Down By The River

"But I love Your feet 

only because they walked 

upon the earth and upon 

the wind and upon the waters 

until They found me."

- "Your Feet," Pablo Neruda

     I feel the closest to God on two occasions: when I'm walking barefoot on the earth (in particular near water) and during Lent/Holy Week/Easter. On Tuesday, when I was late for class because I was too busy bonding with Sister Cathy, she told me to find the perfect spot for my Resurrection cup of coffee. I was told at the beginning of Lent that if I was being a cross to bear for others due to my Lenten sacrifice, I must give up giving up what I gave up for Lent. All of this being said, I should have felt extremely close to God these past forty days and especially during these past few days of Triduum. 

     Maybe you remember how Lent started: bitter cold in the first week of March. We had just celebrated the feast of St. Katherine Drexel and I spent the weekend before in Kensington for our Alternate Spring Break Weekend. These two events, while simple in nature, played a HUGE part in my decision and prayer for how I was going to spend the forty days of Lent. While in Kensington, I met a man whose foot was wrapped in a plastic, black trash bag and was using crutches to get from place to place. As I sat in my corner in the "dining room" with my new friends, I also watched this man. He couldn't have been much older than me, maybe only a few years. He sat weary, somewhat withdrawn. Thomas was his name and I remember thinking then, how much he looked like Jesus on His way to Calvary. Later, when we were sharing around the dinner table did I learn that this man had gotten frost bite on his foot because he didn't have proper shoes for the harsh winter that had been pummeling the Northeast this year. 

     On Sunday, I woke up early and drove home from school to the convent. Shocking, I know, that the first place I would go would be a convent and not my own house. But in truth, this convent was a home to my heart. It was the feast day of St. Katherine Drexel and there was a special Mass in her honor at the Shrine (and the convent of many of my beloved SBS Sisters). As a kid, I remember always being fascinated by the articles of clothing worn by Katie D. Most fascinating were her habit, which shows how tiny of a woman she was (if I stand next to the window casing, I line up perfectly with where her face would have peeked out from behind her veil), and her shoes, the only pair she ever wore. Katie D was a simple woman. The story about her shoes goes (loosely) like this: she had one pair of shoes and whenever they would start to fall apart, she would take a needle and thread to them so as to sew the leather back together. They were perfectly find in her mind and so she didn't need a new pair. Besides why replace that which can be fixed? On her feast day, I allowed myself a visit to the crypt where her habit and shoes are on display for the public. As I looked at Katie D's shoes, I remembered Thomas and then I looked at my own feet, protected by some pair of shoes. I counted my blessings.

      In a few days, I would be struggling with what on earth I was to give up for Lent. I knew I was going to give up coffee, but that was a tradition. I needed something else to do. I searched the internet for suggestions and found something that sparked my interest: shoes. Hmm...could I really give up shoes? Especially since it was the dead of winter in the Northeast and when I would be going to Minnesota in a few days? Well, no. I couldn't exactly give up my shoes BUT I could give up all my shoes but one pair. I have often been told that the hardest thing for me when I enter the convent will be giving up my fashion sense (although some might argue that I don't have one). I never really thought about how many pairs of shoes I owned, but when I looked in my closet to start packing for Minnesota, I realized that I actually might have a problem. Three pairs of boots, multiple pairs of flats and sandals, some heels, etc. So, I packed my bag, and put a single pair of shoes on my feet: my black flip flops. As I was standing at the train station getting ready to head to the airport, my mother called me crazy when she saw my feet. I just laughed. I couldn't wait to hear what the nuns had to say.

      I flew into Chicago, which, as you may know, is always slightly colder than good ol' PA. When I landed, my AE, who loves flip flops as much as me, said she hoped I had another pair of shoes in my bag. I just laughed. Nope. The next morning, when I was boarding the plane to Minnesota with Sister Angela, she, too, mentioned a hope of another pair of shoes in my bag. Again, I laughed. When we landed, I noticed lots of snow and ice on the ground. Well, this will be interesting, I thought to myself. I didn't even pack another pair of "just in case" shoes. I was going big or going home. 

