The Most Beautiful Thing

"I was blessed to see the most beautiful thing, 

and it wasn't the Rockies."

- Deacon T

      On the rare occasion that we attend a Vigil Mass, I always find it a bit hard to focus. I am so accustomed to starting my Sundays or Feast Days off with Mass and quiet that I find it hard to be centered after a long day of noise and activity. Despite this, New Year's Eve is one of those times we attend the vigil Mass. We were among the few and far between; I could count the amount of young people on my two hands. There were barely any families. I was finding it even harder to focus because of this small gathering of church. But God found my attention anyway. 

     Our deacon opened his homily be inviting the parishioners to reflect on the good things that happened to us in 2019. Immediately, Joe and I looked at our baby - she was, by far, the best part of 2019 for us. He then went on to describe the beautiful sights he was blessed to see on his family vacation over the summer - his favorite family trip. As he went on, however, he said, "As beautiful as these sights were, they were not the most beautiful thing." He then described the wonder and awe that encompassed him at the birth of his son. 

     He described how amazing it was to witness this but also how incredible it was to see others love on his son as they visited, learned of his birth, and more. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I squeezed our little girl a bit tighter on my lap. Yes. This was exactly what I had experienced  and it was exactly what was flooding through my mind. Every little detail of the day Hannah was born until the moment she was placed in my arms was vividly playing. I remember every second of the day and evening. I was so happy to have that night with our new little family; just the three of us. It was perfect.

     So why did Deacon mentioned this most beautiful event? Because New Year's Eve is the Vigil of the Solemnity of Mary. He likened the experience he had to what might have been for the Holy Family. If he, and I, and others like us, are in such wonder and awe of our own babies at their births, how much more wonder and awe must have filled Mary and Joseph's hearts at the sight of THE HOLY CHILD. Did they cry at the sight of this baby child like so many have? Did they hold the Christ Child to their chests and kiss his little baby head? Did they watch this baby sleep next to them in the manger? Did Mary sleep at all during those first 24 hours? Did she worry about how she would feed him or cloth him or change him? Had Joseph ever changed or held a baby before? It was if suddenly, I was taken back to the night Christ was born via the birth of my own child.
    Imagining and reflecting on what might it have been like for the Holy Family as they welcomed the birth of their Christ Child has been a beautiful journey of my faith. It leads me not just down the wonder and awe of the birth of Christ but also His infancy. Each morning my baby girl stares, smiles and now talks at the crucifixes that are hung above her bassinet. I wholeheartedly believe that she is praying, that she KNOWS Jesus. I wonder if her image of God is that of another baby friend or if her image of God is of a friendly, bearded man who kisses her head all the time, like her daddy. Who does she see when she talks to Jesus? When I bring her to Mass with me daily, I sometimes imagine myself taking her to a baby play date...am I crazy? is it absurd? perhaps. But this is the reflection I have been led on.
   
     In light of the Golden Globes and the comments made about women achieving dreams, I can only say that this journey of Motherhood has led me down a path of utmost respect for the Mothers in the world but even more so for the Blessed Mother. She was not planning to have a baby when she did but by her yes to Divine Motherhood, her dreams and ours, for that matter, have grown beyond understanding. Motherhood has been nothing short of a blessing for me; my dreams have exploded into many, many more, knowing that I am better because of my daughter and all my future children. Motherhood is my best dream and as a result of this, my spiritual journey continues to be enlightened. Every day I am surprised at the goodness of my daughter and I am blown away by the blessings I reap through her. Mary must have felt this way, too. For if this is how I am feeling daily, complete wonder and awe of the ways my child leads me to God, Mary must have felt this even more so; her child was LITERALLY GOD.

     Thank you, God, for my daughter. Thank you for speaking to my heart daily through her. I am blessed with the most beautiful thing.

My Magnificat

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord

and my Spirit rejoices in God, my Savior.

For he has looked with mercy on my lowliness.

For the mighty God has done great things for me."

- Holy Is His Name, John Michael Talbot

      As a lover of music and a lover of words, there have been many occasions on which I simply get overwhelmed. Today's young people can't really say that their music contains rich vocabulary, but I can tell you that there is still music being produced with words of a little more depth than "yeah," "baby, baby, baby," and "oh, oh, oh." Thank God for these musical groups and artists, as their music is a gift. However, there are many genres of music which tap into my heart strings, whether it be because of the memories it brings me, the moment in which they are being played or the depth of words in them. Whether I am driving, dancing or discovering music, I sometimes, while listening deep, find myself choked up. I don't dismiss those tears, but rather, I embrace them. I know, with every tear shed, the song is growing in importance to my journey. Naturally, I am only writing of this, because this weekend, I had one of those moments. 

     I was blessed to be asked to guest cantor at my home parish this past weekend as we celebrated our feast day, St. Thomas Aquinas. While I had to drive a little longer and wake up a little earlier, it was still going home for Mass, for me. Singing has always been a special gift for me, a way for me to praise my God. Every time before Mass, I sit on the altar, patiently waiting and conversing with my Lord. I ask him to make my voice strong in his praise and I thank him for the gift he has given me. Whether I am in the pew, or cantoring, it is my way. And so, it becomes that each word in the song, is then my prayer; a prayer I have not written and yet, can pray. I will be honest and say, I hadn't given much thought to the list of songs on the schedule. And perhaps, that is why, when the piano intro began for "Holy Is His Name," I was taken aback more than I usually am. 

