Neighbors Are...Methodists and Family

"You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself."

     We were hanging up balloons in the church on the pillars...well, trying to at least. We were failing miserably. The pillars were made of wood and the latex balloons just were not sticking with the scotch tape. There were three of us wrestling with the balloons and tape until finally, Miss Elaine came over to help us out. Here we were doing it all wrong...that was until, well, it popped right in her face. Oops. That's when, out of humorous distress Miss Carol exclaimed: how many United Methodists does it take to hang up a balloon? From a far, Miss Char chimed in: don't blame, her, she's a Catholic. Yep...me. 

     I have been helping out at Vacation Bible School at Wilkinson United Methodist Church for about four or five years now. It's been so many years of fun, that I can't quite remember. I know what you're all thinking: how did I, a little Catholic girl, get mixed up with all those Methodists? Well, there's a few reasons: first of all, the church was where my littlest sister went to Pre-K. Almost all the kids in Croydon go to Pre-K there. Second, both of my sisters have been participating in VBS since God knows when. Third, the church is literally right across the street from my house. And finally, Miss Elaine takes her pets to my mom's work, and off the cuff, my mom volunteered me. It's been uphill ever since. I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

     I can remember the first moment all the volunteers found out I was the lone Catholic girl. It started with a mention that no one had ever seen me in church before. It grew to confessing I go to a different church and then quickly escalated to admitting I'm a Catholic...a proud one. I have always, since I was a little girl, been fascinated with religion. Not simply my Catholic faith, but all religions, their practices, their beliefs, everything. I immediately wanted to know everything about what it meant to be Methodist. And what could have easily turned into a "we're very different" chat, actually developed into a five year faith sharing process. 

     I love my Methodist family. I seriously just love them. Now that I've been volunteering with them a few years, being the lone Catholic girl has become a friendly joke and a beautiful thing. I can't tell you how much faith sharing I have done with these beautiful people. The only time I really do get to see them is during VBS which saddens me a bit, but alas, all in God's good time. I am constantly reminded by my dear friends that I am Catholic and that they love that about me. I have literally been accepted into their family and loved just the same. This whole idea has changed my life in so many ways, but especially because they have put into practice loving their neighbors as themselves and loving those who are different. I tell them we are like a family, each loved for our differences. It's like growing up in my family: my sisters and I are very different, yet I love them each for the different gifts they offer. My Methodist family has reminded me by their example to continuously love those around me who have even greater differences. 

     Like I said, my Methodist family is always reminding me of my Catholic faith, for example, Miss Char's exclamation of : "don't blame her, she's a Catholic." This week of VBS has been so beautiful for me especially in proclaiming my faith. Before, my Catholic faith was something I avoided talking about with them, if only to avoid awkward conversation. However, they have lead me on to holiness in a way that I openly proclaim my faith to them. This week, as many of you may know, we celebrated a Holy Day of Obligation in our Catholic Faith: the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. On Wednesday night of Bible School, I went around reminding each of my little ones from our Parish, that they had to get to Mass the next day. I could see some of my dear friends looking on intriguingly. I didn't think anything of it. 

     Our Mary day came and went, and by Friday of Bible School, my heart was heavy. Like I said, I only get to really see my Methodist family once a year during VBS. I got there a little earlier to help my partners in crime, Miss Christine and Miss Kelsey, set up our "classroom" for our final night. Before I knew it, there was a crowd of people just mingling in our "classroom" before going up to the sanctuary. I guess I mentioned that I got up early and went to Mass and conversation sparked from there. We talked about how I go to Mass every day, how it's not an obligation, but rather only on Sunday and Holy Days, like Thursday. That's when Miss Char starts stumbling over a question she wanted to ask me. At first, I thought I knew what she wanted to ask me, but then she was having trouble formulating the words. Everyone was giving her a look that was between confusion and laughter. Finally she goes: have you ever, ya know, thought about becoming a nun? I smiled and nodded, knowing that was what she had been trying to say the whole time. I never really expected what happened next. Miss Char's eyes, after hearing me say that I have been thinking about entering religious life ever since I was little, started filling up with tears. I almost started crying. We quickly hurried up the stairs to get our students and start our final lesson. But at the end of the night, when I was saying my goodbyes to my dearheart Miss Carol, and Miss Char, I was told: I would literally love to have you as my daughter or granddaughter. You're going places, kid. I know it. 

      Over the week, the respect I gained for not only my eventual profession as a teacher but also my vocation grew immensely. Even though I am studying to be a high school teacher, teaching my little ones is always a blessing. I love doing teachery things and VBS is definitely one of them. But of course, vocation, as a discerner to religious life, stems from that as well. I always expect people to ask questions, even my Catholic Parish family, and so often people fulfill my expectations. I was never expecting to topic of discerning to even make a debut at VBS with my Methodist family, but Miss Char cut straight to the chase. I expected questions to follow, and eventually they did, but I never expected the tears. Miss Char, without knowing it, reminded me of the reason why I ever started discerning in the first place: the very beauty of it all. 