     Those first few days of Lent in Minnesota were hard, I must admit. There was snow everywhere but lucky for me, it was the first few days above freezing Minnesota had seen all winter. Sister Angela got used to my shoeless feet and shrugged every time another Sister at the NCSW Conference asked me if my feet were cold and/or if I was crazy. I laughed. I always answered no. But no one ever really asked me why I wasn't wearing my shoes. I was still at the point in Lent where I wasn't sure what my bigger sacrifice was: not wearing shoes OR the nuns harassing me about my feet. At that moment I was stuck in the middle. There was lots of snow on the ground and there were a lot of nuns near by. But actually, it hadn't been that bad. First week of Lent with no shoes and no coffee was actually a breeze (not a winter wind). 

      I headed back to school after my adventure to Minnesota and was so blessed to experience my first Lent 2014 daily Mass in Marian chapel...that is, the chapel in the building in which I live. I wore my flip flops like a champ down the halls and through Mass. After Mass, Sister Monica Joseph asked if my feet were cold. "Oh no, Sister, I live in this building. Is it cold outside?" I said. She rolled her eyes at me and another Sister laughed. I walked back up to my room for my post-Mass nap without thinking twice of the conversation. As of then, the only side effect of flip-flopped feet for Lent was cold feet between the buildings. 

      A few days later, I started to experience what any devoted flip flop wearer experiences: the stretching of the arches on his or her feet. I began to realize how high the arches on my feet were and had to wrap my foot. In addition, my feet were beginning to be harassed by the cold weather and wet snow: they were cracking. At least they were trying to adapt. Lent was starting to get a little painful by week three. Although, I started to get a kick out of Sister Elaine who would comment on my toenail polish every week. You see, she sits in the first row of chairs in Marian chapel and when I would walk by after communion, she would sneak a peek at my feet. After Mass, she would comment with the color of the week. And on one particular snowy morning, Sister Marita Carmel enjoyed being a reprimanding mother by telling me I needed to get my common sense in check and find a better Lenten practice. 

     Of course nothing quite beats the night I was leaving a Campus Ministry event with the nunnies and we noticed the flurries. I offered my arm to those I was worried about falling and Sister Cathy graciously linked mine. She happened to look at my feet and asked if I was cold. I said, "it's all relative." Of course, she asked why I was wearing flip flops...so I had to tell her. A few minutes after that, I linked all the nunnies together and told them to be careful as they walked the rest of the way to the convent. I prayed none of them would slip for the snow was particularly slippery that night. And as I thought that, my feet went out from under me and I enjoyed a nice heart attack as I grabbed the railing. 

     On Palm Sunday, I entertained the nunnies by requesting Sister Selfies from them. I have always enjoyed being a source of entertainment for the nunnies. That Sunday was no different. As I knelt on the floor next to Sister Pat, our president, and Sister Marita Carmel, the rest of the nunnies gather around me and I said, "Okay Sisters, make sure you can see yourself on the screen." Six Sisters and a Joe Conte fit themselves into the screen. Of course, Sister Pat then asked for her own selfie with me. Wow, what an honor. So, for the next few minutes, we took Becca and Sister selfies. When I took mine with Sister Marita Carmel, the sister who ever so kindly and motherly told me to pick a new Lenten practice, told me, "Next Sunday, you better have shoes on your feet, child of God." I promised to send her a picture but I decided I'll probably just send her this blog post! Hi, Sister. I have shoes on my feet today and they're orange, just as promised. 

     Lent was almost over and every day last week in Sister Cathy's office, we mentioned coffee. She asked how I was surviving. I honestly had no idea. Between the bare feet and the lack of elixir of life, I should have been severely ill or something. But the grace of God sustained me, I am sure of it. On Tuesday she told me that I should plan out a perfect place to enjoy my Resurrection coffee. I hadn't thought about it too much until this morning...Of course, I was reminded of the need to find a special place when I read her Easter card in which she mentioned that Resurrection coffee. 

