Dare to Love and Be Loved

"Dare to be strong and courageous. 

That is the road. Venture anything.

Be brave enough to dare to be loved."

- Sherwood Anderson, "Winesburg, OH"

Shouldn't I be a hand model?

     Driving to work long before the sun was up, the readings of the day were the farthest thing from my thoughts. I was sipping my piping hot coffee from my new travel mug and worrying about whether or not I would have enough dollar bills in the cup holder for the toll. Being the prepared woman I am, of course I had enough toll money set out. Once past through the toll booth, I began thinking about all the preparations I needed to make for today's Communion Service at school. It was only going to be the third one, but I was feeling pretty confident that everything would go smoothly. When I got to school, I opened my iBreviary app and quickly glanced at the readings. Today? The very well known reading from Corinthians "Love is patient...etc. etc. etc." I quickly thought, oh good, easy, and then didn't give it a second thought. 

     If you're a typical young woman between the ages of 14-25, you might be slightly obsessed with Nicholas Sparks' "A Walk to Remember." I remember watching it for the first time in high school and then quite possibly almost damaging the DVD I borrowed from the library due to over watching the movie. I remember sobbing every time I heard Mandy Moore sing, beg Shane West not to fall in love with her, and walk down the aisle. I loved the movie and every so often, when I need a good cry, I admittedly pull out the movie and watch it alone in my bedroom so I can sob into the pillow again. Of course, the movie was also far from my mind as I drove into work this morning, but the moment the student reading at the Communion Service began to read from St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians, I could hear Shane West's voice in my head reading the same passage to Mandy Moore as she lay sick in the hospital. Suddenly, I was equating Scripture to Nicholas Sparks...again. However childish it may have seemed at the moment, suddenly my view on this verse started to change.

     Shortly after our Communion Service, the bell rang signaling the beginning of the school day. I walked out to the hallway to hear the announcements and say prayers with the community. As part of the morning reflection, I heard the announcer say, "Love isn't easy." That's when I had my AHHHHH moment. How many times have I reflected on love and not given Corinthians a thought? How many times have I heard Corinthians read and not given the hardships of love a thought? How many times have I missed the boat on realized what St. Paul was really trying to say? Oh so many times. 

     St. Paul tells us that love is patient, love is kind, love does not boast. We have all heard it a million times. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and ENDURES all things. I have reflected many times on how I've loved, because at the end of earthen life, we shall be judged on how much we have loved. I often ask myself, did I love enough in that situation? or what could I have done to love more? Many people say that I love everyone, I love life passionately and through my gentleness, I show so much love for people and God. Yet often, I say I can love more. I know I can, because God can love limitlessly. If He can do that, and if we are meant to love like Him, why do I put limits on my love? Why do I, when I'm already dressed for bed, say I can no longer help my sister with her homework? Why do I, when I'm running late for school, say I can not stop and turn the coffee machine on, when it would only take thirty seconds? Why do I, when I'm in the middle of typing something at school, not immediately turn around when a student enters the office? Why do I not love more? Why do I, when things get rough, decide to run from love, instead of run toward it? St. Paul tells us that it is during the rough times that love is needed most. When things are fine and dandy, love is easy. When things are rough, love is difficult. We run toward easy and away from difficult. It's part of being human. Yet, we must love more. 

      There is a flip side to loving, however, and that is being loved. Loving, most days, comes easy for me. Although I do wonder if there are ways I can love more, love through pain, love through hurt, love through difficulty, I know that when compared to being loved, loving is easier. Yesterday, I found the above quoted quotation. Our principal started the year off by telling all the students and parents that we each needed only 20 seconds of insane courage to do something great. I started to joke that I had heard the speech a few times and that I now had more than 20 seconds of insane courage...I had about a minute and a half. All joking aside, however, the word courage has been my anthem lately and when I saw the quotation, I knew it was one that would stick with me. "Dare to be courageous...be brave enough to dare to be loved." That was my message. It was reminded that I can only love as much as I am loved. The tank of love can only be emptied with it is filled. I thought of that this morning when I heard, "love endures all things."