     This song has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember. It is my favorite composition of Mary's prayer, the Magnificat, a prayer I have constantly re-written in my own words. In her moment of fear, Mary did nothing but praise her God; she found nothing but joy in her humility. The words of Mary have meant so much to me for so long, that when I cannot find the words to express my gratitude to God, I depend on these words. Singing her words only mean so much more. So when it came time to plan the Liturgy for our wedding, I knew right away that instead of the traditional "Ave Maria," a prayer to Mary, I wanted the Magnificat, the prayer of Mary. I remember Father Rudy telling our bridal party and our parents at our rehearsal, that this small part of the Mass would be my special chance to ask Mary to help me be a good woman, a good wife and a good mother. But, I knew it would be more than that. 

      Mary, in her magnificat, glorifies the goodness for the suddenness of womanhood, wife-hood and motherhood being thrust upon her. While she had a choice, her yes must have been one filled with all kind of emotion. Any "yes" to God's plan would be filled with emotion - fear, doubt, feeling unsure, joy, gratitude, love, and so much more. Because, let's be real, saying "yes" to God's plan, is saying "yes" to the unknown. In my prayer life, my "yes" to God's plan, not "God's plan that says this, that and the other thing will happen," just simply, "God's plan," was filled with emotion. It was a real, "Your will, God, not my own," every day and will be for the rest of my life. And because of that, the Magnificat becomes even more real for me. While it seems to elicit different thoughts now, it is still just as real for me as it had been before. Actually, it may be even more real. 

    So as the music began, I could only smile at the true depth of connection my heart was feeling with the Magnificat. It wasn't just a song; they weren't just words. It was a prayer and it was my prayer. As I sang, it was my soul glorifying the Lord, my life being humbled by his presence in my life. The lord has truly done so many great things for me. And then, I choked up. My eyes, my heart and my soul welled up. I thought back to December 8, the beautiful Marian feast day on which Joe and I will celebrate our marriage as an sign and symbol of the Church, and how blessed I've been since then in only a month and a half. I considered all the beautiful lives who witnessed our marriage, religious, married, single, young, old but all the same beautiful. The unlimited support we've been given and all thanks to our amazing God. 

     Mary and I haven't always had this beautiful relationship and I truly believe I needed her in ways I never imagined. She will be my source of strength for a continuous yes, for strength in marriage and as a wife, and eventually, for strength in motherhood. I can only thank her for being my friend, my confidante and role model. And because of that, last night I went to visit her in the IHM Motherhouse Chapel. I felt peaceful being there, praying with the Sisters, praying the words of the Magnificat of Evening Prayer. But the icing on the cake of my feelings of being blessed, was the intercession prayed for married couples. There weren't pools of tears in my eyes that time, but there was a smile stretched far across my face. My soul truly glorifies the Lord, for he has been so incredibly good to me. 

A Few of My Favorite Things: Nuns and Babies Part Two

"Holding a baby is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

How all they do is wave their arms and reach for your 

face and watch your every move. The way their little fingers

wrap all around your single one and their tiny toes

squirm all about. And when they sleep, surely it's an angel

in your arms. It's as beautiful holding the new life as it is 

holding the hand of an elderly person.

The peace is unexplainable."

- "Becca-ism"

    I cannot help but continue to reiterate how blessed my year has been. I am continuously simply in awe of His mighty goodness. I am so grateful for all God has given me. Once before, not too long ago, I did a blog post on nuns and babies. Well, friends, here's a part two. God has been so generous to me that I simply good not pass up this chance to once again proclaim my love for nuns and babies.

    Last night, slightly spur of the moment, my Dad, little sister and I decided to visit my aunt, uncle and seven cousins. Yes, that's right, I said seven cousins. You see, in our family, having lots of kids is pretty common. My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Maryanne have taken the cake on having the most kids. Not only that, but they also have the youngest kids, the youngest of whom is my most precious God-daughter. Last week, Emily turned one. That's a big deal for a little princess, you know. So part of our reason to go over was to give her her present. When we got there, it was close to seven. When we left, it was close to nine. Those two hours went by faster than you can believe.

    I'm known to be the biggest little kid in my family. I'm always the older cousin running around with the babies. I'm usually outside playing football with the younger boys or playing teacher or dress up with the girls. I'm not the older cousin who stands around contemplating the universe over a wine cooler. Nope, I'm playing with the kids. Last night was no different. I walked into the living room and as my dad tackled his brother, I wrestled the two boys into a big hug. My cousins, Albert and Charles, were dressed in super hero pajamas and so, being the teacher that I am, I asked them all about the superheros. Then I asked if I could be one. So, guess who I got to be?! Wonderwoman. I didn't know this, but apparently she has a lasso that forces the person in the lasso to tell the truth. So, I started a little game with the boys. If I caught them in my arms, my "lasso," they had to tell me one truth. Well our truths turned into riddles which the other made up. At 8 o'clock, the clock chimed and my aunt told the boys they had to go to bed. They almost cried because they didn't want to. Heck, I even cried. So, I asked if I could take the boys up to bed. 

