In The Arms of Angels - Camden, Alternate Spring Break 2013

"Let us open wide our hearts. It is joy which invites us.

Press forward and fear nothing."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     "What are you doing for Spring Break?" It was the question on everyone's lips. Some were traveling to NOLA, my favorite city in the world. Others were traveling to Chicago, my home away from home. Still others were headed home to their respective cities and towns. Me? Well, I was more than excited to be headed to Camden, New Jersey for the weekend. 

     Imagine my parents' reactions when I neglected to tell them exactly where I was going on Alternate Spring Break until I was already settled in with my six other lovely lady peers, Father Chris and Sister Cathy. I simply just texted my Daddy a picture of the quotation from Katharine Drexel that was on my bedroom wall in Camden. Needless to say, he didn't respond via text message but rather by phone call. What are you doing there? Are you staying? Who are you with? Are you asking for a death wish? Are you serious? Camden of all places? What are you thinking? Yes...my Dad had a little bit of a freak out session. "Relax, Dad," I told him, "we haven't heard any gun shots yet." That didn't help much...obviously. But I reassured him that I would be fine and God was watching over me. If I was meant to be scared, I would have freaked out already. And I didn't. 

      Camden is rated the 1st poorest city in the United States. Not only is it poor but it has the highest crime rate per capita in the US, this includes murder and homicides. Almost half of the city is dependent on drugs. Surprisingly enough an elementary student can make up to $200 a week just by being a drug outlook for dealers. This being said, the drop-out rate for high schoolers is 60-70%. Oh and the average income for a family of four? $18,000. Get this....the entire NINE-SQUARE MILE city of Camden has 80,000 people "living" in it. I say "living" because do you really think sleeping on the street in a wet sleeping bag every night is living? 

     So, needless to say, my Dad had a right reason to be worried about me in a city like Camden. Camden is a city for me that I can see right across the river when I'm home. And while I was in Camden, the skyline of Philly was looming over us as a constant reminder that this is the Calcutta of the United States. However, there wasn't a single second I felt fearful of this city, I had long ago learned to love. 

     They had asked us at the beginning if anyone in our group had been in Camden before, aside from being there for a concert or a visit to the aquarium. Two of us. I spent one day during my summer three years ago gardening with a group of my CREW girls. I saw that Garden this weekend; it still looked good. I spent another day during my summer two years ago painting over graffiti. I saw those murals this weekend...and I painted the same exact spot on the same exact wall I did two years ago. Our murals are still there though. I remember the first time I walked through Camden. I thought to myself, this is what hell looks like. So many imagine hell as place of fire and heat. But Camden, oh no..that's what hell looks like: broken houses, so much poverty it makes you sick, the smell of trash for miles, children running around with no clothes on because no one loves them, and needle after needle after needle, the used-to-be source of drug lovin'. Oh and the skin and bones of people who haven't eaten anything nutritious perhaps their whole lives. There's no love, no hope, no sunshine. That's hell. 

      Yet, it's a hell that didn't scare me. I felt like Orpheus. If I could go into that hell and pull just one person out of it, if I could make someone my Eurydice, I would. That's what keeps me going back. (The story of Opheus and Eurydice is simple. E dies and goes to the underworld. O goes down and pulls her out, saving her and bringing her back to life.) Like I said before, I was excited to be going back to the streets of Camden. I was excited to be meeting people, or as I call them, "New Friends." I was excited to open a window to a world that most people don't know about. 

      We arrived after sundown and as we unpacked our car, a group of young men walked by. My friends were standing on the front porch as I stood in the middle of the street waiting for father to turn around the school van. We didn't want anyone taking the perfect parking spot. When I turned around, I saw the young men and joyfully waved and said hello. I could see the eyes of my friends bug out of their faces. What? I shrugged. It seemed so late, but the night was still young. After a first night of making spaghetti for dinner, a few of us headed to the Joseph's House. 

       Joseph's House is a unique and humbling place. Located in an old Lutheran Church, volunteers set up and cook dinner for about forty regular homeless people. These people come with all they have and set up camp on the floor of the church. It is literally exactly how the would sleep outside but with heat, a warm meal and the opportunity for showers. The first night there, there were a plethora of volunteers already there and so we went home, a bit saddened that we couldn't do much to help. We went back to the place we called home for four days and watched one of the most heart-wrenching documentaries on the children of Camden. As someone who wants to be a teacher, I can tell you it hit so very close to home. 