       I began to think of a very close friend of mine who for the duration of this blog will be referred to as "the other JC." Many have heard me call Jesus, JC. He is "the other JC;" my Jesus in action. I have long believed myself to be tough, not soft. I have long believed that because of my life's experiences that I have grown to be so tough that I would not need anyone to break down my walls. For a very long time, loving and being loved was controlled by my terms. I could love as much as I wanted and accept love as much as I wanted, but as far I was concerned, I didn't need much being loved. If no one liked me, I would survive. God was the only one I needed to love me. Needless to say, I was wrong. 

       As human beings, we were made to love AND TO BE LOVED. I have often said this, but I have never wrote about my journey to reaching this realization. I am one of many "toughies." We are the group that if anyone shows affection or care, we stray away from it. We are haunted by the thoughts, I don't need to be loved by others, I don't deserve to be loved by others, why would anyone love me, anyway? Chances are each of us, at one point in life, have had these thoughts. If you're like me, you essentially built up a wall that said, "I do not need being loved because I am not courageous enough to dare to be loved." For a very long time, I believed all of these things. Yes, believe it or not, I wore a huge "tough girl" shield over my heart. That was until "the other JC" and a few others stepped into my life. 

      What "the other JC" did for me was take a wrecking ball (not in the style of Miley Cyrus) to that wall I had built around my heart. He started by the little compliments that would make any woman swoon: You're beautiful...in your pjs, without makeup, on your worst day, on your best day, in that dress, with your hair all done up. However, I was one who did not believe this about myself and so I scoffed at him. I truly thought he was only saying these things to get my attention. Well sisters, he was not getting it. But he continued. Every so often, I'd find a morning note on my windshield just saying hi, or a note under my door when I got home from student teaching. When I was upset, he would remind me that he was there if I needed, but allowed me to come to the need to be loved on my own terms. He didn't take the wrecking ball to my wall right away, but instead started chipping away at my wall piece by piece. 

       The year went on and slowly but surely, things got rougher for me. I didn't want him to love me. I didn't want anyone to love me. I didn't need it. I was tough enough without it. My fighting his love was actually a fight against myself...I was fighting to very human desire to be loved by another person. I was fighting the very human need for another to care about me. For so long I believed that I was tough enough to love and be loved on my own terms. However, I soon realized that there was a greater force in this experience. It was a reminder from God that I indeed needed to be loved. 

      "The other JC" put the love that St. Paul speaks about into action. He was patient with me, he was kind. He wasn't in it for his own interests, he only wanted the best for me. He never believed that loving me was going to end badly for him, loving me could only yield good. He endured everything I went through with me; he held onto hope. He was a living example of what I needed to do with my own life. I needed to maybe be a bit more kind and patient with those around me. I needed to look out for others and not myself. But mostly, I needed to love by enduring all things. I needed to take a look at how I was loving others and not give up on them; I needed to hold onto hope. "The other JC" has taught me an awful love about the love of Christ; he is so good for me. He is a daily reminded that I have been made to love and be loved. 

      Sometimes I look at the people I love so dearly and see my personality of being too tough to need to be loved. I want to say so strongly, "Just let me love you. Just let down your guard and let me love you like Christ loves. Let me help you carry the burdens of life." But sometimes I give up when they are tougher than I am...or seemingly so. I need to remember what "the other JC" teaches me: love endures all things. I have been courageous enough to love within my own limits. Now that I have dared to be loved, I need to be courageous enough to love even more. I need to be brave enough, patient enough, kind enough to love beyond all measures. Love isn't easy. It's not what the fairy tales convince us it is. Love is difficult, it is enduring, it is persisting through the toughest times, plowing through the toughest walls. Love is tears and smiles, hardships and bliss. Love is saying, "I love you enough to continue loving you even though you think you don't need it, don't deserve it, don't believe in it's possibility." Love is saying to every excuse another may come up with, "I love you more than that." Do you know how difficult that is?