       Now, I forgot to mention that every time one of the boys got an answer right to the question while in the lasso, they got a turkey five. They loved this and it had them deep belly laughing. It had me hysterically laughing, too. When we got to the top of the stairs, the boys were supposed to go to the bathroom and then go brush their teeth. Well, as little boys tend to do, they did NOT want any parts of this at all. So, I told them they if they didn't do their bedtime routine, they wouldn't get a Turkey Five. Didn't that do the trick?! Of course, I think the boys' favorite part was riding me up the stairs. Long ago, I had mastered the method of being able to carry at least three kids on me at one time. With only two of them, it was easy. Albert was on my back and Charles clung to me like a baby koala bear on the front. When they finished in the bathroom, they got to ride dinosaur Becca to their bedroom. Then I stood up, rolled down the blankets, and catapulted them into their beds. Of course, I had to tickle them until they laid down and then I tucked them in. My aunt came in for a good night kiss and then I demanded one, too. Of course, my good night kiss ended in a little blessing on their foreheads. 

       While I didn't get to hold my goddaughter much last night since she herself was getting ready for bed, I did get to play with her little brothers. Children, I very firmly believe, are closer to the angels than I'll ever be during my time here on Earth. In fact, they are angels themselves. I never tire of hanging out with my little cousins and I really wish they could all stay so little forever. My cousins give me the chance to be the kid I have inside. They give me a chance to kiss and hug angels. They give me a chance to play with the divine. I went home last night and couldn't have been happier. One might think that spending all this time with kids would make me want to have kids of my own and yes, this is true. But more often then not, spending time with all these kids make me want only be a that crazy Sister aunt lady who gets to play with all the kids because she doesn't have any of her own. This is especially so when my cousins answer the riddle: What do you call a traveling nun? By saying, "You, Becca?" Ha, yes, kids, I am an eventual traveling nun.

        When talking about my adventures with the kiddos last night, I mentioned that playing with them is as close to the divine as I can get aside from holding the hands of the elderly. This morning, I was blessed enough not only to go to Mass at the SBS Motherhouse, where my good friend, Katie D, once lived, but also to visit my other good friend, Sister Ruth Catherine. I had been told that Sister's memory is going and I was nervous that she wouldn't recognize me but when I went up to her room after Mass, she was so excited to see "her Becky." She had me sit down on her bed and then we chatted. I found triumph in only having to retell one story twice; all the others we only had to do once. Today was a good day for her. Toward the end of our visit, after asking me about how much I love teaching, she asked: "You know, Becky, I know you'll make a great teacher. Have you ever thought of religious life?" Sister Ruth asks me this question during every visit, I think because she just wants the thrill of hearing me say yes. So today, I told her: "All the time, Sister. In fact, never have I felt this much peace in my life until finally admitting to myself that I know where and to whom I belong." She grasped me hand, kissed my forehead and spoke with such joy in her voice. I smiled, almost cried, and thanked God for yet another triumph. She later linked my arm as we walked out of her room and I kissed her cheek goodbye with the reminder that I am always praying for her. She's simply beautiful.

       Yes truly, a few of my favorite things are nuns and babies. This Thanksgiving break, I got both my nun fix and my baby fix. I was so happy. I am so grateful. Both of these events gave me enough joy and stamina to get through these next two weeks of school before Christmas break. There is much to look forward to in these last two weeks and I know there will be so much for which I am grateful. Thank you, God, for baby cousins and nuns! And just a shout out to my favorite missed connection nun who called me while I was in the middle of this blog post: How big WAS that Rudolph blow up in the yard? Love you, AF! 

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?

Jamaican Me Crazy, Mon, At Our Lady of Hope Orphanage

"Hardships there are, but the land is green and the sun always shineth." 

     Last night, I fell asleep to the sound of my little sister, Lizzie, snoring on my bedroom floor. I was snuggled under my blanket and tried for hours to fall asleep! But, I couldn't. I was missing the sounds of crickets chirping, dogs barking, laughter from the children, and so much more. I was missing the beautiful, Jamaican breezes, the glorious moon and stars shining, and the precious faces of the children. I was so sore after becoming a human jungle gym, and yet, pain never felt so good! As I attempted time and time about to fall asleep, quiet tears fell down my cheek and hit the pillow. I miss Jamaica so much! 