     I can honestly say that over the past seven years of open discernment to the religious life, there have been times when I feel as if I have fallen into a routine of discernment. There are many times where, although I know I am no where near being an official sister, I feel as if I am because I have been a part of the life for so long. There are times when I forget why I fell in love with Jesus so much in the first place. I can't tell you how many times in the past seven years that I have shed tears because I have truly known the love from Jesus and His continuous call for me. And yet, there are times when I forget this. Perhaps I hadn't forgotten it this time, but I know I wasn't thinking about it. Yet, Miss Char reminded me so beautifully that truly this is the vocation I feel so called to in this life. Yes, last night, as I prayed to thank God for such a beautiful week with such beautiful people, I cried because of His ultimate goodness. Oh He is just so good to me. 

    This week during Vacation Bible School we taught our students all about neighbors, both here in the USA and all over the world. We learned what makes up a good neighbor: friendliness, a giving, welcoming and forgiving attitude and boldness. We learned that no matter what our differences, we must always love and care for one another because we are all brothers and sisters with God as our father. And as for me, while it wasn't in the written curriculum, I learned not only the obvious (my neighbors are Methodist) but that as neighbors we must always uplift and support one another in everything we do; we must continuously pray for the to persevere in each one's vocation. Yep, I learned a little bit, too. 

     And so, I've got two questions for my Methodist family: Will you come to my final vow ceremony? And can I come back to help at VBS as a Sister?! 

(The Song for this Post can be found by using the following link: http://vimeo.com/60015661)

It is my favorite VBS song from this year :)

    

Being Bread, Blessed and Broken

"Bread, blessed and broken for us all.

Symbol of Your love from the grain so tall.

Bread of life You give to us, 

Bread of life for all."

- Michael Lynch

    It's been a very LONG time since I've blogged but let me catch you up why before I get into this post. Once I arrived safely home from Peru (I still miss it every day...more and more as each day passes...), I was well on my way back to IU for ten days for Orientation Training and then four intense days of New Student Orientation. I left our second session of Orientation a few hours early (after having a sweet and much needed chat with Sister Cathy) and headed for CREW (Community Rocks Everyone's World). I went from one community of sisters to another and back again. I went from convent living to residence hall living to convent living in a residence hall setting. In the process of those two weeks I did a plethora of things such as: meet tons of new people, fall in love (again and again), work my behind off in sweltering hot conditions, reflect and lose a lot of sleep. I wouldn't trade these past few weeks for anything in the world because I am a true believer in the fact that I am always exactly in the location that God needs me in. That is, I know that wherever I am, with whomever I am, I am always where God intended. However, that wasn't all. As you can well imagine, I did an awful lot of thinking. Doing a lot of traveling alone (eg driving in my car) gives me a lot of time to think and reflect on my life, where I have been and where I am going. 

     It started when I left my residence hall early Saturday morning to drive home to Mount Nazareth for Mass and then to help my dear CSFN Sisters set up and prep for CREW 2013. It typically takes me about 45 minutes to an hour to get from Croydon to IU and vice versa. It was smooth sailing down the turnpike that early in the morning and I couldn't help but praise the Lord all the way there. I was going to see my dear Sister Bernice one more time before she headed back home to CT AND celebrate Mass with my sisters. Most of my thinking on the way home was about the previous week I had had at school during training and then during the first Orientation Session. I had met many new students, bonded with my already very close friends and shared a bit of my Peru experience with them. 

     After Mass, breakfast and set up, I was soon on my way back to IU. Since I was already in the city, I decided to head home by a different way. However, since I was away for a month, I had forgotten about the miserable construction and traffic route 95 provides at any time during any day. The normal one hour ride took me two and let me tell you, I was not a happy camper. I finally made it back to school and jumped right back into Orientation mood only to jump right out again on Tuesday as I started CREW. 

     I arrived at CREW just in time for supper and left shortly after to attend a viewing for a dear and very loved Parish family member. It was so difficult to hold back my tears as I said goodbye to one of my number one cheerleaders here on earth. She was always uplifting me and doing her best to keep me in prayer and thought. The line was longer than imaginable and even there I did some of my best reflection and prayer. Standing among my Parish family there was tons to think about and think did I do. 

     I can honestly say that in the past two weeks I have experienced a lot along the emotional and spiritual roller coasters. I was struggling to truly find words to speak about or even write about but I couldn't. No, not until Wednesday evening when we were sitting as a CREW and CSFN Family during Sister Romuald's funeral. The dear woman, one who I have blogged about once before, was in her nineties and had lived a most beautiful life. The chapel was filled and so, we girlies had to bring with us into chapel chairs from the dining room. I sat by myself in the back as a mother looking upon her CREW children and as a little sister looking with awe upon her older sisters and wisdom figures. For the first time in a very long time, I realized, I was able to belt out the hymns during Mass and sing in harmony with many other beautiful voices. I realized this as Sister Josepha played "Bread, Blessed and Broken" on the organ and my heart began to leap for joy in this realization. The next morning all my thoughts from the past two weeks hit me...

