B-E-A-U-tiful

"We are all different, too big, too small, too short, too tall. But the beauty of it is that God is still waiting for us anyway."

- S. Natanaela

     My most recent adventures have included a week long intensive course on Beauty and a spur of the moment road trip to Chicago with a nun. Has much changed in my life? Nope. Not at all. While I have been busier than ever in my life, God is still moving in my heart. My course was extremely difficult for me because of many reasons such as the length and intensive nature of the course, as well as the concepts presented. So many times the lectures consisted of various conventions of beauty - how one can label something beautiful. Some presented various definitions of what beauty is, some offered conceptions of beauty and some even gave instances of "real" art versus kitsch. Naturally, I disagreed with most of what was presented because I come from the viewpoint that what is beautiful to me might not be beautiful to someone else. I struggled a lot with the class but the following week of spur of the moment adventures gave me a whole new vantage point of beauty; one that confirmed my own personal beliefs of beauty. 

     My class presented various paintings, images, pieces of art, some literature and even music to us under different lights - good, bad, real, kitsch. I found myself in awe of some beautiful religious paintings while other people thought they were awful. I found certain pieces of music to be beautiful and for others it was painful. On the flip side, some people thought some pieces of music were so outrageously gorgeous while I felt like my ears were bleeding. As a musician, I felt like I had the upper hand. Of course, this isn't meant to be a rant about how much I pretty much hated my class. So I'll steer away from that now. What I want to get across is that what is beautiful to me might not be beautiful to another person. What I find to be the most beautiful things in life, like laughter, sunsets, ripples in the lake, holding hands, and even the faces of those I love, might not be the most beautiful things for others. Of course, for me, beauty is found in the simplest things. I don't need art and music to connect my soul with the divine. I need simply to be made aware by the presence of another soul. 

     My faith in beauty was restored the following week when I found myself driving 13.5 hours to Chicago on a grand adventure. It was a spur of the moment trip with one of my Sisters. I jokingly suggested we go, she jokingly said ok and then eventually we found ourselves traveling at the crack of dawn. She kept saying how hard it was to believe she was there...me, too. Did I really just drive halfway across the country with a nun in my car to go visit more nuns? Yep. Did I love every second of it? Yep. Was I prepared for what the week had in store for me? Absolutely not. 

     When we eventually arrived at the convent, we were greeted so warmly as friends, as sisters. I truly believe that the nuns helped shape me into the person I am today...the person who believes that food is love. I pretty sure every second I wasn't eating, I was asked if I was hungry! But that wasn't the best part; I was also taught how to make some perfect Polish dishes. I cannot wait to try them at home. After we had dinner together with the community, we headed on another adventure. It was during these few days of adventuring all over Illinois, that I had to come up with a paper for my past week's class. In my reflections on beauty I realized some most amazing things. 

      With my sisters, the conventions of beauty do not exist. By this I mean, I barely had to look in the mirror. It didn't matter if I didn't wear make-up, had frizzy hair, or even if I wore the same outfit twice in one week. I looked at my sisters, who in the morning, were just as stinky breathed, frizzy haired, and groggy-eyed as I was. There was no questioning my need for adventure when I jumped in the water fully clothed. It didn't matter how much or how little I ate, how skinny or how fat I was. It didn't matter if my hair stuck out in all the wrong places even though it was in a ponytail. The worldly conventions of beauty did not matter with them and it's not because we were at the convent. Yes, it's true that sisters don't necessarily abide by the worldly conventions of beauty. But the reason I felt so beautiful in my Sisters' presence was because of their radiating beauty. 

      There was beauty in every story they told me about religious life, about their journey to meeting God, about the ups and downs of their day to day life. I found particular beauty in the way they spoke about the hardships they encountered and still experience. I discovered that my Polish sisters are some of the strongest women I know because of all the sacrifices they have made for their vocation. There was beauty in every moment of laughter and trust me, we laughed a lot. I laughed until it hurt. I laughed until I had tears rolling down my cheeks. There was beauty in every Polish accented English word. There was beauty in every search for proper vocabulary. There was beauty in every step we took together or moment we spent. There was even beauty in the silence, too. 