     Wednesday, July 25, was an early morning. My dear Sister Mary, picked me up from the Motherhouse at 7 and we headed over to the convent for Mass with the sisters. We gathered together for breakfast (I didn't eat because I am such an anxious traveler) and conversation. Before I left, I went around to every single sister in the room and hugged them...twice. Sister Mary was cracking up at my hugginess and my love! We then drove three hours to the airport where we met the other girls coming with us. Our flight from Baltimore to Miami was about two hours and then we had an hour and a half flight to Jamaica. But, by the time we got into Jamaica, it was ten o'clock. We then had a two and a half hour drive to our orphanage. We got picked up from the Montego Bay airport in a small, white "bus" but really it was a twelve passenger van. The two back seats were filled with all the donation bags and Everton. Then, eight of us had to smush together on two rows of seats while Father and two others sat in the front. What an uncomfortable adventure, and yet...I, of course, loved every moment of it. By the time we got to the orphanage, it was almost one in the morning...but midnight in Jamaican time. Our house was three rooms: two bedrooms and a living room/kitchen. The sisters had one room and we had another...five girls and three beds. Two bathrooms, both equipped with showers...which were really pipes out of which cold water poured. Living was simply and easy; I was excited. Once we got settled, I passed out only to wake up at seven US time/six Jamaica time. Needless to say, I was anxious to start my day!

       Our days were filled with eating meals with the children, walking for hours with the children, playing for hours with the children and living twenty-four seven with the children. I loved every minute of it! To be honest, there was no hard adjustment to anything, not even not having a cell phone (that was a relief!) Being around 33 children from ages 2-18 was just like being at a full Gutherman family party with all my cousins!! Every day we would take a walk around the beautiful, mountainous, green, Jamaican land. Sister Mary and I would almost always wind up walking with each other and the little babies. I carried a little one every day whether it was a rambunctious two year old Faith or her twin sister, a sleeping Grace, or three year old Shauniel on my shoulders or his twin sister, Shanta-lee, on my back. Sometimes I had both Faith and Grace. I loved it. I looked so forward to those walks, and I think Sister Mary did, too. Since we had the little ones, we often lagged behind the others and were the last ones back but we talked a lot about so much. I really got to know her as a person and now I love her even more! We would meet so many of the local people on our walks and they were so friendly. On our last day, a young man named Chevron walked with us and talked with us the whole way. Sister Mary thinks he was "taken with me" but since it was the last day in Jamaica, I guess I'll never know for sure! His cornrows were pretty awesome though!!

       After lunch, which was the biggest meal of the day, we would separate into reading groups and I had the little ones: Faith, Grace, Shauniel, Shanta-lee and Dillon (he's four and precious!) Shocker there!! I would gather them all around me, under a palm tree by Chapel and read stories to them. If they sat still and listened carefully  to all four books, they would get a "sweetie" (candy) at the end. They were always so good for me. After reading groups, we would start a craft or activity. We did anything from painting to friendship bracelets to water balloon tosses and soccer games. After dinner we had activities, too, which were sometimes dance parties or more games. Then, when all the little ones went to bed, the older kids would stay up and play cards with us. What fun, honestly! Our meals were anything from pancakes for dinner to porridge for breakfast to a whole fish (fins and tail included) for lunch. Everything always tasted soooooo good! 

       As I write this, tears fill up in my eyes. I wish I could go back and stay for so much longer. I miss my little friends in my reading group especially. They would constantly run into me (literally) and throw their hands up in the air to be picked up. They would cover me in kisses after I taught them how to say "I love you, kisses" and blow kisses, too. They would eat their lollipops while sitting on my lap and slobber all over me and sometimes wash their hands on my legs. They were so easy to love and I did love them...I still do. When I was saying goodbye, both Faith and Grace were swooped up into my arms and immediately they said, "I love you, kisses," and plastered kisses on my cheeks. I cried. 

       The older children were great, too. While I couldn't pick them up or cuddle them, they taught me so much about their lives and culture. One of the older twins, Lamoya, taught me a traditional, Jamaican song in "patois," their language. I mastered it! Another boy, Shyan, could play a guitar and we sang together for a good hour and a half one day! That day, I decided my goal for the year is to learn guitar so I can play for the kids next Summer. Speaking of music, Sunday morning at Mass was beautiful! Ironically, I knew all of the songs and so I sang along with the beautiful Jamaican voices. I was in Heaven! 

        There are so many stories to tell and I'll be telling stories for years of this beautiful place. I wish I could go back for so long and stay among those children! I love them all so much!! And as Soniel, one of the older boys, said to me on the last day, "I wish their was a bridge connecting USA to Jamaica just so we could see each other again." I really wish I could see them all right now! My hips, back and shoulders feel empty without a little one attached to me, and my voice feels like it could really sing a Jamaican spiritual hymn. I miss playing cards with the older children and holding hands with the middle-school kids on our walks. I miss having mystery meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but what I miss the most is the laughter and simplicity. Laughter is my favorite sound and I miss it so much! I can't wait to go back! I am so blessed! 

     

My Partner in Service for the week -Sister Mary

Myself, Sonia and Faith

The Chapel

Myself and Romario

Shauniel

Casually drinking at the pizza place...not me, just Sister. 

Jessica and the bumby bananas

The view from our mountain

Foster, my right-hand man. 

Tamara and Brittany, sisters. 

And the traditional last day picture!

May God Bless The Methodists - A VBS Story of Grace

"Jesus, I give You my heart and my soul.

I know that without God, I'd never be whole. 

Savior, You open all the right doors,

and I thank You and praise You, from earth's humble shores.

Take me, I'm Yours."