     It took me a while; there were lots of growing pains. Maybe it was those 90 seconds of insane courage I collected over the course of the first week of school? Maybe it was the sudden reminder of my favorite hopelessly romantic movie of my teenage years? But probably it was the example of "Love in Action" given to me by "the other JC." It was as if we had entered a game of truth or dare and given that I'm a tough girl, I chose dare. But "the other JC" didn't dare me to go swimming in a pool with all my clothes on or filled with ice so as to dramatically drop the temperature. Oh no, his dare was much worse. He had dared me to love and be loved. And now, it's my turn to dare you. 

   

My "Nun-Alcoholic" 21st Birthday - A True Story

"Well, old girl, you look good. 

But, you should probably invest in some anti-aging cream.

From all your laughter, you're definitely going to go wrinkly."

- Sr. Rose Caritas

     "These are your last few hours before you're no longer twenty," Sister Rose said to me.

     "Thanks for the reminder, Seeeeeester."

     "You should probably live it up," Sister Cathy yelled after me as I walked away from Wednesday night's fire pit carrying a box of s'mores supplies. 

      I rolled my eyes as I almost tripped up the stairs inside. I reshelved the box of s'mores and headed up to my temporary home on the third floor. The floor was damp and the room was dark because I forgot to leave the single lamp lit so I wouldn't trip over my shoes. My room was slightly in order, as it usually goes when you're only staying in a place for a few days. At least my bed was made. The windows were wide open, something I had done the previous night, and I could hear the subtle roar of the ocean and the crash of the waves upon the shore. The sea-salt air was the only fragrance I could smell. Well, that and the clothes I had gone swimming in a few hours previous. Despite the anxiety of what was to come the next day, I felt a peace in my heart that only the ocean and nuns could bring me. I felt as if I was experiencing a small piece of Heaven. 

      The sound of my SEARCH Retreat theme song woke me from my sleep at 5:05 the next morning. Rolling over, I hit the snooze button twice and then finally, rolled out of bed. I shuffled down the hallway that could easily be mistaken for the inside of a immigrant ship from the early 1900s. I tip-toed down the creaky staircase in my socks while carrying my shoes and Christian Prayer book. Although no one was actually around, I was trying to be as quiet as possible walking up the pathway to the beach. Suddenly, I smelt a distant skunk spray which I quickly realized wasn't so distant when I saw him with his tail in the air. Needless to say, I ran. 

      "Wouldn't that be a birthday to remember," I said and laughed out loud; it was just me and Jesus out this early.

      The sunrise was covered by some clouds so it wasn't anything spectacular. I found myself thanking God that I made it to another year. For almost an hour, I snuggled with the salt air and the sand. I listened to the sound of the ocean and knew that today would just absolutely be a most beautiful day. 

      A few hours later, our large group of thirty students and nuns galore gathered in the dining room for another beautifully prepared meal before heading to work. I was chatting with my friends at one corner of the table when suddenly, Sister Cathy began directing a thirty second symphony of "Happy Birthday." That song has to literally be the most awkward, most intimidating and most anxiety-providing song in history; I hate it. There's nothing I dread more in the world than being sung that song. But at least it was over now. 

      The day continued like the others had been before for the exception of the occasional birthday greeting and hug from one of my IHM Sisters or friends. Yes, on my birthday I spent half of my day cleaning and scrubbing bedrooms in the Sisters' Summer Retreat house on the beach. I wouldn't have had it any other way. At one point I found a little something on my bed from my dear Sister Mary who I had spent so much time with. She left a card and a package of tissues. Later, I asked her if she left the tissues because she knew I was going to cry when reading her letter. She just laughed.