      The next morning, we were up and at 'em, ready to help out at the Holy Name Confirmation Retreat. But first we got to make fruit salad for the Joseph's House with the Freshmen Students from the Cristo Rey High School in Philadelphia (I was so totally hype because teaching there would be a dream come true....). I made some new (and crazy) friends among the students and easily assumed the role of their older sister. When they were leaving, I was blessed with numerous hugs from all of them. With the Confirmation retreatants, we put on Gospel skits which was a feat for sure. There for four boys and one girl in our group...thankfully, we were blessed with the Gospel of the Prodigal Son. We then had to have a slightly silent Puerto Rican lunch since we were sharing our space with another group. It was soooooo hard! After making so many new friends, it was super hard to keep quiet with these overly-eager beavers. I love them all so much!

       Once the retreat was over, we were blessed to hear the real story of Kenny, a homeless man who lives in Camden. He truly invoked so much conversation and gave us so much insight. He gave us a chance to truly express our feelings for the homeless and what we wanted to bring back to our homes. It was such a beautiful chance for us to share as a group, as individuals and as ourselves. I saw the hearts of so many so open and willing to go the extra mile for people. It was so beautiful!

      That night we had homemade dinner take two. The first night Lindsey and I cooked dinner and very casually Sister Cathy asked if we would let anyone else cook during the weekend. Well, the next night there she was all precious in her apron cooking crayon chicken nuggets, mac and cheese and broccoli with the two of us, while setting the others to fruit salad making and whatnot. We young ladies had a nice lesson in Convent Etiquette 101, lesson: how to peel an orange. Sister Cathy is a trooper for putting up with all the young lady sass this weekend....it didn't end there. 

      After our meal, a few of us headed out again to Joseph's House. That night, I met my friend Archie who looks like an African American Santa Claus and his friend, "Santa." These men shocked and surprised me with their wit, their playful bantering back and forth and extreme knowledge. These men shared their dreams with me and asked me about my dreams. I went to bed that night feeling so overly blessed for gaining two more grandfathers here on earth. 

     The next morning, we were once again up and at 'em ready to help out with CCD classes before going to a Spanish Mass. The truth is, I love kids so much, which is why I have always wanted to be an educator. My dreams as an educator include, but are not limited to, making sure my students know they are loved, knowing that I care about their dreams and their lives, and being able to communicate that to them. The hardest obstacle was communicating with those students that morning. I was silenced literally because most of the students did not speak English and I did not speak Spanish. I tried, but I failed admittedly. I couldn't do it and from that I learned that I need to try my hardest to become bi-lingual. Especially if I want to fulfill my dream of teaching inner city kids. I prayed for all those CCD kids at Mass and I prayed that God would give me the strength to learn another language...soon. Mass, of course, was beautiful. I was blessed enough to sit next to Sister who just happens to be fluent in Spanish and has a beautiful voice. Yes, it truly was a blessing.

     After Mass, we quickly changed into painting gear and headed to North Camden to paint those same exact walls I had painted before. I was literally painting the same exact block of wall I had painted before. It was like a time-travel and it was awesome. Of course, we had to paint with the wind off the waterfront at our backs. It only gave us a more solid understanding of what the homeless had to deal with every day. They never get the chance to go inside a warm home or a warm car. They are outside all the long day, in the cold, with much less than we all had on. I felt the sting of homelessness right there in my heart. I'm not sure what the others got from our experience in the cold, but that was the truth resonating in my heart. Later that night, after cooking again with the whole IU family, we headed out to Joseph's House for a last night with the homeless. When we were leaving, "Santa" and Archie broke my heart by asking if I would be back there again the next night. Oh how I wanted to be there. 

     Monday, our last day consisted of sandwich ministry and recess with the kids. When I woke up this morning, I was so sore. I didn't understand why until I remembered I lifted 10 pound bags and chased kids for an hour. In the sandwich ministry we literally fed some many homeless people sandwiches and made up bags of canned goods for them. What a sight to behold to see a line of people waiting for their first meal in what may have been a long time. At school we ate with the same kids and the peers of the kids we helped on Saturday at retreat. These children are super precious. We played tag for an hour and I've literally never been that out of breath. However, chasing those kids around in tag was the best. I miss that being at school, I miss being able to go over to the grade school and be lunch mom. It was so hard for me to leave those kids.

      As we rode home that day, I couldn't stop reflecting on those kids and their smiles, their beautiful innocent smiles. I love them all so much. I wanted nothing more than to preserve their innocence and let them keep it forever. But I know that in a city like Camden, they would lose that innocence most likely before they even left grade school. My heart ached and broke for them. I will forever remember their smiles and their hugs and innocence. But they aren't the only ones. I found myself in the arms of angels this weekend. Angels whose faces were those who greeted the homeless, angels whose faces were the poor and homeless, angels whose faces were children, angels whose faces were people just needing love. In each hug, I felt myself truly in the arms of angels and I can only hope they each left my presence feeling the same; in the safe haven of an angel's arms. 

Fruit Salad...yummy, yummy

Enough said

Painting the walls.....

