Be Saints

"I am the first and the last;

I am the Lord who died that you might live. 

I am the bridegroom, this is my wedding song. 

You are my bride, come to the marriage feast."

- Take and Eat, Michael Joncas

     One of my most favorite things about traveling is getting to visit and worship in different Catholic churches. What I love so much about this is knowing that I can go to any Catholic church, be welcomed like family, and the Mass will be familiar to me. I also love listening to the music they sing, the announcements they read (how rich their weekly spiritual life is!) and of course, a different perspective on the readings in the Homily. It is always familiar, even if it's in a different language, and church, specifically Mass, always make me feel at home. 

    This past weekend, I was blessed to the spend time with my bridesmaids in Hershey, PA. We went camping, rode roller coasters and ate a lot of chocolate. As much as I hate being the center of attention, it was beautiful to walk past so many people and have them wish me well wishes for my upcoming marriage. Recently, I've been so busy at school in my ministry job, that I haven't had much time to really focus on the fact that I am, indeed, getting married, in quite a few days. Every so often, in the middle of my chaos, a little alarm goes off in my brain that says, "Reminder. Reminder. You are getting married." And then there's the sub-sequential thoughts of, "I need to order flowers. I need to pay the dj. I need to call our priest. Do we have a place to live yet?" Yikes. Yet this weekend, I had time to enjoy the friendship and sisterhood of my bridesmaids and also focus on the fact that, yes, I am getting married. Judging from the movies, you'd never think that a Bachelorette weekend would be like a retreat. But I'm grateful to my girls for giving me that opportunity. 

   I loved that my girls knew me well enough to make celebrating Mass together a part of the weekend, making the weekend absolutely complete. As I stated above, I love visiting various different churches on my travels. Despite having gone to Hershey so many times, I can't remember ever going to Mass at St. Joan of Arc Parish. When we arrived a few minutes before Mass, I knelt to talk to Jesus. In this conversation, I was drawn to the stained glass windows on the right side of church. Contemporary images of spiritual life, education and so on. I am so used to seeing saints in the stained glass, that these contemporary images really made my Theology heart sing. But when I turned to the left side of the church out of curiosity, I was even more intrigued. I had never seen Catholicism linked so beautifully with Scripture and the present day. My inner Theology student/nerd burst. Each contemporary image on the right was paired with an image of Christ on the left; tied together with only one or two words. 

   Now while I feel I could write a paper on all the windows, I will only share the first two windows with you. You'll have to go see the others for yourself. On the left side was the Holy Family; Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. It simply read, "Spiritual Life." On the right side was a young married couple, with a newborn baby at the baptismal font and a priest baptizing their new baby. Again, below the image, it read, "Spiritual Life." I could only be reminded of what so many sisters have told me during this time of engagement, "We need Holy Families, too." How beautiful was Christ's confirmation to me in my heart through these images! I could not help but think of textbooks and textbooks worth of Theology behind the sacrament of marriage. Because while we will have a wedding day, the sacrament is the most important part of the day. And it's mostly because we get to begin our marriage, which will last a lifetime, with the Eucharist, surrounded by the physical Body of Christ in our family members. 

    Father's homily spoke about the first reading, in which Isaiah says, "my ways are not your ways and my thoughts are not your thoughts." He told us how he fought his vocation to the priesthood, wanting something completely different. I had to laugh as how much I felt connected to this, but in the opposite way. How I fought married life because I felt it wasn't good enough. And yet, I have learned so well these past few years how the vocation to marriage life is just as good and holy as religious life. I simply needed to find my holy, faithful, husband to be. 

   The icing on the cake, or should I say, the icing on the Hershey's bar, was the Communion hymn. I loved the traditional hymns that the congregation sung with the cantor, but my favorite was at Communion. I guess as a person with high empathy and as an auditory learner, I tend to connect with music, stories and people more quickly than the average human. Every so often, when singing in the congregation during Mass, I get to a certain line and suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with emotion. This happened on Sunday with the above quoted hymn. It was Jesus' invitation to me (and Joe), to come to His wedding feast. Yet another confirmation that this is truth. That in 75 days, we will join together in Matrimony at the wedding feast. 

    There's a part two to my day, however. I thought I was finished being blessed during the day but Joe called me on the way home and asked if I might make it home in time to go to Mass with him and his family. I told him I already went to Mass, but I did want to see him. So what better way to spend time together than during Mass (can you tell I love the Eucharist soooooooo much?)? I made it just in time for 5PM Mass at his parish. Again, hearing another perspective on the readings is always good for my heart. This time, the Deacon gave the homily. He correlated a story of what he encourages newly weds to be for each other with the Gospel. Deacon said, "I always encourage young newly weds to remember to be one thing for each other: saints." He reminded the whole congregation of this but I felt that he was speaking right to us. He continued to express that marriage is not just between two people, but a 100% dedication by three people: husband, wife and Christ. The wedding feast was coming back to me for the second day. Just when I thought my blessings were already too numerous for the day, this homily was just another added blessing. Yes, so many church experiences of marriage. 

      God's ways are not our ways and God's thoughts are not our thoughts. Yet somehow, God always manages to speak to our hearts in a way we can understand. I cannot wait to be Joe's wife, to begin a holy family with him, and I wait in the hopeful patience that God will continue to prepare our hearts to be saints. 