       Many days we visited different holy places, different churches and shrines. In these moments at Mass or in adoration, I prayed so hard. So much was put on my heart, especially in terms of beauty. Religious life is not easy. This is something I have always known. But there is a beauty in it. As Sister David would say, "It's been hard, but I wouldn't change it for the world." I saw the beauty in their deep relationships with God and with one another. I felt beautiful simply by being in their presence. Whether we were walking together, talking together, sitting together, swimming together, whatever, there was beauty. They know that the beautiful is God's creation. The trust in His promise and His endless beauty. There really are no words to describe the feeling of true beauty, except that I know these women are some of the most beautiful women I know. 

       My week was a beautiful retreat in a way, despite it being so full of adventure. I was able to focus so clearly on God this past week. I felt peace and true beauty in being able to be my true self - obnoxious laugh and all. I felt so free in ways indescribable. I felt the love from the Father above and from my Sisters. I felt such immense peace from Jesus. There were many conversations I had that lead me in many reflective ways. Whether it was, "God already knows...you just have to answer," or "I don't think it's a matter of if, but when," I was lead back down the roads from which I have felt distance. I allowed myself to be curious about religious life again and pray like I had once before - freely, openly, with tears, with pain, with happiness. To say this past week was a blessing is an understatement...it was so much more. 

       Toward the end of the week, I found myself entering into conversations I never could have imagined. Conversations that involved me to be so vulnerable and so open with my Sisters. I have kept so much in my heart and pondered my thoughts, but I never spoke them. In my conversations I released some pains, some frustrations but mostly my joys of peace and knowledge of the Lord in my life. My Sisters allowed me to be dramatic at times, laugh and joke, and share my heart. They, in turn, shared their hearts with me. I never expected that such deep, positive relationships could come from this week, but God had different plans. 

      My Sisters opened yet another window to beauty for me. They reminded me that I do not need to be perfect to be loved. They reminded me that the worldly conventions of beauty are impossible and that I am beautiful in my own ways. They reminded me that it's okay to not know what I'm doing with me life, to be afraid, to be scared. But they also reminded me that peace comes from within, from my own relationship with God. Peace doesn't come from making other people happy. Peace and beauty exist when I allow myself to be freely me. They showed me this by their most beautiful example. 

      If I could define beauty, if I could find the right words to even describe this week, I would say, that my Sisters are beauty. They are the pathways to the divine. They are example of service, sacrifice, struggle, and strength. They are my crutch when I need them. They are my best friends. They are my Sisters and I feel so incredibly blessed to have them in my life. They have been examples of joy and peace...what happens when one surrenders to God's will. And at this moment, I feel like saying, "I'm back in the game!" I'm back in touch. I've wiped the dust from my feet. I'm ready to do His will, whatever it may be. Because at this moment, I feel peace, joy, and above all, beauty. True beauty; His beauty. There aren't adequate words to truly and fully describe how God moves the heart. But I can say that His moving in my heart lead me to tears many times this week and that's better than any words. I tried my best, but nothing will ever truly grasp how beautiful God's presence in my life was this week. 

The Last First Week of School Tears

"For College Seniors, there should be a week

of just being able to cry. Just break down and cry

because you are scared and don't know what's next."

- Bill Crosby

A View of Back Campus

     I have been here for just over two weeks and already it feels like Mid-October. No, not temperature-wise, but rather on the scale of syllabus week - final week. I have literally only been in classes for four days and already, my brain is experiencing sensory overload. I couldn't wait to get back into the classroom, a yearly recurring theme in my life every August. I was anxious to see my friends, see my Sisters, see my professors and of course, get my nose in some more books to learn so much more than I ever thought I could. I was anxious to get Move-In week over with if only so I could find my front row seat in all my classes and start soaking in all the wisdom of my professors. I had my FDO (First Day Outfit) planned out the night before and my back-pack was all ready to go. I climbed into bed knowing how blessed I was to be back at IU for another year. The next morning I woke up to a million and one facebook statuses from my friends: Happy Last First Day of School, Class of 2014. Wait...what? Instant panic. 

