yet, she was humbled. Now, I was not hearing Elizabeth proclaim WHO AM I but rather my own heart. WHO AM I, meager Becca Gutherman, that the MOTHER OF MY JESUS should protect, should visit me, should open her heart to me, should guide me, should be there as my own mother? Seriously, WHO AM I? Like so many times, I felt humbling tears in my eyes as I realized this experience Elizabeth had set for us so many years ago. Elizabeth was SHOCKED and HUMBLED at the sight of Mary that even the infant in her womb (John) leapt for joy. I, myself, should be leaping with joy at the very notion and idea that MARY is with me ALWAYS! And yet, how many times I have taken this for granted. I do not leap for joy, but rather merely acknowledge my Mother. But that is not all!

     After Elizabeth proclaims the greatness of the visitation, Mary continues the conversation with her now famous Magnificat. This has been my favorite "Mary Prayer" for as long as I can remember. "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God, my Savoir," she proclaims. "He has looked with favor on His lowly servant." Yes, because it is my favorite, I can, like so many other Catholic prayers, recite the Magnificat. But that would mean nothing if I did not feel anything when I prayed it. Every time I experience such a beautiful work of God in my life, I feel like Mary in this moment. My soul literally feels as if it will take off and fly because it is so joyful, so rejoicing, so grateful to God. Every. Single. Time. I feel as if God has looked with favor on His lowly servant. Because, truly WHO AM I that God should bless me so greatly. I am a sinner, I have my faults, I make mistakes and yet, still, God continues to bless me over and over and over again. Not a single one of us is worthy of the goodness God bestows on us, myself very much included. I know I do not deserve the great blessings God has given me, especially my time here in Perú. My mind cannot fathom this greatness and continuously, I feel as if I should fall on my knees to praise God unceasingly. But then I remember, that when I wake up each morning and say to God, today my life is Yours, I can praise God through my actions. Yet, as much as I do through my actions, God blesses me even more. WHO AM I that God should bless this lowly servant? My soul will continue to proclaim and praise God for all of this. 

      All my time here in Peru, I have been asking: WHO AM I? WHO AM I that God should bless me with such beautiful experiences with the sisters, the people, the students, the love? WHO AM I that I should go to bed each night content with the day, content in the stomach, content in the mind, content in the heart? WHO AM I that I should walk around with a smile each day? WHO AM I to be moved to tears at the sound of little children blessing the Blessed Virgin Mary? WHO AM I that I should receive much hugs and love from "my CSA girls"? WHO AM I that I should receive such guidance and prayers from my sisters here in Perú? WHO AM I that I should be so blessed? WHO AM I that the Mother of my Savior should not only visit me but be with me each and every step of my journey through life? WHO AM I that my heart be blessed with the very presence of Jesus? WHO AM I but a lowly servant of the Lord? 

      In the past few days, the presence of devotion to Mary has been overwhelming through various May Processions and feast days. Music has always been my highest form of prayer and so when I was so blessed with a song sheet during the CSA Primary May Procession, my heart was overwhelmed. Listening to the many little voices of the children singing and singing praise to Mary rejuvenated my devotion and my questioning of WHO AM I? One song in particular: Junto A Ti Maria, sums it all up for me. While it is a Spanish hymn, in English it sings: make us humble and simple like you. Mother, mother, mother, mother. WHO AM I but a lowly servant of the Lord?

Sure, Knock Your Socks Off - Peruvian Adventure Part Two

"I can understand these people better, now I know."

 - Brooks Jenkins, "Loneliness"

     We thought the saying was long gone, and so did the sisters here in Peru. But then Madrecita said it. It must be a Nebraska thing we all said and she laughed. Knock your socks off, a phrase that was once so common and has seemingly passed to the wayside has become our new catch phrase. Can we do this? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we do that? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we eat this? Sure, knock your socks off. Needless to say, my socks have been knocked off quite a lot. 

     I know from all the pictures it seems that there is all fun and no work. Well, let me be frank: when you love what you do, it cannot nearly be considered work. The truth is, the sisters have been trying to hard to give us a Peruvian Culture crash course in the past few days. We were only in school two days last week since we arrived in the middle of the week, and our schedule has been crazy ever since. However, we are not aware of our schedules until the moment before something is about to happen. We got home early? Okay, let us do this and this and this and maybe that, too. We have been working super hard in the school as teachers, but we have also been experiencing everything under the sun. DISCLAIMER: I do not usually take pictures at work ;)

     On Saturday, we attended what we in the states would call a Carnival. In Peru, it is called a Kermesse. There were rides and food and lots of entertainment. The Kermesse was not just any old carnival though, it was a fundraiser for another IHM School. So, our being there benefitted the school. We were able to grab a bite of a Bembos Burger (since it WAS Memorial Day weekend) and walk around the grounds of the Villa Maria school. In the background were picturesque mountains piled high. It was like walking in a dream. 