      After cleaning, we gathered for lunch and then prepared to head to Cape May for the afternoon. We got changed, dressed up a bit and then stood in the street trying to figure out how many vehicles would have to travel. We gathered in the school van, my mom van and the postulant mobile to excursion down the Garden State Expressway. I can honestly say that even though I was driving, having my friends in the back seats literally made it one of the most memorable half hour trips. 

       "We were watching you guys have such a good time from behind you," Sister Mary Jo said when we finally parked. 

       "Uhhhh...thanks!" we responded in harmony.

       We had had the radio turned all the way up and my friends were casually partaking in a self-proclaimed dance party. The car ride was full of laughter and good times. We "landed" and the first place the car full of English Majors headed to was the book store. We simply walked through little stores and admired the nice weather. And I had my first "drink" of a bottle of coca-cola. Two hours went by exceedingly fast and before we knew it we were back in the van and getting lost. It's not a real trip with the nuns unless you go the wrong way on a one way road or get lost. 

       Throughout my day, I received many text messages, facebook wall posts, tweets, phone calls and skype messages. I was laughing and feeling so blessed at every single on, but especially at the skype message I received from my CSFN sisters in Chicago. I showed almost all of my friends because it was absolutely hysterical. My favorite line was: "Now, we can have our glass of wine." I had left my phone upstairs all day but every so often when I got the chance to check it, it was overwhelming how much love I was receiving. Truly, I felt blessed.

       Having spent my birthday with the sisters last year, I had some idea of what was going to happen. I don't ever really like having the spotlight on me, so often, I hide "behind the scenes" and do the back work. So, while every one was preparing for a surprise for the Seniors, I was helping out with the dishes before sitting down again. Of course, one of the sisters said that you can't have a birthday without cake. So, I got to share in on the Graduation celebration and it was beautiful. Especially when my Hispanic lovebugs sang to me in Spanish. They always make me so happy; I love them! After ice cream and cake was served, I snuck into the kitchen to help Sister Elaine with the bigger dishes. 

       Over the big industrial sized sink is a large window that looks out over the bay. The two of us were standing there elbow deep in suds and water when we stopped to admire the sun setting for a few  seconds.

       "Here, finish these. I'll go get the car keys," Sister Elaine said to me as she handed me the last of the ice cream dishes. 

        Before I knew it, I was being kidnapped by my English teacher. I've blogged a few times about adventures with Sister Elaine but this one certainly takes the cake. We drove down the street and found a spot by the bay were we just sat in silence on the old, wooden stairs that lead straight into the water. Every so often one of us would say something, but for the most part we simply sat in silence and listened and watched. The birds were singing from all around. We could hear the sounds of the couple fishing a few feet next to us as well as the lapping of the water against the pier. The sun set was so absolutely beautiful. At that moment, I felt so infinity loved. Suddenly, tears were simply flowing down my cheeks. This was certainly a birthday I could never forget. But it wasn't over yet.

        When we got back to Villa Maria by the Sea, there was an intense game of whiffle ball going on. After some crazy looks from the other sisters, because they suddenly realized I went missing and went missing with Sister Elaine (seriously...the two of us together is a recipe for disaster at times), I was pulled into being permanent catcher for the game. While this worked out fantastically for the first half hour, at one point, my ring flew off my finger with the whiffle ball and we had to pause the game momentarily to find it. Then, the mother in Sister Cathy, gently demanded she hold onto my rings for the remainder of the time. The game ended in a passive truce as it got too dark to see anything anymore so we continued to day with another fire in the back yard. 

       My sense of time was essentially gone that week but especially that day. I had no idea what time it was and it didn't matter. I spent the day full of laughter and feeling so very loved. I usually have such a hard time letting people really love and appreciate me, but so many of my sisters broke through that tough barrier I hold up. I fell asleep that night thanking God for the best 21st birthday a girl could ever have. And the best part was that, it was "Nun-Alcoholic." Yep, no alcohol, just full of my sisters and my friends at the beach. When asked if I was sad I wasn't home and able to go out for my birthday by one of the sisters, I simply said, "Sister, didn't you turn 21 in the convent? I'm just trying to bring back tradition!"