Painting Sister....

Sandwich Ministry Time

My Cristo Rey lovebugs <3

Why I Still Believe - Working Under Cover for the Big Guy

"A hug is the best gift - one size fits all and no one cares if you exchange it."

- Irvin Ball

Jingles, Santa and Frankie the Reindog

     At twenty years old, yes, I still believe in Santa Claus. Let that sit in for a second. Some of you are now confirming the fact that you believed I am so innocent, while others are gasping, thinking "how can she be so innocent." Let's be honest, folks, I've seen a lot of turmoil in this world. And that is why I still believe in Santa Claus.

     My little sister is eight and a half, and she's seen above dressed as an elf, with me, dressed as Santa. Did she know it was me? Of course. She watched me get dressed. She knows we own a Santa Suit. But the magic was still there. I'll let you in on a little secret of mine. A few years ago, Santa was looking for some help. So, I hooked him up and gave him my number. Now, I'm on speed-dial. That's right folks, I work under cover for the big boy. He called my cell phone late Sunday night, right before I was going to bed. The week before Christmas for Santa is like finals week for college kids. That means...he will literally call at any moment because he has no awareness of how late it is. He also doesn't sleep. Anyway, he called me and begged me for some help. He needed four little elves to go visit a family in West Philadelphia the next day. Well, we were short an elf, so I asked Santa if it would be ok if I told Lizzie our secret. This is what he told me: "I think she's old enough to understand that some families, I can't get to. Their neighborhoods are too dangerous for the reindeer or some families don't have real homes that I can leave presents in. I think she'll understand that sometimes Santa needs to send in back-up. Yes, you can let her know you've been working for me for a few years now. And just as a reminder that I do exist, I'll stop by later tonight when she's asleep." 

     The next morning, I was partly dressed as Santa and painting my cheeks rosy red when Lizzie walked into the bathroom. I asked her and right away she said yes. In fact, she ran upstairs and grabbed her fancy elf costume (I'm serious...we have those laying around. We're a theater family...) and put it on. I was so proud! I finished dressing as Santa to the point where the beard and hair were safely bobby-pinned to my real hair. We were ready. As we drove through the cities to get to pick up another elf and get to Nazareth, people were honking and waving and laughing and smiling. Wow, the Christmas Joy was upon us, I thought. Then I remembered I was dressed as Santa. So, of course, I played it up! We started waving and honking and yes, giving out candy canes! One man told me I was crazy and yet, because of me being crazy, he now had Christmas joy. Our job wasn't over yet, however.

     With one more elf in the back seat, and a sleigh full of toys, we drove down in the depths of the city to a little neighborhood called West Philadelphia (...born and raised.) We parked the car, pulled all the toys out and walked to the house. People in the neighborhood were shocked silly to see a literal Santa and her/his elves. When we rang to doorbell, Mom answered and the oldest son, but the little ones were out at the store. So, we set the toys and candy up, and snuck out of the house. Santa had come. I could only imagine the joy that would be on their faces when they got home. How could it have happened? I imagined the 13 year old saying. If Mom has barely enough money to pay for the apartment, how could this have happened? Santa must be real after all. And this, my friends, is why I still believe in Santa. Not only because he calls me every year and asks for my help, but because the Santa I believe in, is a symbol of hope. I saw more toothless smiles yesterday driving back through Kensington than I had ever seen in my life, but they were smiles. And you know why they were smiling, because Santa, who is an instrument of God, smiled first. 

      My belief in Santa is a little deeper than that so don't worry. You see, even though I work under cover for the big guy, the big guy actually works under cover for God, who is the real reaso for the seaso. After a long day of working as Santa's helper, I changed my outfit from red to green and drove to Mass in a whirlwind of white snow. I literally felt so beautiful! You see, snow is always a sign that I am exactly where I am meant to be. The very first time I told anyone (Sister David) I was thinking about religious life, it snowed. From that moment on, snow had a special meaning. In the car, I called my dear Sister Bernice way, way up in Connecticut to wish her a Merry Christmas Eve, before heading into Mass. Since I've been unofficially diagnosed with Nerve Damage in my knee, I haven't been able to kneel (as per nurse's request) and yet, I couldn't help it. I knelt. I know, all the nurses are going to be yelling at me, but I had to, my little baby was there in the manger and I needed to kneel. As I looked up to the ceiling of St. Christopher's Church in prayer, I noticed how much it looked like a stable roof. How perfect.

      Not before long, four of my Nazareth Sisters walked in, sitting a few pews ahead of me. I snuck into the pew and surprised them all. There were two sisters in front of me and one on each side of me. While we all sat in prayer, two of our other sisters sat down behind us. So there I was, surrounded, literally, by my sisters. Of course, with my sisters who know me so well (and I know them so well), there were moments during Mass where I just had to giggle. I know at some points, we each had tears in our eyes, too. 