Down By The River

"But I love Your feet 

only because they walked 

upon the earth and upon 

the wind and upon the waters 

until They found me."

- "Your Feet," Pablo Neruda

     I feel the closest to God on two occasions: when I'm walking barefoot on the earth (in particular near water) and during Lent/Holy Week/Easter. On Tuesday, when I was late for class because I was too busy bonding with Sister Cathy, she told me to find the perfect spot for my Resurrection cup of coffee. I was told at the beginning of Lent that if I was being a cross to bear for others due to my Lenten sacrifice, I must give up giving up what I gave up for Lent. All of this being said, I should have felt extremely close to God these past forty days and especially during these past few days of Triduum. 

     Maybe you remember how Lent started: bitter cold in the first week of March. We had just celebrated the feast of St. Katherine Drexel and I spent the weekend before in Kensington for our Alternate Spring Break Weekend. These two events, while simple in nature, played a HUGE part in my decision and prayer for how I was going to spend the forty days of Lent. While in Kensington, I met a man whose foot was wrapped in a plastic, black trash bag and was using crutches to get from place to place. As I sat in my corner in the "dining room" with my new friends, I also watched this man. He couldn't have been much older than me, maybe only a few years. He sat weary, somewhat withdrawn. Thomas was his name and I remember thinking then, how much he looked like Jesus on His way to Calvary. Later, when we were sharing around the dinner table did I learn that this man had gotten frost bite on his foot because he didn't have proper shoes for the harsh winter that had been pummeling the Northeast this year. 

     On Sunday, I woke up early and drove home from school to the convent. Shocking, I know, that the first place I would go would be a convent and not my own house. But in truth, this convent was a home to my heart. It was the feast day of St. Katherine Drexel and there was a special Mass in her honor at the Shrine (and the convent of many of my beloved SBS Sisters). As a kid, I remember always being fascinated by the articles of clothing worn by Katie D. Most fascinating were her habit, which shows how tiny of a woman she was (if I stand next to the window casing, I line up perfectly with where her face would have peeked out from behind her veil), and her shoes, the only pair she ever wore. Katie D was a simple woman. The story about her shoes goes (loosely) like this: she had one pair of shoes and whenever they would start to fall apart, she would take a needle and thread to them so as to sew the leather back together. They were perfectly find in her mind and so she didn't need a new pair. Besides why replace that which can be fixed? On her feast day, I allowed myself a visit to the crypt where her habit and shoes are on display for the public. As I looked at Katie D's shoes, I remembered Thomas and then I looked at my own feet, protected by some pair of shoes. I counted my blessings.

      In a few days, I would be struggling with what on earth I was to give up for Lent. I knew I was going to give up coffee, but that was a tradition. I needed something else to do. I searched the internet for suggestions and found something that sparked my interest: shoes. Hmm...could I really give up shoes? Especially since it was the dead of winter in the Northeast and when I would be going to Minnesota in a few days? Well, no. I couldn't exactly give up my shoes BUT I could give up all my shoes but one pair. I have often been told that the hardest thing for me when I enter the convent will be giving up my fashion sense (although some might argue that I don't have one). I never really thought about how many pairs of shoes I owned, but when I looked in my closet to start packing for Minnesota, I realized that I actually might have a problem. Three pairs of boots, multiple pairs of flats and sandals, some heels, etc. So, I packed my bag, and put a single pair of shoes on my feet: my black flip flops. As I was standing at the train station getting ready to head to the airport, my mother called me crazy when she saw my feet. I just laughed. I couldn't wait to hear what the nuns had to say.

      I flew into Chicago, which, as you may know, is always slightly colder than good ol' PA. When I landed, my AE, who loves flip flops as much as me, said she hoped I had another pair of shoes in my bag. I just laughed. Nope. The next morning, when I was boarding the plane to Minnesota with Sister Angela, she, too, mentioned a hope of another pair of shoes in my bag. Again, I laughed. When we landed, I noticed lots of snow and ice on the ground. Well, this will be interesting, I thought to myself. I didn't even pack another pair of "just in case" shoes. I was going big or going home. 

     Those first few days of Lent in Minnesota were hard, I must admit. There was snow everywhere but lucky for me, it was the first few days above freezing Minnesota had seen all winter. Sister Angela got used to my shoeless feet and shrugged every time another Sister at the NCSW Conference asked me if my feet were cold and/or if I was crazy. I laughed. I always answered no. But no one ever really asked me why I wasn't wearing my shoes. I was still at the point in Lent where I wasn't sure what my bigger sacrifice was: not wearing shoes OR the nuns harassing me about my feet. At that moment I was stuck in the middle. There was lots of snow on the ground and there were a lot of nuns near by. But actually, it hadn't been that bad. First week of Lent with no shoes and no coffee was actually a breeze (not a winter wind). 

      I headed back to school after my adventure to Minnesota and was so blessed to experience my first Lent 2014 daily Mass in Marian chapel...that is, the chapel in the building in which I live. I wore my flip flops like a champ down the halls and through Mass. After Mass, Sister Monica Joseph asked if my feet were cold. "Oh no, Sister, I live in this building. Is it cold outside?" I said. She rolled her eyes at me and another Sister laughed. I walked back up to my room for my post-Mass nap without thinking twice of the conversation. As of then, the only side effect of flip-flopped feet for Lent was cold feet between the buildings. 