- For Those Tears I Died, Marsha J. Stevens

     The first thing people ask when I tell them I just spent a week helping out at Vacation Bible School (which will from here on out be referred to as VBS) is where. While they are usually expecting me to say my Parish, I can only answer: The Methodist Church across the street from my house. You should see the shocked faces. Me? A devout Catholic helping out the Methodists? Who woulda thought? However, those shocked faces were nothing compared to the faces I received the first year I helped with VBS and told the group I was Catholic. I might have given the one lady a heart attack. No, but in all seriousness, it was a shock all around. And yet, I was confused. Just because we were different denominations of Christianity, I didn't see any reason we couldn't easily work together. By the grace of God, I casually mentioned this my first year and within minutes we were faith sharing. By the end of the week, you never would have known there was any difference between us.

     I loved VBS so much my first year, that I went back again to help for a second year. Once again, I was with my first and second graders but we had new teachers. It was that year that I was so blessed to work with Miss Carol and Miss Christine. I've realized that as close-knit as my Parish family is, this church community is even closer. Of course, I am always an odd ball out because I don't attend services there, and so I can easily be pointed out. While I've always been able to stick out in every situation, this one was so different, unique and grace-filled. Miss Carol and I got to bond over tons of things that special week, like dancing to the VBS music videos to sharing our bibles. Of course, I HAD to share my bible with her because I have more books in mine than she does. True story!! However, just like my bible, hers was just as bookmarked, underlined and filled with her favorite verses. It was such a blessed second VBS with that church community!

      Of course, the third time for anything is always the charm and thus, this year at VBS was the most blessed, I believe. Unfortunately, Miss Carol and I didn't get the chance to help the first and second graders together, but she was still there. And let me tell you how much Miss Carol helped me out this past week. On the first day she sought me out just to give me my VBS staff shirt. She's beautiful! In the middle of the week, after all the little children had gone home, we were casually chatting away about God's goodness and suddenly she told me that sometimes, what I post on Facebook, is exactly what she needed to read. Before I knew it, both of us had gentle tears in our eyes. Of course, I went home that night and immediately started writing her a three-page letter on how she has changed my life. 

      You see, Miss Carol accepted me with loving arms and right away put our slight faith differences aside. She agreed with my former statement...why should those slight differences interfere with God's goodness and God's plan. She not only did that for me, but she also allowed me to open my own eyes. Often, I don't think twice about what I post on Facebook or on this blog or on Twitter because it's from my heart and that's all that matters. I never thought it could affect someone else in a positive way or bring them closer to God. But she opened my eyes to this gift which I possess. It's pretty neat I guess. Miss Carol accepted me as me and loved me just as so. 

      So Thursday night, I handed her the letter and left the building. Friday night, as soon as I walked in (that was the day I really needed a hug), she came bustling over and said, "Here's your hug and now let's go talk about your letter." Well, since I really needed the hug and when I'm in that type of mood, I'm like a bubble that once touched I just burst, I held on trying to cover up the tears that were kind of slipping out. So, as I re-gathered my senses, we went up the stairs to the sanctuary where Miss Carol shared her favorite hymn with me; one that always makes her cry. And let me tell you that while I never heard it, or even thought about reading the music, I simply read the words of the hymn. I couldn't help the tears...ok I was literally sobbing reading the beautiful words of this hymn. I posted the third verse above because it is just so fitting. As I was sobbing, the little kids were filing into my pew and Miss Carol had to go solve a major dilemma. Just as I finished sobbing, Miss Carol came back to tell me that she believes I have the heart of an old lady, a wise old, church-going lady, who she can talk to as an equal, not as a mentor to a child. She admitted that it's funny because to her, I am a child, I am only 20 years old (which I think is old but...to each her own) and yet, she doesn't see that in me. She sees someone far beyond her years. 

       Miss Carol not only was an instrument of God when I needed her, but she remains still that gift from God in my life. I know she is praying for me every day and I hope she knows I'm praying for her, too. Of course, I know I can count on her storming Heaven for my service trip in two days. Miss Carol is such a beautiful woman of God, so full of gentleness, love and joy in the Lord!!! I am so blessed by Miss Carol in my life; she is such an inspiration for me. May God bless Miss Carol and may God bless the Methodists; I sure do love them!!!

Isaiah 49 - Never Forgotten

"I will never forget you. I will not leave you orphaned. I will never forget my own."

- Isaiah 49

    Currently, I am soaking in the almost 100 degree warmth in my bedroom. I am daydreaming about my service trip in seven days and I'm reflecting on how great God has been to me in recent days! Just yesterday I was blessed enough to have lunch with one of my dearest sisters. Our lunch was mainly to talk about my recent "quiet" attitude. This quiet attitude is what I consider my true, reflective self. This is when I take a step back and look at where my life has been and where my life is going. In discussing this quietness with my dear sister, a lot spilled out. It was perhaps the deepest conversation that was ever whispered in that restaurant. Even my dear sister said herself, "I never expected this was what we were going to have to talk about." And so, since this blog is about the ups and downs of discernment, I feel comfortable sharing a bit of our conversation with you.

