P.S. I Love You - Remembering Sister Sandi

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal;

love leaves a memory no one can steal."

- Irish Proverb

      "Happy Birthday...dear, dear Becca. It was so good seeing you again. You did a great job with the girls...and they love you. Seems like you found your ministry. Just like Jesus the Teacher! Have a beautiful birthday, my friend, filled with the choicest of God's graces - whatever your heart needs! Put this towards a little treat and think of me. Love and prayers, always, your Sister, Sandi."

      I came home from a wickedly emotion week at work today and saw on the dining room table a few brightly colored envelopes with my name on it. There's nothing I love more than getting letters in the mail. This is day three of being blessed with such a thing and of course, I smiled when I saw my name on the envelopes. I carried my bundle of stuff up the stairs and sat on my bed to open the envelopes. I needed a smile - this week was a tough one. 

      The first envelope came from my great aunt Bunny (no, that's not her real name, but she'd kill me if I told you what her real name was). A simple pink envelope with a little birthday message scribbled inside. In a few days she will call me to see if I got the card and we will have a little conversation about missing each other and hoping to see each other soon. I'll thank her for remembering me and we'll hang up with an "I love you." A few days later, I'll write her a thank you note just to remind her that I got the card :) 

      The second envelope had a strange message written between the lines. The return address label read typed: Sister Sandi and then scribbled in pen next to it: & Sister Lucille. I didn't want to open the envelope. I was so scared to see what was inside. I sat the envelope back down and sat for a few moments before I got the courage the open the envelope. Inside the pastel yellow (my favorite color) envelope, was a little diddy card and in the card was the following message, five dollars and a cut out page from the Angelus book about the St. Rebecca, a nun from the 19th century. I couldn't even get through the first sentence without starting the sob. When I realized tears were rapidly dripping down my cheeks, I made a careful notion to not get any tears on the ink. I didn't want to smear the last handwritten note I'd ever get from her. 

      Sister Sandi, my dear friend, passed away last Sunday. I was dressed as a woman from the 18th century at a Revolutionary War Reenactment when suddenly my phone went off. A text message from one of the Sisters letting me know that Sister Sandi had gone home to God. A few hours later, I got a phone call from another one of the Sisters ready to have that tough conversation with me. I remember standing for a few moments reading the words on my phone. That dramatic thing that happens when someone gets bad news in hollywood, where they drop everything and start sobbing? Well, that happened to me. I dropped my phone and just started walking. I eventually say on a bench near the Potomac River and cried. 

      Exactly a month ago this week, I interrupted Sister Sandi's prayer in the Chapel in Chicago for a hug. The little woman who stood only a few centimeters shorter than me, smiled gently when she looked up at my face and walked with me to the hallway. It was there that we joined in a hug that was so tight, making up for the distance and the time since we had last seen each other. She so graciously hugged and joyously welcomed each of my students and my fellow faculty member as they entered the doors to Chapel before Mass. There was something good about being home and I knew part of it was being with my Sister, Sandi. 

      The rest of the week we saw each other here and there because although we were living in the same convent for the week, we both had very different schedules. I mean, after all, I was there with my students on a service trip and she had her daily life to attend to. However, we would always engage in wonderful conversation when we had the time. She was so gentle, as always, with my students. I knew that she loved them because I loved them and there would be no question about that. She asked me about the family and every day another little surprise would show up at my bedroom door labeled: for mom, for dad, for Mary and for Lizzie. My little surprise came on the first day - a hand written welcome note, as per her tradition. 

      I met Sister Sandi because of my little sister. A number of years ago, I was home from school and it was a huge weekend at the convent: Sister Anne was making her final vows. I decided to go over to the school, where the ceremony was being held, to see if there was any help needed to set up. Naturally, I dragged my little sister into it. She had to have been only six at the time. I remember so clearly how I had been upstairs in the Chapel with her when Sister Mary Joan asked Lizzie to go with her - she had a job for her. My Sisters could always be counted on for making any member of my family feel welcome and useful and appreciated. After a while, I went downstairs to see what kind of work Lizzie was getting herself into. I saw the following interaction taking place:

      Lizzie was running back and forth between tables setting them with utensils. However, she wasn't doing it all at once but rather spoon by spoon, fork by fork and knife by knife. She was getting each spoon, fork and knife from this little nun sitting down at a table. This little nun just happened to be Sister Sandi, who introduced herself and began to tell me how much she loved my sister. She came from Chicago and over the course of less than 24 hours I immediately felt like I had found a new friend. After the ceremony the next day, I was standing outside with Sister Sandi when she asked me if I had ever thought of religious life because I was truly make a good fit. I hugged her and just knew that she would be a beautiful confidant and prayer partner. 

       In the course of knowing Sister Sandi for four and a half years, she never failed to send me or my sisters a birthday card, Christmas card and Easter card. Whenever I would visit Chicago, she either picked me up or dropped me off at the airport. Of course, regardless of her airport duty, she would always have a little welcome note in my bedroom. She would always make time to have a little conversation with me. Some of the most memorable conversations include all the times she told me that she would love me no matter what community I enter, all the conversations we had about our gifts and talents, and all the conversations where we cried because of God's goodness. She was so gentle, so loving and always up for fun. She had a great laugh, a great knack for friendship and a huge love for Culver's Ice Cream ("it's tradition!"). 

       Tonight is Sister Sandi's viewing and I can't tell you how many times I searched every flight website for a low cost flight this week. I was obviously dreaming. I contemplated driving out for the day for her funeral tomorrow, but there would be no way I could do it. I wanted to be there but I knew that she would always be with me. I got her Birthday card to me today on the day of her viewing. Tomorrow is my birthday and the day of her funeral. I'll be spending morning Mass with our Sisters in prayer for the repose of her soul - I know she's dancing in Heaven right now. I know that she was so ahead of her a game that she had had my birthday card written and sealed and addressed probably before she had her knee replacement surgery. She was just waiting to mail it. 

        Of course, typically, I would write Sister Sandi a thank you note. I know she wont' receive it but if I were to write one it would say: My dear, dear Sister Sandi. I can't thank you enough for the card and in an envelope of my favorite color, too! I think I'll save your little gift for the next time I come to Chicago - Culver's on me? It was so good seeing you over our Spring Break trip. The girls LOVED being there and I know they LOVED you. You're such a wonderful woman of God and I am so glad you're in my life. Praying for you always. Love, your Sister, Becca. P.S. I love you."

        Had I known that my goodbye to her right before we journeyed home from Chicago was going to be my last time seeing her, I wouldn't have done anything different. I gave her a squeeze, told her I'd see her soon and that I'd be praying for her. Of course, I finished our goodbye with an "I love you." There's something I love about my Sisters and it's that they always know how important those three little words are to me. They always know that I'm going to say it and they always know that they need to say it in response. So when I told Sister Sandi that I loved her, she put her hand on my cheek and said, "You, too, kid, you, too." 

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. 

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.