       The next morning, I woke up for the sunrise and couldn't stop thanking God for the most beautiful birthday the day before. After cleaning and packing the car that morning, I found myself sharing a stoop with Sister Elaine. We slowly drank our coffee and simply let the sun warm our faces. In that moment, I knew God was doing something so extraordinary with my life. I felt infinite. 

       I can't thank all the people who I spent my birthday with enough. Truly, I am blessed. It's not every day you here someone say they spent their 21st in the convent and that it was "nun-alcoholic." Yeah, I'm one lucky gal. 

I'll Carry You - Battling the Flu

"When you saw only one set of footprints, 

it was then that I carried you."

- "Footprints In The Sand"

      It's been a pretty frigid winter. I hate wearing a coat, but I'll often bundle up in multiple layers just to keep warm. One afternoon, the topic of getting and staying warm came up at work study with Sister Cathy. I began to tell her how hard it is to get warm in my room because my roommate and I have this on-going, back and forth, passive aggressive fight over the heat. I'll come in, turn it up, go to bed. She'll come in, turn it down, go to bed. I'll wake up in the middle of the night freezing (under five blankets) and turn it up again! Back and forth we go, turning it up or down when we enter the room if the other isn't looking. I just looked over at the heat adjuster...guess what: it's been knocked down again! Of course, this little debate we have going is all in good fun...except when I'm freeeeeeezing! I just can't ever get warm unless it's Summer outside! I like to be warm, I like to snuggle, I like to sit by a campfire, I like Summer heat, I like sunshine. I hate being cold. 

      This time last weekend, I was freezing by behind off despite snuggling next to two Searchers on the notorious blue couch. I had almost all the clothes I packed on my body and I was under two blankets. I had a distinct throw-back to freezing every night while in NOLA, but this was different. I could feel heat behind my eyes, but I was shivering. Earlier that day, I had rolled out of my bunk bed and shuffled over to where Sister Cathy was sitting. Like the SEARCH Mother she is, she felt my head and cheeks only to tell me what I was already fearing: a fever was coming. A few minutes later, I took the hottest shower of my life and was finally warm. But soon after, I couldn't get warm and up until about Wednesday, I spent almost every moment of my days shivering in my bed. I spent the rest of retreat, trying my hardest to be the active, bubbling over self I usually am, but I was sooo cold. I even was bundled under my blanket during Mass. Nothing like the flu to humble me. At least I had a beautiful SEARCH Family to carry me. 

       After retreat, our Peru group had a mandatory meeting about Peru. All I wanted was my bed and sleep, but alas, that was not going to happen. My little sister had to cuddle me for two hours while I tried to listen to "all I needed to know" before I went to Peru, but to be completely honest, I retained nothing. I was too focused on trying to stay awake. I think I slept twelve hours that night. For the first time in a very long time, I didn't set a morning alarm. When I woke up, I found quite a few layers on the ground under my bed. Apparently, I had started to sweat it out over night. But the fever wasn't gone for sure. In fact, it held on for a few days. Today is the first day I am actually starting to feel closer to 100% better; even my cough is minimal!

      Sickness always humbles me. While on retreat, I had to let people help me with things and let me tell you how perfect my small group was, especially my other leader half, Matt. The other leaders really helped me out and reminded me that no matter what, I am loved. Whether it was simply rubbing my back, or tucking me in, or bringing me a cold water bottle for my head, they stepped up to the bar. Also under the "taking care of Becca catagory" was sitting on Becca's feet, legs, entire body to keep her warm, taking horrendous pictures of her, holding her hand so she didn't fall and making her smile despite the rainy days. In fact, I'd go back to SEARCH VI in a heart beat, because of what it did for me. It reminded me how to truly live the Fourth in a whole new way. 