      I can compare the likes of discerning to that of dating. Often we date many people before we find the right one, the one who we will marry. The same is said for discernment. Many times, a young woman discerns with many communities before finding the one which she will enter. Just as I was not a stranger to dating different young men, I have not been a stranger to discerning with different communities. It almost feels as if God has thrown me in the midst of various communities and said, "HELLOOOOO....just take a look at them." And so, "because God said so, I did so." And yesterday's conversation was about my realization that while I may love both communities so dearly, eventually I will have to verbalize the decision God has made for me. Except there's one problem...God hasn't let me in on that decision yet. And so, my discernment journey has been a little bit of a seesaw, too, in addition to the roller coaster. Because some days I feel so willing to enter one community and then other days I feel like God is pulling me towards the other community. Some say my youthful energy belongs with the younger community while others says the older community will benefit from my energy and have a sort of renewal. Some say my creativity fits one community's charism while my love of and for family fits another community's charism. And then there's my love for mission work: do I stay in the US or do I venture out and go international? In addition to these three things there is so much more to consider and discern when looking at communities. And although many people date different people at different times, my discernment of different communities goes on simultaneously. That sort of makes it a little bit harder. 

     However, there is one thing in my discernment of which I was made aware at the very beginning. It's always been sort of whispered in my ear during my deepest moments of prayer that in formation I have a good chance of being alone. This means I might be the only person in my band/group/party (which is why I must pray even more for my future directresses). When I brought this fact up yesterday, Sister reminded me that I will never actually be alone. And then God decided to remind me of that yet again this morning at Mass. The response was Psalm 94 which reads, "God will not abandon His people." As I heard these words repeated over and over and over, I realized...I am not alone. I never will be. 

     Sunday evening my Parish held it's first "Vocation Chat" night during which I was blessed to share my discernment story. I felt so blessed to be surrounded by so many different parishioners. There were the little ones, the teenagers, my family, parents, grandparents, sisters, married people and single people. I always knew my parish supported me in my vocation, but I never really knew how much! This night was a reminder that I am not alone. While I might be alone in my formation, God has not abandoned me. He has given me a beautiful Parish family, a beautiful REAL LIFE family and so many sisters, like my dear Sister from yesterday, to prove that to me. He has not forgotten me for sure, and I am definitely never alone. 

     I can't wait for our next "Vocation Chat" night just so that I can remind my parish how blessed I am to have them!! I am so grateful to God for those reminders that I am not alone and I am so grateful for you because I know if you are reading this, you have at least said a prayer for me!!! Thank you for reminding me that I am never alone. And even though the discernment road does get hard, I am waiting on the Lord to bless me with His decision! 

Something About Sunflowers and Onions

"When a person sees a sunflower, they can't help but smile."

- Anonymous

"Behind every smile is a caring, gentle person."

- Anonymous

    I've known her for only a year and yet, I feel like she's known me my whole life. I've only seen her three times in the past year, including the week I met her, and yet, I feel like I see her all the time. I'm usually so cryptic and thick that I can't be read, and yet, she looks straight through me like she would a window. We share a favorite flower and a favorite hobby: sunflowers and smiling. And I've been told that there is a serious and obvious bond between the two of us. I am so blessed.

    Those who I chatted with prior to what we call CREW know how worried and anxious I was about coming this year. I won't go into too much detail but a lot of it had to do with how I would be rushing from one week event to another week event within twelve hours of each other AND how I haven't seen my dear sisters for a very LONG time. What people don't know is that I was pretty ready to just quit because of the uncomfortable anxiety. However, one sister reminded me how God needed me to go and that not going would be running away. Lord knows I can't run. Sister reminded me that there was one person I needed to see this week and if I didn't go to CREW, I wouldn't see her. So, I went. 

     Already running late for my supposed arrival time, the anxiety within my heart and soul increased as the minutes went by. I parked the car and literally ran to the front door, leaving my things behind. Not until I saw the boss and two of my closest friends did I unpack my things and then my sunflower's things. Although the girls had all arrived and were diligently working on their CREW waves while bringing much excitement to the room, my heart was still anxiety packed. My sunflower had gone to unpack her things in her room while I very quietly and patiently. I listened to the excitement in the room as I worked and then, without warning, my sunflower snuck up behind me without warning. That's when this precious picture was taken. Having her there immediately eased a good amount of my anxiety. There's just something about sunflowers that can do that!

      The night really hit it off well with all of us jumping into the boat with our captain and sharing our first night of prayers. Immediately all of the girls hit it off so well. Before I knew it, we were all exhausted simply from getting to know each other through prayer and ice breakers. Without really realizing it, I had maintained my quiet attitude throughout the night. As we walked toward the staircase, my dearest Sunflower Sister put her arm around my shoulders and whispered, "You and I are going to have to make time this week to chat and catch up. I can see in your heart, you're struggling." I couldn't argue that; she was right. 

      The next two days were packed with activities such as gardening, dancing in the rain, painting over graffiti in Camden, visiting the PINK sisters and going for a CREW swim. She was only staying until Wednesday morning and because of all the activity, we hadn't yet gotten the chance to catch up. Yet, every morning or every time she could, she filled my heart with positive sayings such as: "We're so blessed you're here," "Good morning, Angel," "Thanks for your witness," "You're the best," and most importantly, "You are so loved here." She never failed to give a hug every time she could or just a simple hand to hold. She knew I was struggling with a storm inside and needed a captain to guide me. So, she was subtly sending me the directions I needed to prepare the ship for the storm. 