      Bread, Blessed and Broken. This song, for any Catholic, is an obvious one; it's all about Jesus. It's about Jesus becoming the Eucharist, the bread and the wine we drink. It's a song begging Jesus to come into our hearts and minds to ease the pains and to make us whole again. It's about proclaiming one's love for Jesus from the very beginning of life to the very end. I found the song so fitting for the funeral of Sister Romuald and then the next day, found it so fitting for my life. You see, I took that song for a very deep reflection. In fact, I was almost scrambling around for a pen in the middle of Mass. But I knew no one would have one so I tried really hard to remember...and to sit still. We are called, as Christians, Christ to others. That is, just as Christ took on flesh to save us, we are to put on Christ and be Him for the world. Jesus, at every Mass transforms from bread to Eucharist, blessed and broken. And so, if we were to become Christ, we are to become Bread, Blessed and Broken. 

    In my life, I can honestly, I have been through many trials and tribulations. Because I have been bread for others in my personal putting on of Christ, I have been so blessed. But, like many, I had forgotten that being bread for others also entailed me as broken. Often when I am aching and I feel like my heart is breaking, I question God. I ask Him why on earth things hurt so much. Why do things such as leaving someone you love or having someone you love leave you, hurt so much. Well, it's a three fold reflection here. 

    I have learned easily to love much and love many (all). I can easily love those around me and those who seem so far away (my dear ones in NOLA, Jamaica and now, Peru). You saw me write in the course of the past two weeks, I have fallen in love. Yes, I have. Not for the first time and not for the last time. I met new people and learned to love them quickly upon first meeting them and without judgement. But I also spent a lot of time with my very close friends, both guys and gals, with whom, I felt a much deeper connection by the end of the week. Bread, as you know, especially if you eat it, fills one up. It reduces hunger quickly and often, is a staple at many meals. Being bread calls for me to love and fulfill the need for love in others. Falling in love was easy, I had that part of being bread down pat. Although, and I'm not quite sure if Jesus (or actual bread) experienced this, but sometimes I can fall in love too far. While this happens on rare occasion, I can sometimes find myself falling a little further in love with one of my very close guy friends. That may or may not have happened this week. Regardless, it usually nevers goes much beyond me thinking how great of a husband that young man may be. I often can't help falling in love with everyone. 

    The blessed part also comes very easy to me. You see, I have learned (not perfected) to see God in maybe of my day to day life situations, even in the unfortunate ones. Just like Laura Story says, "Maybe Your blessings come through raindrops." I know that I am so blessed. At the end of every day, I thank God for all the blessings with which He provided me. At my waking each day, I find myself thanking God that I awoke that morning. Sometimes, if I am experiencing a case of the Debbie Downers, I will answer your "How are yah?" with an, "I'm alright, I'm alive." I know that whatever God sends me during any day is what I need. I may not know it at the time, but I know that I can trust Him. Perhaps this might be the easiest part of being bread. 

    The hardest part is this: the suffering. Of the many things I have experienced in the past two weeks in the transferring of two of my closest sisters. And when I mean closest, I mean, I can already feel the distance between us. I have experienced this time and time and time again and I know it is a part of religious life regardless of the community. I thought that I had come to peace with the fact that moving is a part of life. I told myself, if I am not okay with it now when others are transferring, how am I ever going to be able to handle it myself when it comes time for me to leave a place I have so long called home? And so, I thanked God for the blessings of Facebook, Email, Telephone and Skype. Even though the sisters who have moved far away have been so close, I took it all to prayer and came to the peace. However, this time around it seemed to hurt a little bit more. Why? Well I'm not too sure. But perhaps  it is because it feels like the wounds have been reopened. I know there is always a means to communicate, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt to feel the distance. And yes, I know the pain is all part of being human, so I embrace it. But it still stinks....alot. 

     The truth is this: I have realized that the brokenness of being bread comes first. Whether it is to my sisters, my family, my friends or those I am just meeting for the very first time, I must give them a piece of myself. I am the loaf and in loving them, I must break off a piece for each person I come in contact with. I, without realizing, had already been broken so many times. But, I never really thought about it in this way. It is allowed to hurt, because Jesus hurt. Jesus was just as human as you and me and He hurt, too. He was broken in so many ways, when He lost Lazarus, when He was beaten on the road to Calvary, when He felt betrayed. He was broken to give of Himself. We are broken not in the literal sense but rather figuratively. We are broken to give ourselves to one another and we are broken because we are human. And with the brokenness of giving a piece of ourselves to every person we meet, we are blessed tenfold in return. 

      After reflecting on this, after falling a little too far in love again, after experiencing the pain of losing those I love both from this earth and in the transferring, after experience intense graces and prayer in the past two weeks, I can honestly say I know now what it means when God calls us on to be Bread for the World. We are called to be Bread, Blessed and Broken and by george, I think, that with the help of many, I can do it. 

Who Am I? - A Reflection on the Visitation

"How does this happen to me,

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

- Luke 1: 39-56

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

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

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

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

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

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.