     Okay, so I had thought about it many times, but it was too far away to be real. I kept saying all Summer: I'll be a Senior in the Fall. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Senior year whatever. But then all of a sudden, it's no longer "I'll be," it's "I am." Suddenly, I'm not longer a Senior wannabe, but rather the real thing. Suddenly, I'm no longer watching with admiration, the older and wiser students on campus, but rather, I am the older and the wiser (that's debatable.....). So much seemed to have changed in just a matter of a few hours. And boy oh boy was my heart beginning to feel it.

      I remember promising myself that I was going to make this year, my last year of college, the best one. I told myself I would stay up late at night just talking with my friends, only to get up and try to function properly in a few hours later for class. I told myself I would go every place I got the chance to go, I would do anything I could, I would go to any soccer/volleyball/basketball game, I would try out for the musical, I would be there for my friends, I would spend more time with my Sisters across the street, at Camilla and on campus, I would do all these things and more. I had this mentality that this was going to be the best year. Crying during the first week of school was not on the agenda. Therefore, when I felt the increasing need to cry, I refused to let myself do so. 

      Well, the promise not to cry during the first week of school lasted about ten hours. I had gone through the first day of classes and was in the car heading to my grandparents for dinner. I had the country music station on and suddenly, the tears were streaming down my face. I laughed at myself and wiped the tears away promising myself it wouldn't happen again that week. I mean seriously, if I cried the first week of school, what did that mean for the rest of the school year? 

       Crying, I have not always believed, is a true way of cleansing the soul. And I think this week, the urge to cry has simply come from the need to cleanse myself of the paranoia of Senior Year Stress Syndrome. You know, when all of a sudden you are met with the desire to do nothing but the need to do everything and anything. Of course, I have to admit that my Senior Year is going to be way different than everyone else's. You see, Senior Year means something so much more to me than simply finishing school. 

       For me, finishing school gives me another step closer to pursuing my vocation as a religious sister. And that scares the daylights out of me. Of course, it also means finding a job, paying off loans, living on my own, finding a place to live on my own, getting certified as a real teacher, etc. But it also means that the reality of my vocation coming into fruition is even closer. And what is sooooooo scary about that is that I still have no idea what I am doing with my life. All I know is that God's got this....He better, because I sure don't. 

     This week has truly been a very human week for me. While my friends are talking about getting good paying jobs, getting engaged, starting families, I'm just over like "Hey...I wanna be a nun..." and it's like Jesus popped the question, I said yes, but suddenly He wants to start planning for a wedding and I'm like, "Dude, I've got school to worry about." He understands but He keeps asking me if I thought of where we're going to have the wedding, what my dress is going to look like, if I thought about names, and I just want to breathe. He's an anxious bridegroom. I mean, let's be honest....I understand. He makes me smile, and I know all He wants is for me to be His forever and ever and ever, but right now, I tell Him to wait a little longer. I love Him more than anything, anyone, any place, and yet, I'm still reserved. Why is there a part of that is still saying, "I just don't know...." Well, because suddenly these ideas of getting married to Jesus, are no longer ideas, but rather realities at the tip of my finger and suddenly, I'm not sure if I'm ready for this. 

       Then someone tells me to breathe, that there is still time. That's when I cry....It seemed so obvious, so real, so true and real person life is coming at me much quicker than I thought possible. Yes, I am still a student, but there is a lot more on my mind than most Seniors in my class. And yet, I know God's got this. I can cry, I can talk it out, but in the end, I know that God has full control over this. So, I said to Him, listen, my friend, you plan the wedding. I'll focus on school, You plan the wedding. He's so anxious....I think it's pretty cute. 

      Of course, He agreed but then also reminded me that for me, as a future teacher, there is no such thing as the last first week of school. I'll have last first weeks forever.