      A few days later, I started to experience what any devoted flip flop wearer experiences: the stretching of the arches on his or her feet. I began to realize how high the arches on my feet were and had to wrap my foot. In addition, my feet were beginning to be harassed by the cold weather and wet snow: they were cracking. At least they were trying to adapt. Lent was starting to get a little painful by week three. Although, I started to get a kick out of Sister Elaine who would comment on my toenail polish every week. You see, she sits in the first row of chairs in Marian chapel and when I would walk by after communion, she would sneak a peek at my feet. After Mass, she would comment with the color of the week. And on one particular snowy morning, Sister Marita Carmel enjoyed being a reprimanding mother by telling me I needed to get my common sense in check and find a better Lenten practice. 

     Of course nothing quite beats the night I was leaving a Campus Ministry event with the nunnies and we noticed the flurries. I offered my arm to those I was worried about falling and Sister Cathy graciously linked mine. She happened to look at my feet and asked if I was cold. I said, "it's all relative." Of course, she asked why I was wearing flip flops...so I had to tell her. A few minutes after that, I linked all the nunnies together and told them to be careful as they walked the rest of the way to the convent. I prayed none of them would slip for the snow was particularly slippery that night. And as I thought that, my feet went out from under me and I enjoyed a nice heart attack as I grabbed the railing. 

     On Palm Sunday, I entertained the nunnies by requesting Sister Selfies from them. I have always enjoyed being a source of entertainment for the nunnies. That Sunday was no different. As I knelt on the floor next to Sister Pat, our president, and Sister Marita Carmel, the rest of the nunnies gather around me and I said, "Okay Sisters, make sure you can see yourself on the screen." Six Sisters and a Joe Conte fit themselves into the screen. Of course, Sister Pat then asked for her own selfie with me. Wow, what an honor. So, for the next few minutes, we took Becca and Sister selfies. When I took mine with Sister Marita Carmel, the sister who ever so kindly and motherly told me to pick a new Lenten practice, told me, "Next Sunday, you better have shoes on your feet, child of God." I promised to send her a picture but I decided I'll probably just send her this blog post! Hi, Sister. I have shoes on my feet today and they're orange, just as promised. 

     Lent was almost over and every day last week in Sister Cathy's office, we mentioned coffee. She asked how I was surviving. I honestly had no idea. Between the bare feet and the lack of elixir of life, I should have been severely ill or something. But the grace of God sustained me, I am sure of it. On Tuesday she told me that I should plan out a perfect place to enjoy my Resurrection coffee. I hadn't thought about it too much until this morning...Of course, I was reminded of the need to find a special place when I read her Easter card in which she mentioned that Resurrection coffee. 

     As I was standing in the kitchen, with my Easter shoes on, I thought of my place for Resurrection coffee. Mid-Mass, while sitting in the pew with the memorial plaque for my Gutherman Grandparents in it (a way to spend the Holy Day with them, too), it hit me: down by the river. Of course, when I thought that, I couldn't help but hear my SEARCH VI leaders sing and shout "DOOOOOOOOWN BY THE RIIIIVEEEEER." I laughed and then, when I got home, brewed my "Peru San Ignacio" fair trade coffee. When it was finished, I added a little sweetness and got my sister in the car to drive to the River. There, I stood feeling the breeze off the river, with my orange, sunshine Easter shoes and cup of coffee, enjoying that first taste of coffee in forty days. My sister, meanwhile, took her shoes off and had her feet down in the mud by the water. I watched her, took a few pictures, and smiled. These were simple times. 

      I stood there thinking about the journey my feet had taken, the pain they endured and the suffering in solidarity with Christ. I stumbled upon a Neruda poem called "My Feet" halfway through Lent and smiled as it reminded me of Jesus. His feet had walked upon the water, but on the way to Calvary, He walked barefoot upon the wind and the earth. His feet probably looked a bit worse after a few hours than mine did after forty days. But during those forty days, my feet cracked, they bled, they were cold and a bit frozen (I'm not sure how I avoided frostbite), and they were definitely dirty all the time. As I watched my Sister, I wanted so badly to take my shoes off and jump into the river mud and water with her. I thought about how I came to the decision to give up shoes for Lent. I thought about Thomas who probably didn't have a new pair of shoes yet and I thought of Katie D who had a single pair of shoes for years. The more I thought, the more I wanted to take my shoes off, the more I felt constrained. 

      We got into the car and I let my Sister drive to Bristol (she just recently got her permit....ah). As we drove, "This Is How Country Feels" came on the radio during which Randy Houser says something about digging feet in the river mud. I smiled because even though Croydon is suburbia, it truly has the country small town feel. I grew up not wearing shoes for most of the summer and with my bare feet in the river mud. I never feel as free as I do when I'm not wearing shoes. I felt so one with God in that moment by the river with my feet in the mud. But I felt even more free after spending Lent essentially barefoot because not only did I share in the shoelessness of Christ, but also of Thomas and of Katie D. I understood what it meant to not really have a choice in shoe wear. I understand the pain of calloused and bruised feet. I understood the pain of the homeless in the dead of Winter. I understood the blessing of being able to choose to take my shoes off and stand in the river mud. But most of all because of all this, I felt freely bathed in the grace of God. Happy Easter...take your shoes off for a while. 