     As I was standing in the kitchen, with my Easter shoes on, I thought of my place for Resurrection coffee. Mid-Mass, while sitting in the pew with the memorial plaque for my Gutherman Grandparents in it (a way to spend the Holy Day with them, too), it hit me: down by the river. Of course, when I thought that, I couldn't help but hear my SEARCH VI leaders sing and shout "DOOOOOOOOWN BY THE RIIIIVEEEEER." I laughed and then, when I got home, brewed my "Peru San Ignacio" fair trade coffee. When it was finished, I added a little sweetness and got my sister in the car to drive to the River. There, I stood feeling the breeze off the river, with my orange, sunshine Easter shoes and cup of coffee, enjoying that first taste of coffee in forty days. My sister, meanwhile, took her shoes off and had her feet down in the mud by the water. I watched her, took a few pictures, and smiled. These were simple times. 

      I stood there thinking about the journey my feet had taken, the pain they endured and the suffering in solidarity with Christ. I stumbled upon a Neruda poem called "My Feet" halfway through Lent and smiled as it reminded me of Jesus. His feet had walked upon the water, but on the way to Calvary, He walked barefoot upon the wind and the earth. His feet probably looked a bit worse after a few hours than mine did after forty days. But during those forty days, my feet cracked, they bled, they were cold and a bit frozen (I'm not sure how I avoided frostbite), and they were definitely dirty all the time. As I watched my Sister, I wanted so badly to take my shoes off and jump into the river mud and water with her. I thought about how I came to the decision to give up shoes for Lent. I thought about Thomas who probably didn't have a new pair of shoes yet and I thought of Katie D who had a single pair of shoes for years. The more I thought, the more I wanted to take my shoes off, the more I felt constrained. 

      We got into the car and I let my Sister drive to Bristol (she just recently got her permit....ah). As we drove, "This Is How Country Feels" came on the radio during which Randy Houser says something about digging feet in the river mud. I smiled because even though Croydon is suburbia, it truly has the country small town feel. I grew up not wearing shoes for most of the summer and with my bare feet in the river mud. I never feel as free as I do when I'm not wearing shoes. I felt so one with God in that moment by the river with my feet in the mud. But I felt even more free after spending Lent essentially barefoot because not only did I share in the shoelessness of Christ, but also of Thomas and of Katie D. I understood what it meant to not really have a choice in shoe wear. I understand the pain of calloused and bruised feet. I understood the pain of the homeless in the dead of Winter. I understood the blessing of being able to choose to take my shoes off and stand in the river mud. But most of all because of all this, I felt freely bathed in the grace of God. Happy Easter...take your shoes off for a while. 

I Wonder If Mary and Jesus Would Like Coffee?

"Behind every successful woman is a substantial amount of coffee."

- Stephanie Piro

     Imagine this scene: you are exhausted from your week of adventures and it's 8:55 on a Saturday morning. The only thing you want to do is go back to bed and sleep the day away. But you can't. You made a promise to be present at a Parish event. Dragging your feet down the stairs to the Church Hall, you smell your first whiff of coffee. That very moment, the moment the beauteous scent of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nose, you know it's going to be a great day!

     Today I was fortunate enough to spend my Saturday in retreat with the Ladies Auxiliary of my Parish. The moment I turned eighteen I was told I was going to be enlisted into the names of the Ladies making me their youngest member. While I'm not home for most of the meetings and such because of school, I was blessed enough to be home for the 1st Annual Ladies Spirituality Day. As I made my way into the Church Hall, I found myself "blessed among the women" and was proudly the youngest lady there (shocker!!!). The retreat reflection circled around the Eucharist (coincidentally, what my retreat reflection was last weekend) and Family Life. In the middle of our day, we were given a paper with five words on it and encouraged to write down our personal reflection. Beings that I'm both an English major and a Theology minor, I found no difficulty with this. As I was furiously writing things down, the ladies were all watching me intently until one of them told me to spill. So spill I did, and the conversation went from there. Of course, I had to keep some of the good things for the group sharing part and when the time came for that, share I did. Not thinking anything of the age difference between myself and these women, I shared just as I would if I were on a discernment retreat or on a retreat with my friends for school; honestly. When the day was over, one of the ladies stopped me to thank me for my presence and my reflections. She told me that is was one of the most refreshing experiences she has had for a while. And so, I can't go without sharing some of my reflections on here...