     That night, when we got back from the Kermesse, we had plenty of time to knock our socks off. So, we headed into town to Santa Rosa of Lima and the Lord of the Miracles. We took a new bus which, of course yielded tons of new adventures. I love riding the bus with Sister Regina, a woman of exploration, because she truly has so much knowledge about the world of Peru. She always has a story to tell and I quite honestly, absolutely, positively LOVE it. The Shrine of St. Rose of Lima was simply beautiful. There is a tradition based on the story that she locked a belt around her waist and then through the key in the well so no one could ever open it. This tradition is that pilgrims from all over come and throw their wishes or prayer intentions in the well. Of course, we did it. We also had the chance to pray in the church (after Mass was over and we were done getting reprimanded by the Spanish Dominicans....). Immediately, when I knelt down on the wooden kneelers (no comforting pillows or anything, just wood), I was brought to tears. St Rose had touched my heart in such a way that I cannot even explain. I was still praying when the other girls and Sister left the Chapel and apparently, according to Sister, I was praying my little heart out. Down the block, we also we able to visit the Lord of the Miracles. I am not too familiar with the story but apparently it is an image of Jesus that has never been able to be knocked down. Quite impressive if you ask me! Our Saturday was packed full of adventure and I am so very, very blessed!

     The next day, we headed to Mass down the street in the ovulo. The ovulo is like those pain in the butt jug handles or circles they have in New Jersey, but instead of just being road, there are so many stores and parks and everything under the sun in the ovulo. Our ovulo has a church which is very simple and yet beautiful. Everything was in Spanish (shocker) but the music truly warmed my heart. I think that is what I miss the most about being here; being able to sing along to the music. After Mass, we had a light breakfast and then headed out the door to Montenegro. Once again, we found ourselves at something like a Carnival. It was not as big as a Kermesse and was called Bingo. It reminded me of an Ice Cream Social and Basket Auction. There were three other students and two sisters from IU, including my dear Sister Cathy, staying in Montenegro doing some nursing work. They had been testing the students for malnutrition and what a culture shock they had each experienced. It was so good to see familiar American faces running toward us across the patio. There, we were able to help with the Tombola and the selling of Hot Dogs, Aqua and Chorizos. In the Tombola, we had a crash course in Spanish numbers. Yeah, that was a bit confusing. Then, when selling the food and drinks, we had to be able to not only understand the Spanish but to be good in Math, too. After about five minutes, we had the hang of things and quite honestly, it has been one of my favorite memories so far. 

     Montenegro is so deeply a part of my heart. The amount of obvious poverty is astounding and if it had not been for my previous experiences in working with the poor, I, too, would have experienced the culture shock my peers were experiencing. The people of that city, if you could call it that, are so gentle, simple and kind. Regardless of my lack of Spanish, they accepted me and loved me. Children I would say hola to would simply run into my arms for a hug and a kiss. Mothers and Fathers would smile and try to have a conversation with me. And the sisters, they were so happy. Being in Montenegro reiterated two things greatly in my heart: first, that I am meant to work with the poor and second, that true happiness is not in the amount of things you have but rather the amount of love which you give. I felt the happiest simply sitting with my friends in Montenegro helping at the Bingo than anywhere else that far. I know I am meant to work with the poor. 

     Monday we were headed back to Colegio San Antonio to get back in the classrooms. Two days in this week and I feel at home, with the sisters, the faculty and the students. Especially the students. We had more introductory classes yesterday since I meant some new students but today I did some teaching and I was happier than ever. It was another reiteration that I am meant to be a high school teacher. My girls are so good to me and I feel so blessed to teach them and laugh with them. Every morning I am greeted with hugs and kisses as per the culture down here and I would not trade it for the world. Tomorrow, my teacher has asked me to read to the girls so that they can hear the correct pronounciation of English words. I am so glad professor Mooney prepared me so well in my Literature class with Edgar Allan Poe, because I am reading to them The Fall of the House of Usher. What I have seen with the girls, and all the students really, is that they are eager to learn. I love their energy; it truly invigorates me. They speak English so well, some of them, while others struggle. However, I love my job here. It is so freeing and beautiful.

     In a lot of my personal reflections, I have thought about my duty to serve the poor and my fulfillment of Gods mission for me. There are a few things that are confirmations to me that I am exactly where I need to be at this present moment in time: snow (which we will never see here), sunflowers (which I am seeing constantly) and the Infant of Prague (which Sister Antonietta and I spoke about so wonderfully tonight). I have been recieving so many confirmations from God that right now, I am meant to be in Peru working with the people here, teaching them English. I am reminded every day of my blessings and the gifts I have been given. This place is changing me, as they promised it would. It is not changing me in a way in which I am different, but rather that I am being stretched. I am being stretched to see how much I truly believe God is loving through me. If I could sum up my experiences so far it would be to say: this is what happens when one truly, whole-heartedly and unreservedly gives herself to God - she experiences a peace of mind and heart like never before. And that, my friends, is what I am experiencing: a whole new peace. 