To Lent or Not To Lent?

"Each soul, upon offering herself to the Lord,
must be prepared to accept both cross and suffering
out of Love for HIM."
- Blessed Frances Siedliska

Brought to you courtesy of Catholic Memes...

     The question was posed the morning of our service trip: who drinks coffee with breakfast? Father and Sister raised their hands. Then Sister elbowed me saying, "What? Is this practice for Lent?" I laughed, then rolled my eyes at her and shook my head. Honestly, I'm not really sure why I didn't raise my hand because everyone knows I was lying to myself if I thought I didn't drink coffee. Needless to say, I was glad people raised their hands for the coffee because I was in need of some hot elixir of life. As I sat at the breakfast table (after laying down the cereal boxes so I could see everyone) with the warm cup on my cheek (to warm myself up, of course), I began to think about what I was going to give up for Lent. I had a few days...that was Saturday morning.

      Now it's the day before the beginning of Lent. I've been seeing statuses about giving up this and giving up that for Lent. My soul started panicking. I HAVEN'T EVEN REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT YET. Now, if you know me and you know me well, you know two things about Lent for me: ONE, LENT is my MOST FAVORITE season of the Church and TWO, I always give great thought to my Lenten sacrifice. If you don't really know me, well then, now you know why I was panicking. So, in my panic, I searched the web. I found a great site which listed some great suggestions such as: cream and sugah in coffee, the Frozen soundtrack, and the radio. Then I found another one that suggested some more practical, serious things, like hot water, smartphone addictions, pillows and beds, and shoes. (I really liked the last one...). I thought, wow how nice. I even read a blog post urging young people to NOT give up social media for Lent so as to maintain their presence on the "battlefield." All really good food for thought. Then it hit me....I knew exactly what I was going to do for Lent.

       Did you think I was going to tell you? Remember that story in the Bible about the Pharisee who said, "THANK YOU GOD FOR NOT MAKING ME A SINNER LIKE THAT MAN?!" Well, brothers and sisters, humility is a gift! The truth is, I mulled over quite a few options. I thought about giving up hot water. I thought about giving up cream and sugar in my coffee. Someone suggested giving up ice cream...I can't eat ice cream; that's cheating. I thought about giving up the Frozen soundtrack but like, I really can't give up listening to and belting out "Let It Go." I thought about giving up shoes (the sisters reprimanding me for not wearing sensible shoes in the snow would really be a cross to bear...hmm...just kidding, nunnies!). I thought about giving up driving to work considering it's only right across the street (once again...the reprimanding). I thought about donating all the change in my car to Catholic Relief Services. Then I started thinking about things that would be really difficult to do, like give up the snooze button (my roommate would appreciate that one..). Imagine, not staying in bed for a half hour longer (would it be cheating if I just set my alarm for later). I also thought about giving up sarcasm and sassiness (how would Sister Cathy feel about that?!). At that rate, I should just take a vow of silence for Lent. I was really trying to weigh my options. 

       I decided on a few things for Lent. It's been a personal philosophy to give up one and do an extra. I have my "do an extra" but I'm keeping it a secret. We'll see if anyone can figure it out. I don't have a give up yet (I'm still thinking about the shoe thing...). Maybe I will go with my traditional, all drinks but water. I will definitely have my Lenten weight loss program then. I might actually, seriously give up using my phone during the day. But then I'd have no friends. Tomorrow, during Ash Wednesday Mass, I think God will give me what I've been waiting for: an idea of sacrifice. Until then, friends, I'll be praying! Oh and if you have any suggestions, I'd be more than willing to discern them! 

Dare to Love You More (Than I Love Myself) - Part Three of a Three Part Series

"There must be a stronger foundation than mere friendship

or sexual attraction. 

Unconditional love, agape love, will not be swayed by time or circumstances."

- The Love Dare, Stephen Kendrick

     Well friends, here it is; the final part of this series. First, my apologies that it has been over five days since the last one, but as you can imagine, with little less than four weeks of school left in the semester, my teachers are having a field day with assignments! There are some days I quite honestly ask myself why I have not yet created a writing career for myself but then again, I love being in the classroom. So, anyway, thank you for your patience as attempt to be both writer and student! Now, onto the last question of my Christian Marriage and Family interview: What is marriage in one sentence?

     My favorite answer is a tie between Mooney's and Sister Kathleen's. First, Sister Kathleen's, because I am sure you are thinking what could a nun possibly know about marriage? Having been a Sister for so many years, she simply answered, "Well, honey, I could write a book about marriage, it's that beautiful." One sentence and so beautiful! And then there was Professor Mooney, who has been married for so many years, has plenty of kids and grandkids (that often he digresses about so many times in class) and loves life. His answer: "Marriage is loving even when common sense tells you not to." 

     Now, you might even be thinking as you're reading this: what can this girl, merely 21 years old, know about marriage? Well there are a few things I could tell you about marriage. If I based my knowledge off my generation and the generation before me, I would say: "Marriage doesn't last like it used to." However true this may be, that statement does not embody what I believe about marriage. I can tell you that by the examples given to me by my parents, my grandparents, my family members, and my parish family, marriage does last and it's beautiful because of the reasons why it does.