    One of the first quotations Father used was, "To become that which they eat and that which they drink." (St. Augustine) From there, reflection on the day took the Eucharist as the real presence. We, as Catholics, say we believe in the TRUE and REAL presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. And yet we are blocked by truly seeing that real presences because so often, we find ourselves in the obligatory state of mind at Mass and not the privileged. However, being able to go to Mass is such a privilege and when we realize that, we experience the realization of the true presence of Jesus because we are finally truly present. Jesus gives us the beautiful example of being truly present, how we should really be with one another. So often we are distracted by our cell phones or the internet (admittedly it takes me twice as long to write a blog post when I have facebook open...it's open now) or even our daily, busy lives. We are constantly worrying about where and when we have to go instead of enjoying where we currently are. We so often need to just take the time to be really present. And by being present, we are being Eucharist for others; we are carrying the message of the Eucharist...just like Mary, the Mother of God. 

      The second half of the day Father has us reflect on the Visitation. Mary did not go to HELP Elizabeth but rather just to visit and be. Good thing for that teenager there were no cell phones. Elizabeth was an older woman, and an older relative. As much as teens love their grandparents, their presence with their grandparents is almost none existent because of the phone in their pocket. Perhaps the same would have been for Mary? Mary gives us the example of how two people can be truly present with one another. She was literally carrying the message of the Eucharist, the child Jesus within her womb, and she was being Eucharist for Elizabeth. Father then encouraged us to imagine ourselves within the scene. 

      It was so easy for me to imagine myself as Mary, the young visiting the older. Right away I imagined, not two women carrying on a conversation as they might have, but at a little coffee shop on a cute street corner or even in the kitchen on an early morning. Most people don't know this, but the reason I started drinking coffee was because of the sisters. It started while I was helping with retreat for the week last summer. Every morning the sisters would come down into the kitchen (my favorite room in any house), start the coffee and then, when it was ready gather round the little table just to morning chat. Of course, no one was dressed yet; it was a morning pajama party. And so, that idea of having coffee with Mary and Elizabeth was so easily formed in my mind. I find myself so often saying to another when we want to get together: "Let's grab coffee somewhere and visit." I can find myself going to visit the sisters after Mass and drinking coffee at the morning breakfast table, or headed to visit the elderly sisters and drinking coffee, or spending the day with the Ladies Auxiliary bonding over coffee or with my friends, de-stressing and really being present with one another over ... coffee. It's so easy for me to be truly present with another person over coffee (or over a meal is someone doesn't like coffee). Father said, "When we turn our biblical figures into supernatural superheroes, we fail to see their holiness in the ordinary sense and then we fail to see our own ordinary holiness." We so often hold Mary on a pedestal, and although rightfully so, we do so while forgetting her humanness. If Mary and Elizabeth were around today, they could easily be those two pregnant family members hanging out at the cute corner coffee shop. We read in the Scripture that Elizabeth was honored by Mary's visit because she was truly present. We should be able to make others feel honored by our visit but the only way we can do that is be truly present. And we can only be truly present when we turn off our cell phones, turn off the computers, take off our watches and nurse a cup of coffee for a few hours with another person simply sharing time and life. I think having a coffee date can easily be a way to be truly present to another especially since coffee is supposed to awaken our senses anyway.

     One final thing Father mentioned was about a priest he read about who liked to smoke a cigarette and drink some scotch while reading his prayers at night. And when he told his confessor, the confessor said, that he should stop and focus more on the prayers instead of the cigarette and scotch. I laughed because whenever I'm down the shore, I take my prayer book and a mug of fresh, warm coffee to the beach to pray. I never actually thought my coffee drinking would interfere with my prayers. In fact, I always thought of it as a cute little coffee date with Jesus, the love of my life. Hmm...I wonder if He would like coffee????