     One final aspect of this experience that I must elaborate on is living in community with the sisters. While I have done this many times before, I have never done so for such a long period of time. Already I believe the sisters know me. I have gotten to know each of the sisters in a different aspect. Sister Regina shares her stories simply on the bus. Sister Lisa and I share the Mass together. Sister Eileen stopped me in the kitchenette today just to tell me how obvious it is that I know Gods hand is in every aspect of my life and that she is always praying for me. Sister Antonietta shares my devotion to the Infant. Sister Angélica shares my gift for laughter. Sister Marie shares my deep devotion to loving the poor. And Sister Nelida, well she shares our youth. Getting to know the sisters has been such an experience. Just a little sidenote, not one of them, unless someone told them, knows that I am discerning a vocation to religious life. However, I think they are catching on to my secret. Sister Antonietta asked me after I mentioned that the Infant of Prague is the patron of those discerning vocations, and I said, well maybe, sister. Of course, soon after Sister Eileen caught me in the kitchenette and was telling me how much she is praying for me, because what I want to do is harder now than it was in her youth. Did she overhear me say something to Sister Antonietta, I do not know. But I have been told that even if I never utter a word about it, it is so obvious that my only desire is to do Gods will and love Him whole-heartedly for the rest of my life. And while I could easily do that as a married woman, I know that He is asking a little bit more of me. Let us see, if by the end of the month, they know. 

¿Como Se Dice...I Love It Here?

"Maria mírame, Maria mírame.

Si tu me miras, El también me mirara.

Madre mía mírame, de la mano llévame.

Muy cerca de El que ali me quiero quedar."

- "Maria Mírame"

   Well, here it is: the long awaited blog from Perú. We have been so very busy here, from arriving late on Tuesday night to going to school via the bus to visiting classrooms and sisters to walking all over the city of Miraflores. So far, each day has been filled with aventuras. I have already had a novio (a boyfriend), have told people we were monjas (nuns) and have been called a madrecita (the common name for sisters). We have eaten everything from pollo (po-yo, chicken) to ceviche (fish with lemon sauce). We have had questions from our students from what is you favorite color to do you have a boyfriend to have you met any celebrities. While I cannot speak entirely for my three other peers, and truly mis hermanas (my sisters), I know each day has been so fruitful and blessed for each of us. In truth, I know we are all always experiencing something new. Even though we are traveling and visiting here together, at the end of the day we each have a funny story. So, I cannot really share their stories, as they are always better coming from the person herself, but I can tell you mine. Now keep in mind, for having been here on four days, a lot has happened. So, bear with me but enjoy the aventuras. 

   We started out Tuesday, each of us meeting from our respective homes at the Newark airport. Having traveled so much (I am so very blessed) and by myself, I know the ropes inside and outside. I am the type of person, when traveling in the airport, via airplane, who likes to zip through check in and security then relax at the terminal. Others often like to take their time at check in and security, but me, no. So, that is what we did. We met in the morning, flew through check in and right before security sad our good-byes. While I am not the oldest on this aventura, I have taken on the role of Madre simply because I am a worry wort and I know the other moms were as well. No worries, I told them. If anything bad happens, which it wont but if it does, it is my fault. Hugging my Dad good-bye was probably the hardest thing. My sisters had each headed to school separately and we even got the chance to drop Lizzie off at school. Sister Jean walked her in the door and then said good-bye to me as well. There were no tears with any of my family members, but with my Dad, the longer he held onto our hug, the more our eyes filled with tears. I wanted to tell him not to do this to me, to not make me at the very last minute, regret leaving the country for a month, to regret leaving him behind. I also wanted to tell him not to worry, that I will be okay; but truly there is no guarantee that nothing would happen to us in our travels alone. Leaving daddy was hard. It always is. Soon, we were through security and waiting in the terminal. We made our last phone calls and soon we were immersed in a Peruvian crash course on the plane. And that was just the start.

    Among the conversations between us, the big question was: who is picking us up. I was so proud of my girls for succeeding in customs and baggage check. You would not believe the amount of people waiting at the airport for people landing. Nothing like in the States. We were searching and searching among the sea of people for a small ocean of BLUE. Nothing, nothing, nothing and then: MONJITAS! I yelled monjitas and ran to the sisters. All I heard in response was laughter and "that must be Becca." Right away, I felt, they probably knew me more than I knew myself at that moment. Immediately, hugs and kisses were given from all the sisters. We were ushered out of the waiting area and into cars. Right away, I decided that Sister Eileen drives a mean stick shift. The experience driving in Perú was almost like what I experienced in Jamaica. After I reached more than two hands, I stopped counting how many times we almost died. Not because of Sister driving, but because of the lack of order among the roads and lights. I was fascinated by everything; I could not stop staring out the window. At one point, I told Sisters Eileen and Angélica, about what we ate on the plane. In response, Sister Eileen said: Polo is what you wear, Pollo is what you eat. We were all laughing hysterically. Finally, we made it to the convent and our beds.