      Back on campus, all the beautiful retreat bliss faded, but the love didn't. On Monday, Sister Cathy brought me an extra smile and told me that I didn't have to come into work study all week. On Tuesday, Sister Elaine told me she was postponing the due date for our research paper. On Wednesday, Sister Marcille reminded me of our Cast and Crew's ministry to simply smile. On Thursday and Friday and today, so many more gave me gentle smiles, uplifting words and lots of hugs! I felt as if I was dragging my feet every place I went, every time I got out of my nice, warm, bed. And yet, God surrounded me by so many uplifting people. I received encouraging emails, heart warming conversations with the Mother General and lots of laughter from the sisters at work. I got check up text messages and facebook posts. I have never felt this loved before. And to think that I needed the flu to help me realize it. 

      The flu honestly helped slow me down! Of course, I'm sure a SEARCH high played a huge part in my realization that I am loved, but the flu really helped. I didn't realize the amount of people in my life who would be willing to help me when I need it until this past week. I almost refused to believe that people actually do care for and love me here at school. But I couldn't ignore all the love I was given, especially from people I didn't think loved me as much as they showed me this week. I was blessed with so many little things, like smiles, gentle words and hugs, that really, truly, deeply showed and reminded me that I am loved. I learned a lot this week, but most importantly was that I am loved. It's hard for the lovers to accept and realize that they too are loved and the flu definitely helped me. It showed me how many people are willing to carry me, because at most moments this past week, it felt like all the sisters were literally carrying me. My heart was definitely being carried...the rest of me was probably being dragged (especially by Sister Elaine!) I guess you could say I am grateful for the flu. So, thanks God, for knocking me down, giving me the flu and then giving me so many people willing to carry and love me. Thanks a lot, from the bottom of my heart! I'd do it all again in a heart beat!

This Ain't Prom; It's Home

"Home is where someone notices when you are not there."

- The Lazarus Project, Aleksandar Hemon

     "I think I'll visit the Mount, tomorrow," I said to Sister David. "Oh wonderful, they miss you there, you know." Woah...where did that just come from? I thought seconds later. I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever (ever....) visited the Mount without first announcing my coming to at least one person in the house and there I was, saying I was just going to "pop over" for a visit. Little did I know, it was going to be the best thing I have done in a long time. But let's back the story up a bit....let's go to why I was visiting Sister David.

       Sister David, I think I have mentioned numerous times, is the sister. She was not only the first Sister I ever had in the classroom, but she was the first sister I had ever told I was thinking about discerning. Imagine me, a terrified (literally shaking in my school boots) 15 year old girl. I had thought the stigmatism of maybe wanting to be a sister was going to be so negative. I thought I was going to be mocked and made fun of. It was a secret I needed to spill, but was afraid to because "no one becomes a nun anymore." So, I wrote her a letter, and she responded by telling me I should stay after school the next day. OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS APPLESAUCE...was I in trouble? She was the disciplinarian at the time, you know. But no, I wasn't. The next day we had the best chat in the world. It was out of the box...I slowly became that girl who wanted to be a nun. And yet, NO ONE EVER MENTIONED A WORD ABOUT IT. My friends, my teachers, my family, my parish...they just started asking me about it. And because of Sister David, I could confidently say yes. And get this: I was NEVER met with a negative response. 