     By Tuesday night our time was running out. So, right after our late night prayer, I linked my arm with hers and casually asked if she wouldn't mind peeling onions with me. For those of you who don't know this, onions brings tears to one's eyes. Since I'm both an English major and I love to cook, I'm constantly using crazy parallels with food and real life. So, yes, I more or less asked her if she wouldn't mind letting me cry a little on her shoulder. And so, we had our catch up chat which really consisted of me crying while peeling away the layers of my onions, and her steadying my hand as I peeled. And thank God. 

     I don't do tears well, especially in front of people. There are only a select few I've cried in front of and I can count them on one hand. I use only one finger when counting how many I've actually really really really cried in front of...like the whole awkward breathing, snotty nosey, river of tears cry. And that only happens when I peel onions. 

     There is something about sunflowers that let's you know you are safe and sound and protected and loved.  There is something about onions that truly lets you cry. And there is something about peeling onions with a sunflower that truly reveals to you God's love and healing power. I am so blessed to have spent three very special retreating days with a beautiful sunflower. I can't really put into words how grateful I am for her presence in my life, but if we're being honest, let's just say: my ship would have been lost to the storm. 

A Day in the Field of..Parent? - Field Day 2012

“To you who are parents, I say, show love to your children. You know you love them, but make certain they know it as well. They are so precious. Let them know."

- Thomas S. Monson

       At twenty years old, one wouldn't think I know much about motherhood. I've never had a child of my own, true, but when a new baby comes into your family when you're just turning twelve, it kind of turns you into a baby mama. I think the funniest thing is that my mother will admit that I changed more of my little sisters diapers than she did. Ever since she was born, I was right there, doing all kinds of things a mother does for her child, for Lizzie. However, the thing I can't stand is when people actually mistaken me for her mother. Like no...absolutely not. But anyway, I do things as an older sibling that some parents don't even do, especially volunteering at school. 

       When I was in high school the thing I loved to do on my days off was not go shopping or go out with my friends, but rather go to my grade school and volunteer to be "Lunch Mom" or "Lunch Sister" as the kiddies called me or to read for the kids or to help with art projects and gym class. I simply loved it. One of my favorite days of the year was Spirit Day (which many know as Field Day) because I got to face paint all the kids faces. Two of my favorite things put together: painting and little kids. I simply loved all the kids and yes, they loved me back. However, our grade school closed last year and so the kids moved on to different schools. Whenever I'm home now from school, I don't volunteer as much because I don't know where to start. I do play taxi though for my little sister and sometimes we will go to Mass at the Parish before school so the parishioner's started to know my face. 

        Two weeks into my summer vacation, my little sister brought home a volunteer form for Field Day. I signed it right away before my mom could even get to it. All I knew was that this was my chance; my chance to see my little ones and my chance to finally get my foot in the door at Lizzie's new school. It didn't even cross my mind that I wouldn't know ANY of the parents there...but there were some that I did know: the sisters. I wasn't even nervous about going into the school. I was about to do something I loved; something that I know is a foreshadowing of my future as an educator and as a sister. 

       So, the day finally came. Lizzie and I headed to Mass where I got mistaken once more as Lizzie's mom, but that was quickly corrected. The sisters all made sure they said their hello, giving me some extra love because they knew I needed it. I dropped her off and then headed home to get ready; I had an hour to kill. At quarter til nine, I hopped in the car and headed back to school where I proceeded to the cafeteria where I knew only one other person. I got my score card and schedule for Lizzie's class and we were ready to go. Our team was a mix of kids I knew from our grade school and kids from the new grade school. By the end of the day all of them were more than willing to hang out with me on a daily basis as they all asked me to come back and play with them. Could I say no? Of course not! 

       The day was filled with many games and many tragedies averted. Let me tell you, when you are eight years old everything seems like a potential tragedy. However, my motherly instincts (and my many education classes) helped avoid all of those potential tragedies. At the end of the sports events, we all sat on the black top and ate our lunches. All the kids learned a little bit about sharing that day, too. After lunch we headed in for the dance party that the principal, Sister Kathleen, put on for the Pre-K - Third Grade kids. What joy filled my heart to see not only the kids dancing and having such a great time but the sisters, too. I got to dance with my favorite little guy, Liam, who is in Pre-K and knew all the words to every song they played; I was in love with the blessings I had been given. 

        The whole day was a true blessing. It felt so great to be back in an atmosphere in which I was so comfortable and which I missed so much while being away at school. As elementary as some college students can be, it doesn't quite measure up to the innocence and playfulness of a second grader. I sincerely missed the whole scene and just the love the kids bring into my life. I couldn't stop thanking God yesterday!