Coffee, Monks, Books and Sashays...A Story About Grace

           Word on the homefront has been...quiet, si. But not because I have nothing to say. When do I ever have NOTHING to say? Even in my sleep, I talk (awkward). Truth is, I've been monking, reading and sashaying this past week and achieving much grace because it. How? Keep reading.
           When you work for Campus Ministry, you can almost always assume (alliteration!) that you will, in some way, be roped into everything Campus Ministry does or guilt-tripped for it afterward. And so, I was a student leader for our Annual Freshmen Retreat. Having gone on the retreat last year, I knew exactly what was supposed to happen...so I thought. After finally agreeing to leading it, my three friends and I, questioned what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. It was a hectic three days before the retreat actually took place with multiple shopping runs, binder making, speech writing and so much more. By Friday afternoon, I was just about ready to quit, I was so stressed. But then, two of my best guy friends pulled in the Coffee Shop, made me get out and get a coffee. The moment the warm, fuzzy elixir rolled into my stomach, things started looking up. PRAISE GOD. Coffee can seriously do wonders. As soon as the coffee was in my system, I was ready. I was ready of a weekend of renewal.
             What always surprises me is not how much the leaders affect the retreatants but vice versa. My small group was absolutely amazingly inspiring. These students made things so real for me. And not only that, it was amazing listening to my peers as they gave their speeches. As best friends as we are, we all hold secrets and those secrets tend to come out when you bring down those walls. Needless to say, I know my friends a lot better now. And then there's our group leader, my work study nun. The nun who became more real to me on this trip than any other. She stole our s'mores right out of our hands like our crazy aunt, she tickled our feet like our loving mother, she uplifted us like our favorite teacher and made beds with us like the perfect nun would. Can you guess which one of the leaders she made the beds with? Yep, OCD me. Being on this retreat, at the quiet abbey, waking up the steady tolling of the Lauds bells, opened my eyes more than any experience so far this year.
               Ok, so retreat was excuse number one. Now for number two. Classes started this week. Can I tell you that I'm taking SEVEN classes and FIVE of them are on Monday. And since all but two are English courses, I've had book upon book upon book piled on top of me! So far, I'm going to be reading four books a week. So...I've been reading and doing homework.
              And finally, the Sashay's. I just came from my Phys. Ed class where we learned to Cuban Cha Cha and Sashay. Truth is, I was a bit disappointed because my best friend was supposed to be my dance partner and the teacher told us, we weren't doing dance partners...but I loved it. Tons of hip moving, cha-cha-ing and sashaying.
              But how does grace play into this? After my Young Adult Literature course, the sister who teaches it (and my FAVORITE English Nun), stopped me after class. She knew that I would be going to the March for Life and since I had her Spring Semester 2011, she said, "You're doing it to me again, Becky." "Yeah, sorry, Sister." To which she replied, "But really, good for you. Good luck!" As we walked out of the classroom, she asked about how break went and surprisingly asked if things were good with my soul. It was surprising because, she's not the type to rope religion into a regular conversation NOR does she know too much about me. Yet, she read me like a book. Things every so often, do get rough. Those are the cons of the life I lead. Sometimes, we all get lonely, sad, or gain the feeling of the desert. I never once mentioned the desert storm of my soul last semester to sister or to anyone really, but she knew. She read right through me. And she left me with this: "Grace will come, Becky. That I can promise. I don't know when it will come, but it will. It will come when you least expect it and most need it."
              Later that night, I auditioned for her children's theater drama production of Charlotte's Web. As a new member of Cue and Curtain, I should have had to perform a monologue, but I didn't. She just smiled, thanked me for my note and put me on the stage. There is something about her, that as intimidating as she can be as a teacher with her grades, puts me in awe of her. It's like from afar she watches me to make sure I'm doing alright. She doesn't mention anything to me unless we are caught in a situation with the two of us, which is rare. Yet, some how, she always has that wink in her smile when she sees me. As if maybe she's an angel in disguise and is watching over me. Or maybe...maybe it's just GRACE!