      When I look at the beautiful and numerous married couples in my life, I cannot help but beam with love and pride. I get giddy at the sight of the older couples holding hands in church, of exchanges of signs of peace lasting more than a few seconds, of moms and dads taking turns holding baby in church, of husbands and wives pushing the other's wheelchair up the aisle for communion and of course, when no matter what has happened throughout the day, there is a whisper of "I love you" right before bed. 

      I have always been a hopeless romantic. I've already told you that any boy or man who wanted to capture my heart had to be just like my Daddy. I had dreams of going fishing with my boyfriend, going for long hikes in the mountains, burying each other in the sand, being carried piggy back style down any road, planting gardens together, and of course, holding hands a little while after the Our Father was said and done at church. Later in life, we would get married, raise and family and live simply, serving others. But like I mentioned previously, Jesus stole my heart! However, that doesn't mean that I don't regard Marriage with the same respect I used to believe it deserved. If anything, I give it more respect now than I had before, because it's not all about the happy, go lucky moments in a relationship. In fact, it's more about those times of trial.

     My generation, unfortunately, has seen so many marriages "fail." I can look at my grandparents and my friends' grandparents and see such beauty in marriages long lasting still. When I sit back and look at why, I see a level of respect that has long disappeared and a lot has to do with how much you give away. By their example, I have been able to spot my top three reasons for "failing" marriages. Let's look at my grandparents for example: girl wasn't getting in the car unless my grandfather was opening her door and then shutting after she sat down; girl wasn't dressing without her four b's covered (back, booty, belly, and breasts); and finally, girl wasn't spending the night at my grandfather's house. Now, if the first date doesn't end with a long lasting kiss, or even better a sleepover, he's not boyfriend material. Girl...are you girlfriend material? The truth is girls give away so much more now-a-days before a first date is even established. In my grandparents' days, the body was a prize to be cherished and gift not to be given until the day of one's marriage. Now that gift is used as an advertisement; a ploy to get a good date. What mystery is left these days if we use the gift of our bodies as an open advertisement. Not only is the gift now not given to only one person, but rather is now advertised for the whole world to see. It's not even wrapped in wrapping paper anymore. 

     Think about it this way: you're five years old and your best friend gives you a toy, that's not only not wrapped but has been used multiple times by other five years old. And the best part is that after your party is over, your best friend takes back that toy to give it to someone else. Now, is that fair? Are you happy with that gift? Is it even worth calling a gift? You probably didn't even enjoy it because it wasn't really your gift, but rather it belonged to the first person who used it. That's what happens with our bodies today. When we are younger, our parents wrap us in the most beautiful gift wrap possible, but then slowly but surely we become unwrapped. Maybe we've been unwrapped by the media, by rotten example, by another's false hopes. It is almost nearly impossible to remain wrapped until one's wedding day these days. And that my friend, is reason number one why marriages seem to "fail;" the body is no longer gift, but rather object. And that is said for both the body of the woman and the body of the man. 

      Reason number two is clear as day. Our society these days lives by the philosophy that "if it's broken, get a new one." How many times have we thrown something out because it's "broken" when all we needed was a new battery? How many times have we gotten a new sink, when all we had to do was use a little Draino? How many times have we gotten a new car when all we needed was a little brake fluid? How many times have we thrown a paintbrush out when all we needed to do was wash it? How many times? How many times? The same I have witnessed in marriages. One little spat about working too much has forced Divorce Court when all it needed was a simple adjustment of scheduling. One spat about not spending enough time together ended in separate bedrooms (I mean...come on...) when all you needed was family dinner together daily. Don't we see it? One little argument, the marriage appears broken, so we throw it out. Forget the 10, 15, 25 years you spent building the marriage. It broke, get a new one. That's like saying, you spent 15 years building your house and a shingle fell off in the hurricane. So, you knock the whole thing done, break everything else in the house and get a new one. Now, I'm not saying that in a marriage, if the entire second floor blows off in a hurricane that you shouldn't build a new floor. But what I am saying is re-build, fix it, not with someone NEW but with the same man or woman you have been married to for the past x amount of years. But society today says....get something, someone, new. It's not worth the effort to rebuild. 

      Finally, here is reason number three in my mind. The marriage and the family is a direct example of the Trinity in the flesh. Each person of the Trinity parallels with each person in the marriage and the family. It's a lot to comprehend and I am still wrapping my head around it almost a semester later, so I can't really explain it with clarity and simply enough for a blog post. But what I want you to think about is the sacrifice and love found within in the Trinity. Out of love for the world, God sacrificed His Heavenly Son to the earth. Jesus, out of His Agape Love for the world gave His life. And then, together God and Jesus gave us, the people the Holy Spirit just as a Mother and Father give a child. If within a marriage there was enough sacrifice and AGAPE love (stemming from the Greek meaning unconditional, I would do anything for you, even die for you, love) for the other, if we loved the other person more than we love ourselves, marriages would work. I see it in so many marriages, a love from the husband that even at the middle of the night, if his wife is sick, will get out of bed, drive to the nearest 24/7 store (which are pretty hard to find....) and pick her up cold medicine, a hot/cold compress and then drive to the nearest McDonalds for a milkshake just to make her smile. After husband takes care of wife, he tucks her into bed and then goes upstairs to rock baby back to sleep. I've seen moments when wife cooks dinner for husband and baby after watching baby all day. When dinner is done and enjoyed, wife and husband do the dishes together while baby draws her newest art project on the wall. Sacrifice and AGAPE love means loving the other more than one loves him or herself. It means even though one is tired in the middle of the night, or tired after a long day of being Mom, you still sacrifice for your beloved. 