         Aside from loving being back in the scene as "The Best Big Sister Ever," I was so blessed to be with the sisters yesterday as well. Seeing them not only at Mass in the morning, but throughout the whole day was simply a blessing. Our principal, Sister Kathleen made sure she stepped out of her busy day to thank me and congratulate me on my First Field Day at the school. Both Sister Jean and Sister Katherine stopped me in the lunch line to chat for a few minutes about life. And Sister Katherine later joined me on the dance floor with my little Liam. The fact that they barely know me aside my perpetual supply of cookies for their convent, and yet, they went out of their way to get to know me that day was beyond a blessing. It's sisters like that who truly fill my heart with joy; going out of their way just to share the love and give a smile. My favorite sister moment of the day however, were not the lunch line chats or morning pats on the back, but the smile on Sister Jean's face when I had been dancing with Liam, myself on my knees to be on his level, and we were singing our hearts out just having fun. For a quick second I looked over to see if his mom was anywhere around and instead found Sister Jean's loving smile. She had been watching the two of us dance together the whole song. She winked at me and smiled. I went back to dancing. When I looked again, she was gone. Yeah, that was kind of perfect!

           I think the best part of my day was the ability to spread the love. I love the above quote that tells parents to remind their kids how loved they are; it's true. And at Field Day I was able to spread that love and remind the children how much I love them, how perfectly precious they are. And a child for sure, knows when he or she is loved by someone; they give great hugs. And so, while I'm not physically a mother, there's a mother in my heart that got an awful lot of hugs yesterday. And while many may tell me I'll make a good mother, because I would make a good mother, I'll make a great sister for all those kids who will cross my path and bless my life. Here's to the love of children.

    Just a head's up: the blog will be quiet for a little while as I'm headed to New Orleans, Louisiana for some Hurricane Katrina Relief Ministry with school...and with my Daddy. Look forward to all those pictures and plenty of blog posts about my trip!! Can't wait for Service Project Number Two of Summer 2012. We leave at 9:25 tomorrow morning, so all your prayers are greatly appreciated, especially since Papa Guth hates flying!! Lots of love in Jesus Christ. Also, Happy Memorial Day to you all and a great big thanks to our military and veterans!!!

Party Rockin' In the Church, Today...KATHARINE DREXEL!!!

‎"I looked up in wonder at god's wonderful ways and thought how littler we imagine what may be the result of listening and acting on a desire God puts into the heart."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     

     Every once in a while, you get blessed with an experience of a lifetime. While, I've had many of those in my lifetime, one of them stands out as yesterday we celebrated St. Katharine Drexel's Feast Day! A little over ten years ago, little third grader me, traveled to Roma, Italy with my familia for a very special occasion. This occasion was the CANONIZATION of our dear Katie D! What an amazing experience!! 

     Ever since I was a wee child, I grew up with the reminder of Katie D. But for the longest time she was Blessed Mother Katharine Drexel, the nun who built a convent in which I found lots of cookies. Hers was a convent I frequented often as a little one, always visiting nuns. But, I never really got to know Katharine until my later years (later meaning high school, of course). 

     I remember once specific Feast Day Mass, at the Cathedral in the city, when I was interviewed by the Catholic Standard. I had left school early that day, so I was in my school uniform. Right away, that draws a reporter to a kid. WHY would the average high school student take off school for an event like Mass? Well, my answer: Why not? This is awesome! She laughed and right away decided I was a down to earth type girl, who would answer any of her questions. She asked what I studied in school, she asked what my family was like, and finally, she asked what my full name was. She almost had a heart attack when I told her. Yep, I was a Gutherman! What had seemed like the end of the interview with the last question, immediately prompted a whole new interview. The final question this time: What is your relationship with Katharine Drexel? My answer: Right now, I'm working on my relationship with my main Man upstairs, the big JC. As for Katie D, she's someone I look up to, but I don't have a too personal relationship with her. Other than that answer giving my dad a heart attack when he read it, my answer prompted me to discover a bit more about Katie D and develop a relationship with her.

      I already knew her story, and my dad's story by heart. But I needed a story, and so, I decided from that moment on, I would do all I could to make it possible. Having a driver's license helped a lot with that. I was able to drive by the Shrine whenever I felt like it or even go to Mass with the sisters there as well. I read more about Katharine's writings and developed that relationship. Now, she isn't St. Katharine Drexel to me...she is Katie D; my girl, Katie D!

      And so, because she's my girl, Katie D, I can say how there was a Party Rockin' in the Church yesterday for her Feast Day mass! If you've ever wanted a multicultural experience, her Chapel on her feast day is one for sure. I was surrounded by Native Americans, African Americans, Asian Americans...oh, and Americans. There was laughter, conversation, food, prayer, singing. EVERYTHING! And the first thing I said to Sister when I walked in was, "Holy Smokes, Katie D is kickin' in Heaven today!" And she agreed! I was so happy to be surrounded by so much excitement! And as I sat with my little sis on my lap, we looked up to the room built over the Chapel where Katharine would watch Mass when she was sick, so see the silhouette of sister waving at us! 

      There is something so peaceful about walking the same hallways as Katharine did and sitting in her pews and touching the walls she built and praying where she prayed. She is my girl, and she's with me all the time! And her words are the words I must truly live my life by: "We must attract them with Joy!" Happy Feast, Girl!