    The next day, we had our first experience on the bus. Sister Regina told us: You know you are comfortable in a new country when you can take the bus. It was on this hour long bus ride from Miraflores to Callou that I met my first Peruvian novio (boyfriend). Of course, I barely speak Spanish, so I could not understand anything. Sister Regina encouraged the entire flirtation! I was dying inside, absolutely mortified. It seems that in every country I visit, I am the one, of all people, who gets hit on! In the end, he told Sister that when he comes to Inmaculado Corazón, he was going to bring me flores (flowers), a hat and a shirt with his name on. He then asked who he should ask for when he came and that was when sister told him to ask for the Madre (the Superior of the convent). He was mortified. And so, no more novio. 

     We finally made it to the school and convent, San Antonio, in Callou. We met the sisters, but not the students since it was Report Card day. They were so gracious and beautiful. We had a tour of the convent and the school. I fell in love right away. The sisters were already so good to us. We headed home and then had a free night. I was so tired, I was in bed before nine. The next day, we were on the bus again. Sister went with us just in case, but we were pretty secure. As soon as we got there, the students and the teachers gave us a welcome ceremony and presented with gifts. It was so precious and beautiful. We soon after met our students. While the other girls were in the younger grades, I was in high school and I loved every single moment of it. The olders senoritas speak English very well, but they were so interested in the culture. My job with them is to perfect their pronounciations and help them with grammar. I am in Heaven. They are practicing pronounciation by reciting poesia, mi favorita. They have taught me a little Spanish, but I am there for the English. I love it so much. They are so gracious, so sweet and so welcoming. It has me so excited to be a teacher. 

     We did the same thing on Friday, having lunch at the convent there and then heading home, only on Friday, school lets out early so we were home very early. We took adventage of the time and three of us walked to the market just to look. It is overwhelming how beautiful it is. A little slice of heaven in the middle of the city. We have perfected, almost, the bus riding, since we do it alone now. The first day alone, we missed the stop home, but that was okay since we just walked. But, now we are fine. No problema, si? We have a schedule down almost but still it changes every so often. I love the children, the people, the sisters, the culture. I love everything. 

     There are a few stories significant to only me here, because, while the sisters do not know of my discernment, it still exists and I have been taking every chance I can to be with the sisters. My first companion was Sister Marie who helped me with the Office through Mass and then allowed me to spend breakfast with her. We chatted and chatted and chatted. It is ironic how small this world is; she is from the next parish over at home. Yes, she grew up in Bensalem. We have often had, even in these first few days, many conversations about so much. She is such a dear with so much experience and so many stories. 

    On Thursday in Callou, I got to know Sister Liz very quickly and very closely. She is the novice directress here in Perú, but there are no novices. We had been searching the convent for somebody we she took me into the little Chapel. Immediately, my heart went crazy at the sight of Jesus in the Tabernacle. I told her how much I fell in love, as it was simply made of wood. She found the key and opened it for me, so that Jesus was staring right into my heart. My eyes filled with tears as I proclaimed, MUY BONITO. Sister took her hand and placed it over my heart saying, Jesus is always in your heart. Always. I was so touched by it, that I wrote her a little letter that night. 

     Today, I was so blessed to accompany Sister Lisa to Mass. We walked to the church down the street, Santa Cruz. While it was all in Spanish, just being there was enough for me. Since we have to travel from place to place in the morning, there is not enough time for me to go to Mass. My work then becomes my Mass, but I miss the blessing of the Eucharist. I was so grateful to Sister Lisa and truly, I felt so blessed to be able to share our Mass. 

     Last night, the sisters gave us a welcome ceremony. We had pizza and a few Peruvian desserts, but what was most important to me was the conversation and the laughter. The sisters sang my favorite Spanish Mary hymn, and so, I told them. They asked me where I learned it and I had to tell the truth: at the IHM chapter last year. Of course, the laughed at me. I think they are catching on to my secret. We laughed and conversed for almost two hours before we all decided to hit the hay. It was so beautiful. I love the simplicity of everything. 

     I am so sure there will be many many many more aventuras to come. I am looking so forward to sharing my journey with you all. Thanks for all the prayers, love and support. And please, if there is anything you want to know, just ask. Please pass the word that we are all safe and enjoying every moment! Dios te bendigo!

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!