     Marriage is so simple and yet so complex. I am not married, I do not have a family, but I know that marriage and love involves three main concepts: respect for your significant other and yourself, willingness to fix, not discard, the broken and love beyond all sacrifice. In order to make a marriage work, one has to be willing to take the bullet, jump in front of that speeding train, love beyond all telling, modeled just after our Heavenly Father and Earthly brother. I see this in all the married couples I am blessed with in my life. I see the respect for self and others, the Mr./Mrs. Fix-It attitudes and the sacrificial love. It's there, it's possible to achieve, I know it is. You, yourself must believe it. 

or 

Easter Never Tasted So Good - Welcome Back, Jesus

"Well end your suffering, little man. Why don't you pack up your gear and clear outta here?" 

- West Side Story

     

    Welcome back, JC! Easter is always an amazing time for reflection and thus, I have so many thoughts for you to ponder. First things first: since I'm not a sister yet, I don't have a set outfit to wear everyday. And let's be honest, when I was younger, I absolutely despised shopping. But it became a bonding thing with my cousin and now I find it quite enjoyable. Especially when I find the perfect Easter dress (see below)! Since my cousin and are away at school, however, we can't go shopping together. So our compromise is that every time we have a new outfit, we have to post a picture on the other's facebook. Today, I did just that. Someone else intercepted the picture and helped me realize that I looked just like Maria from West Side Story, so that explains the quotation above. But really, let's think about it for a hot sec...no one told Jesus He had to leave the tomb except His Father. But if His Father was in West Side Story, He might have said something like that. Did you ever hear a Daddy call his son, little man? Often I refer to my little cousins as little man and little princess. So, it's like God the Father saying, "Ok little man, end your suffering. Get up and move out!" Now if God was like my Daddy, He would have gone into the tomb, tickled JC's feet and said, "Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey!!" Actually, I can easily imagine God saying to Jesus on Easter Morning, "Come on, Son. Get up. We've got things to do today. Let's go!" Imagine God like your Daddy...how would He wake you up on Easter morning?

      Second thing: I'm not sure if many of you reading this have the understanding of what YOLO means. Let me explain. It's a hot trend on twitter and it's an acronym just like LOL or BRB. YOLO means "You Only Live Once." It winds up at the end of a risky tweet in the form of a hashtag looking like #YOLO. So for example, I would tweet, "Pulling an all nighter before observations telling Ghost Stories #YOLO" or "Going exploring for Mary's Lake in galoshes #YOLO" and so on...so basically anything one would do because he or she only lives once. Make sense? Ok, good. So now, I was checking Twitter yesterday and someone tweeted "Jesus died for our sins #thanks #YOLO" but the truth is, it was inaccurate. Jesus, technically didn't "only live once" because He died and came back to life. I shook my head in laughter. This morning, I get a tweet on my phone thank says, "Welcome back, Jesus #thanks #YORO (You only rose once)" Now how's that for accuracy? 

     Third thing: When you went to church as a kid with your family, or even now with your family, did you only sit with your family in a pew? Now granted, if you're like my Dad's family, all of you took up a whole pew, so there was no room to share. But most of you had families like mine, five or six people. And most likely one or two of the kids were either in the choir or altar serving, so there was plenty of room to share a pew with. And if you're a Parish like mine, no one cares about awkwardly sitting with six different families over two pews, and most likely the kids sitting between you and your parents aren't related to you in any way AND your little sister is probably sitting on some other mom's lap because your mom is busy with the other little kids trying to find the song in the songbook AND your dad is holding hands with your best friends mom during the Our Father and it's ok. That more or less happened this morning at my Parish. At the beginning of Mass, my mom and dad were sitting next to me and then my little sister on my other side. Our middle sister was in the choir loft. Next to her was another choir kid's parents and next to them, some random Grandma everyone knew. Behind us were three more families with six other kids. By the Homily, one of the little girls behind us dropped her doll in our pew and I somehow had my seat moved twice. After Communion when all the seating gets rearranged, I was now at the total opposite of where I started out and there was now a little one behind me poking my stomach as I knelt because it was hilarious to see me flinch every time. As we were all awaiting the final song announcement, the two moms behind me who were now sitting next to each other were trying to send me signals about how school was going. Finally, we were singing the final hymn, dancing and clapping our hands like Jesus had just risen that morning...oh wait...He did. All seating arrangements aside, what I'm trying to say is this: Easter is a morning when people we don't necessarily see all the time, come to church (myself included...college girl problems...) and...sit in our seats. So, we smush together and we don't mind. You know that common phrase, "It takes a whole village to raise a child?" Well, consider my Parish family, my village. People I saw this morning commented on how much I've grown up, how wonderful it is to see me back and of course, they had plenty of hugs to give me and I to give them in return. For a quick second, I imagined myself coming back to my Parish as a sister, having the same thing happen, except, my Pew would probably be filled with even more families and little kids. If all the kids had their choice, they would probably all try to sit on my lap at once! I know a lot of people don't like feeling claustrophobic in church, but that's something my Parish family thrives on...we just LOVE to smush together in one pew all the time. 