       And so, Sister David has literally stood by my side through every single up and down. She has been there for all my "big events," she has prayed me through so much, but most importantly she has been my confidante and mentor through and through. Which is why, every time I am home, I try to make a visit but most times we just can't do it. Yesterday was different. I sent her an email that morning (somewhere around 1 or 2 am) and asked her for her free periods. Of course, when I got a response, it was almost 6th period, her last free period of the day. So, I quick got in the car and drove to see her. We had a beautiful 45 minute chat about life, we caught up, she once again spread her wisdom and she reminded me that even though I have been graduated for three years now, I am remembered every single day at Nazareth. I didn't believe her at first so she told me to look in the prayer intentions book before I left. So after I helped her fix some margins for her test (good luck, girls), I went to the office to check it out. Lo and behold, there was my name scribbled on a line in the center of the page every single day. Tears filled my eyes. When I told Mrs. C, the secretary I had long ago befriended, what I was doing, she simply nodded and said, "Every day, Bec, because you're special and you make each one of us feel special. Every day I hear your name, I smile because you make me feel special." Wow. Just wow. This was still home even many years after. Of course, Sister Mary Joan, our principal, simply reiterated that before I left with a hug, a kiss, an I love you and a "you got it, mama." This was home, this is home and this always will be home.

      Later that afternoon, I was racing against time to meet the "Sister Who Shall Not Be Named" (according to her most simple request...we can't ruin her reputation). Once again, I was back at the Naz Acad ready for the second part of my day. Little did I know that her promise of flying a helicopter was a true promise and so, she hopped in the front seat of the always stylish mom van and we headed to the windy park. I remember spending afternoon after afternoon at that park in High School simply just walking around and loving every moment of it. As we both stood there, somewhat captivated by the simple beauty of it all, we agreed that we couldn't remember the last time we had been there. As we made the landing pad right near the baseball diamond, I couldn't help but remember the numerous amounts of pick-up softball games we played with the nuns there after school on Fridays. SWSNBN (Sister Who Shall Not Be Named) joined us a few times and I couldn't help but smile as she playfully called me a girl because I couldn't fly the helicopter. Of course, I won't neglect to mention that she was the one who ever so casually crashed it in the marshy baseball diamond. Before we knew it, we were both sinking in the sandy, rocky mud. Whatever. We decided to call it quits after someone's head ran into the helicopter and attempted to wash our shoes. Her inner very nunny self came out as she struggled to get every last particle of sand off her shoes. Finally, I just shouted, "Sister, it ain't prom! No one's going to be looking at your shoes." After laughing hysterically, we hopped in the car once more and headed to her favorite Chinese food restaurant. 

       The best conversations always start with a disagreement with her and of course, I started one. I said the table cloths and napkins were pink. She said they were mauve. We went back and forth, until finally, I let her win. "Mauve is a shade of purple," she said, "Not. Pink." Conversation continued and actually it was super sweet to finally catch up with her. To be quite honest, I felt so extremely blessed to have been able to spend such great time with an "acquaintance," but really someone who from the bottom of my heart, I love dearly. I mean, I am almost obligated to love her not only because she is my sister, but because she put up with me forcing SUNSHINE in her face every morning in High School. Poor girl often didn't even have her coffee yet before I was yelling down the hallway "GOOD MORNING SISTER!!!" I most likely drove her nuts but it was only because I was trying my hardest to make her smile. It's a wonder, after all these years and me still shouting "I LOVE YOU" after her, that she still keeps in contact with me. I honestly feel so blessed. After I dropped her off at home, I found myself thanking God all the way home. I felt so blessed to be able to laugh as freely and be as silly as I truly usually am with her. And that she felt she could do the same with me. From the bottom of my heart, I hope she knows as she's reading this, that I do love her as my sister!

       The blessings didn't end there, however. Remember how I said I promised to visit the Mount? Well, I found myself waking up this morning, pep-talking myself into going to Mass there. Like I said, I had never really down something so out of the blue there and even though I am seen as a risk-taker, I often have given myself a HUGE pep-talk before any risk can be taken. So after dropping my little Lizzie off at school, I headed down Holme Avenue and parked behind the Mount, a half an hour early for Mass. As I put my finger on the doorbell, I felt a sudden sense of peace as if I was truly meant to be there. There was an excitement that overtook me and I couldn't help but smile as Sister Evangeline opened the door. Before I could say anything, however, she exclaimed, "I can't believe my eyes! Welcome home, my Sister." God is so good! 