      You see, my AE was so happy to be in a place she called home for so long. In a few days, she'll be moving to Chicago for at least the next six years. I haven't let myself get upset about it yet, but I am. I'm going to miss her so much. Of course, Sister Evey was tapping her foot and swaying to every beat of the music, singing her heart out, just like a little child. She is the essence of childlike spirit for me. Then there was Sister Teri on my left, who shared her missalette with me but couldn't see the words. That's alright, I couldn't either. Of course, when I laughed, she elbowed me like a perfect big sister. On my right side was Sister Mary Annette who sung in perfect harmony with that. I love that about her. She's harmonious with everything, but especially God. Her soul is beautiful. Behind me was Sister Mary Joan, that's right my high school principal. I am so blessed to be able to call her my sister these days, because she truly looks after me like a big sister should. And finally, Sister Daniela, my matka (which means mother in Polish). She is the superior (the mother) of St. Katherine's Convent and since I'm there so much when I'm home, it's like I live there, she has become my mother, too. But why matka? She's Polish. Like from Poland, Polish. She is someone I miss so very, very much when I am away from home. We quietly share a connection of souls. 

     As I knelt (my knee was screaming...I didn't care), I realized how much in the last few weeks that I had needed a hug, and so my Christmas miracle was having a Mass long, group hug from my Sisters. At the end of Mass, one sister was pulling me into a hug, while another was holding my hand. I got all the hugs and kisses the youngest little sister usually gets and more. For the first time in a while, I was aware of God's love for me. I was so aware of His love, I was brought to tears. Yes, the love was so present. This is why I still believe. 

      The night was far from over after my first Christmas Mass. At midnight, Mary, my Daddy and I headed to Midnight Mass after a Christmas Eve dinner with some family friends. It is my most favorite Mass of all times (Good Friday is my favorite liturgical day, but there's no Mass...). There is what some people call magic, but what I call miracles. As I listened to the Homily, Father Mike had such a beautiful view point. Jesus became a messy human. Being a human is so messy because we love, but we cannot love perfectly. If we could love perfectly, it would be perfectly mutual. However, most of us love and love and love and love without that love being mutual. I thought immediately back to my circle of Sisters. That love was mutual. So mutual. I felt a sense of belonging and home with them. I thought back even further to being Santa's elves. I loved that family probably more than they could ever love me. I thought to the smiles I received in response to the love I was giving to the hopeless (and sometimes toothless) people of Kensington and West Philadelphia. I love them more than they knew! This is why I still believe.

       And so, the Santa I believe in, isn't exactly the guy who climbs down chimneys, but rather a symbol of hope. Working for him under cover is the best. But I know, in truth, we both work for the even bigger Guy and I can't thank my Father enough for blessing me with such beautiful sisters and smiles and family. I got to admit, working under cover for the Big Guy is awesome!

Letters to Santa Claus

     My current Facebook status: "I solemnly swear I am up to no good in Biology class...watching cats on Youtube and blogging." I would be lying if I said I was doing our assignment. Truthfully, I should be looking up energy information and animal species for Niger for my final project. But what I'm really doing is ... ok diversion, I actually went back to working on my project because I knew I wouldn't have time to do it at any other time. So now, after class, here I am finishing my blog post for the day.

     My observation group and I, let's just say we're close. We're so close that we go to every extreme to take awkward observation group photos with Santa to give to our favorite nun on campus, who we have deemed the Sister Snowflake 2011. Honestly, I love my observation group so much. We like to joke around and say that one day they'll start a sitcom about us. Something along the lines of "Always Sunny In Philadelphia" but instead call it, "It's Always Rainy on Thursdays," because it rains every single Thursday we are out on observations for education! Yeah, we're a bit crazy, but these people are some of my closest friends.

     When we went to visit Santa, he wasn't as confused as we expected him to be. Actually, after we took the picture, he chatted with us for a good twenty minutes encouraging us to come back every year to get a picture with him to create a memory book of who we are friends with and where we are in our lives. We were talking about our futures with Santa and told him how we will all be teachers. Jokingly my friend said that they would have to fly me in from Haiti so I could be in the picture with my habit. I told him, I'll probably actually be in the city teaching in my school that I established OR in Ghana. But I don't want to jinx anything like Sr. Luke did in A Nun's Story. Santa told us that these are the memories we will remember the most; not stressing out over tests and exams but going out just to get a picture and grab some lunch. And he's right. These are the people who promise that they will come pick me up from whichever convent I wind up in to take me out for lunch and a Santa picture. There was talk the other day about seeing the Easter Bunny, too. But I think that might be pushing it! Oh, such is the life of a college student discerning to be a religious sister!