    Final thought: Lent is over. This means, we can go back to those things we gave up. As many of you know, I gave up coffee (more or less the greatest cross I've carried during Lent). While I wasn't as anxious as I thought I was going to be to have my first cup of coffee in forty days, it was still so great to have that warm elixir of life drip down my throat. Mhmm...coffee. When I grabbed the first cup I found in the cupboard, I didn't realize what it said. When I sat down to start my blog, that's when I realized. It says, "I love you with all of my heart." My favorite prayer leaflet in my Liturgy of the Hours book says, "With all of my heart, with all of my heart, I love you." It was just a quiet little "Thank you" from Jesus for my sacrifice this Lent. That made the forty days all the more rewarding. Thanks Jesus. Thanks for dying, thanks for rising, and thanks for letting me know my sacrifice meant something to You, too. 

Happy Easter All!

If Jesus Was A Spider, I'd Be A Pig - Charlotte's Web Part One

"Wilbur: 'Charlotte, why are you doing all of this for me?'

Charlotte: 'Because you are my friend, Wilbur.'"

    As many of you know, I LOVE writing. I write poetry, short stories, letters and of course, newspaper articles. Not only have I written for The Nazareth and The Immaculatan, but also for the Daily Chronicle. Where's the Daily Chronicle, you ask? Well, it's in Beaverton, Oregon, the setting of Charlotte's Web. And yes, I have been the reporter for almost three months. I've witnessed no ordinary pig and a no ordinary spider. I've documented award ceremonies and miracles. I've met some pretty talented animals and some extremely prominent people who play an important part in the little pigs life. But I've also had the opportunity to interview the audience after every show, asking the kids their favorite parts, and telling them, while still in character, that I'm writing an article for the paper! 

    Ok so here's the truth: I ventured out of my hole and decided to get back into something I love so much: Theatre. I can't describe the feeling it gives me. It's a mix between adrenaline, excitement, energy, and peace. Being on the warm stage gives me a true sense of who I am. I can stand on the stage and not feel self-conscious and feel so free. I could dance and dance and dance and sing and sing and sing forever. I actually feel one hundred percent happy and on top of the world. For a little while there is nothing to worry about but the stage and stage movements. But the best part about this show is that it's Children's Theatre, so we get to play the audience full of little kids. In addition to playing a reporter, I also play a narrator and one of Charlotte's young baby spiders. I love telling the story to the kids and putting on different hats (literally) and voices. I love seeing the kids faces light up and watching them move all over their seats as the plot thickens. But most of all, I love talking to the after the show. 

     It was in "interviewing" the girls from our little sister school that I had an idea. Actually, I had "interviewed" their music nun, who I also happen to work for. She said, "My favorite part was when Charlotte sacrificed her life for Wilbur, just like Jesus did for us." Well, yes, my dear sister, that was my first thought. The more I got acquainted with the character of Wilbur, I disliked him. He is selfish, stubborn and sometimes rude to Charlotte. The more I disliked Wilbur, the more I began to recognize these traits in myself when I'm with God. It is so true that just like Charlotte gave her life for Wilbur, Jesus gave His life for us. And how many times do we take for granted His sacrifice. He could have easily told us no, that He wouldn't save us. But like Charlotte, He said, "Don't worry, I will save you. Somehow. I will." While He didn't hang from a web, He did hang from the Cross, in order to save our bacon... Oh, and just like Charlotte was incredibly beautiful, Jesus is pretty handsome Himself. 

    Yes, Jesus is the Charlotte to my Wilbur, the Spider to my pig. 

Do You Need A Heart Transplant? Get One This Lent!

      "Are you ready for Lent?" she asked me. "YES! I can't wait! I love LENT!" I answered overenthusiastically. Poor Sister almost had a heart attack when I said that. She stopped mid-step and thought about what I had just said for a few seconds. "Well, I guess that's a good thing. Good practice." 

      I realized that the more I said I loved Lent, the more crazy looks I received and the more explaining I had to do. Is it such a bad thing to be so in love with Lent? Hmm... So, to clear it up. I am not one of those crazy people who still believe in self-mutilation as the best form of penance or a lover of sacrificing just for fun. In fact, my Lenten fast this year is coffee....it's KILLING ME! But rather I love Lent because it is the epitome of God's love for us. We journey through Lent aware that the end result is the Last Supper, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection...however depressing, ending in the happiest of happy endings!

     So, here's my story: Maybe I've mentioned my Grandfather before. He was my best friend for the first four years of my life until he passed away. I never got to know him spiritually until many years later. One of the ways I was able to do this was by stealing (ahem...borrowing) my daddy's copy of The Diary of St. Faustina. I found it on his bookshelf with all his spiritual books and since he wasn't reading it, I took it. I have yet to finish it, but I am in the process. Anyway, when I opened the book, between two pages fell a prayer leaflet (extremely old and beat) with the Novena to the Sacred Heart on the back and the below image on the front. Under the image it said, "With all my heart, with all my heart, I love you." I later added "I desire you" under the words. The image so struck me that immediately I started crying. I had never seen the Sacred Heart handing over His heart. Week later, after I had taken the prayer leaflet and put it in my Liturgy of the Hours book, my dad realized I had stolen his book. He asked for it back, but I told him I wasn't done yet. He said, "As soon as you are done with it, I want it back. It was your grandfather's copy." So, I guess the prayer leaflet was his, too. But I'm keeping it!!