       I found an open seat in Chapel and within seconds I had gotten three hugs from various sisters. How beautiful it was to be welcomed home in such a simple and quiet way. I found myself thanking God once more as I heard the sisters begin prayers and I could so easily join them! And then to celebrate Mass with my sisters. One must understand that a good amount of the Sisters at the Mount have lived a long, beautiful a exciting life. Some sisters are simply retired and others are still on active ministry. It is a place where the sisters go when they are sick and getting ready for the last leg of life and yet these sisters have so much joy, more joy than I could ever imagine. A joy that, at the end of my  life, I wish to be blessed with. These sisters have given me such a reason to rejoice and I absolutely love visiting them. Most often there isn't any special reason, I just go. That's what I thought was happening today. But I found out I was wrong, after Mass.

       For every birthday in the house, all the sisters gather at the sister's bedroom and sing in both English and in Polish (it's tradition...)! Today, it was Sister Romuald's 98th birthday. And so, I boarded the elevator with the Sisters and we headed upstairs to her room. So many of us, all dressed in black and white and gray (even myself, ironically), stood by her bedside as we sang. At first, she was singing right along. I smiled, held back tears of joy, and looked back at the song sheet. Suddenly, I felt Sister Margaret Mary tap my arm. "Look," she whispered, "Look into her eyes." Then, my dear-hearted Sister Antonia Marie said something, "Look how she's looking at you, Bec." Before I knew it, not only were Sister Romuald's eyes on me, but so were the eyes of every sister in the room. They were watching the silent conversation take place between me and her. As I looked into her beautiful green-blue eyes, I felt such peace but I also felt the innocent love of God shoot me straight through my chest to my heart. It was as if she knew so much more about me and my future than I could ever know in my lifetime. I'm sure what she was thinking, but when Sister Nahida gently pushed me toward Sister Rom's beside, I knew she saw something in me. She saw the depths of my soul and I am so sure of it. I went to her side, patted her hand, wished her a happy birthday and thanked her for all her prayers for me. Every eye in that room was on the two of us, and yet, the conversation I shouted to her was meant for only us. We all experienced something so very beautiful this morning and even still, I can't really fathom what really did happen. All I know is that I looked into the eyes of an angel. 

        After the birthday celebration was over, a few of my dear sisters stood (or sat or leaned or rolled) into a circle around me. Each sister had questions or stories to tell me. I felt like a book on whose pages they were each writing. Sister Antonia Marie questioned my "skipping school," Sister Salvatore was wishing me good luck, Sister Nahida was suckering me into coming back on Saturday but most especially, Sister Stephanie, my high school Biology teacher, was telling me how she still has the box of sand I sent her from Cape May so many years ago next to her bedside. Eventually the sisters all went along on their way until it was just Sister Steph and myself. Our conversation continued and continued, until time meant nothing but being with her. There was no counting of minutes, there was no rushing from one place to the next, there was simply the two of us being together and enjoying each others' presence. I didn't realize how much I missed her until this morning, and once again, I felt so blessed. Eventually, I left her with an "I love you, always!" and then headed on my way out the door. When I got in the car, I realized I had spent two hours with my sisters including prayers and Mass. 

      God does that to me every so often. In this day and age when everyone is so time paranoid (myself included at times), He places me in a situation that I cannot be timed. He sends me home to a place where apparently my presence is missed so greatly, that I wind up spending inexhaustible amounts of time with my sisters. In every single moment in these past two days I have been reminded that not only am I loved by those around me but that I am remembered every day in pray, by my sisters, by my HS teachers, by my alma mater community. I am literally carried in so much prayer every day by so many people! This must be how life is so good for me all the time. In my absence at home, I am remembered and when I show up at the door, it's like the Father greeting the Prodigal Son. I am so blessed and I honestly cannot thank God enough for these beautiful people he has put into my life. Thank you, God. I am humbled by Your goodness in my life.