     The image is a beautiful one to reflect with during lent. On Ash Wednesday we hear, "Rend your hearts not your garments." Jesus is handing over His heart for us. But, as we all know, a human being cannot survive without a heart. So, Jesus needs a heart is return. He wants yours! He wants your heart, however broken, shattered, torn, hurt. He wants to take all your pain away and give you a new heart. We also hear, "I will break your hearts of stone, and give you new hearts." Well, here is your new heart: the very heart of Jesus. You are so loved by Jesus, that He is willing to give you His ever perfect heart in exchange for your beat up heart. And yes, with all of His heart, with ALL of HIS HEART, He loves you; He desires you. 

     This Lent, truly rend your hearts to Jesus so you can get a new one. Render back what belongs to Him, your heart. Jesus loves you so much that He gave you a heart transplant. A HEART TRANSPLANT!! And then He died for you. That's true chivalry, true love if I ever saw it. Yes, He loves you, and this is why I love Lent. It's just so romantic. I gave Jesus my broken heart; will you give Him yours?

Sisterly Sacrifice...Nun-Tastic Day 2

     When you ask certain people what their meaning of sacrifice is, you will most likely get mixed answers. For some, sacrifice is merely giving up mustard on their sandwich so that someone else can have the last squeeze, but for others it's giving up half a sandwich for the other homeless guy sitting next to him. The same goes for when you pose a certain question to people asking them if it's a sacrifice. Like if you ask a normal college student who is on Christmas break if getting up at 6 am is a sacrifice, they will most likely say YES and don't do wake me up til after 12. But for me, I really don't think twice about it. Now see, right now, most of you reading are thinking I'm talking about getting up early for Mass. Well, wrong. Usually, at home, going to daily Mass means sleeping in til 8:45. So WHY was I up at 6 am? To begin the saga of the missing school shoe. That's right, I was looking for my little sister's school shoe. LOOOOOOOOOONG story short: on her last day of school before break, she got changed in the car and left her shoes there. They didn't leave the car until I decided to clean it out. However, in cleaning the car out only one shoe made it in the house. And so, this morning, at the crack of dawn (literally), I was on my hands and knees, scouring the car for the lost shoe. And when I finally found it, I placed it with my sister's uniform and said nothing about it. My sister said nothing about it, either. And yet, while some might get really upset at the fact that their sister even woke them up, much less have to LOOK for the shoe and THEN, to get no thanks in return? Psh, the nerve. But really, that whole fiasco was something that, as the oldest, I was supposed to do. And in my family, especially, many might call the numerous things I do, sacrifices. But for me, that's daily life. And it's not a sacrifice at all. So, after the saga took place, I got to thinking (in the hour that I still had before actually having to do anything), what do I consider sacrifices? And today's nun-tastic adventure has plenty of examples.
     First things first. After Mass, I headed straight to a volunteer job I randomly picked up at the request of a friend. The volunteer job seemed easy enough; taking inventory in the book store. It seemed that way until I got there. First, it didn't look like a convent at all. Then I came to learn that the book store got sold because the community couldn't afford it anymore so it was now in their garage. THEN, I came to learn that their little tiny teeny chapel is in their basement. As I learned, I took it all in and thought about the sacrifices these sisters made. Finally, we headed to take inventory...in the garage. I might add that today was the coldest day this winter so far and the garage is outside. Luckily, the sisters have been blessed with semi warm winter weather (alliteration!!) but today and tomorrow, when the one able-bodied sister solely will be working on the inventory are the coldest. NOW THAT, my dear, is sacrifice. Braving the frigid, winter, air just to count so that the community can have an income. Sacrifice.
    Secondly, I headed to one of my favorite shrines inbetween nun hopping today: Katharine Drexel. She was my first saint influence and visiting her shrine always, always makes me feel secure in my vocation. I love to look into the display case of her habit, the real one she wore, and find myself in it. We were the same five foot, you know. I look at her shoes and see my feet in them and then I see her ring, the same size as my finger. So many imagine her as tall and strong and mighty, but I know, she was petite, and humble, and gentle. She made so many sacrifices for her sisters, especially for her own personal self. The shoes she wore, she hand sewed every time the leather teared. They were her only pair of shoes her whole convent life. And her pencils; used to the very stub. She is my perfect sacrificing model.
     Thirdly, I went back to visit my High School nuns who just continually sacrifice their time for me. I'm telling you that those sisters are the busiest people I've met and yet, they barely stress out and always give me the time of day. Tonight was yet another saga of finding my nun in the school, actually my nun to sit down, planning a trip to the pet store, actually finding the pet store, buying a fish tank heater, installing said fish tank heater, learning how to hang bird feeders in trees from windows with a stick (oi), planning crayon melting art days with my AE, dropping office book insides all over Chapel, eating supper, watching the news, reading People magazine, complaining about school AND finally walking to the car in the FRIGID AIR. Yep, this woman made an awful amount of sacrifices for me today. And that's how I know I'm family. By sacrifice.
     I mean, I "sacrifice" for my sister at 6 am, the sister from the book store sacrificed for her sisters, Katharine Drexel sacrificed for her sisters, and my nun, sacrificed for me, her sister. I guess that's the common theme of the day: Sisterly Sacrifice.