Cry Out to Jesus

"The cry of a baby is God's voice; 

never turn them away."

- Pope Francis

  

    At no surprise to anyone, babies, especially newborns, cry. They cry when they are hungry, they cry when they need a diaper change, they cry when they wake themselves up, they cry when they are fighting a nap, they cry when you just aren't doing what they want you to do. Despite knowing this, I found myself bouncing baby girl, whispering, "please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry," on the first day we attempted to go to daily Mass. Having been a regular at daily Mass when I was younger, I thought that maternity leave might be a great time to start getting back in the habit. While I did take my screaming baby out of church right after Communion that day, I'm glad we went back the next day.

    Within a week, we had a system down. We would get up with Daddy, eat first breakfast and take a nap during which I would take us to Mass. Baby girl would sleep the whole time in my arms, sleeping through me taking her out of her carseat, wrapping her in love blankets (more on those next week) and finding a pew. We take the last seat in the Chapel closest to the door......just in case. But for the last few weeks, baby girl has slept and all the daily Mass goers have fawned over her perfection. That was until one day last week.

     We arrived at the Chapel a little before Mass and this time, baby girl woke up when I took her out of her carseat. I thought, we can try this, but I'm not certain we will make it through Mass without a cry fest. Not even five minutes of sitting in Chapel passed before I made the decision to walk out of Chapel and walk her around to see if she would calm. Nope. This girl was hungry and she was going to let everyone know it. As I walked with her, talking to her and telling her it was going to be okay, we passed one of my favorite Italian ladies going into the Chapel. "Oh child," she said (to me, not to baby,) "she can cry in there; we don't mind." I thanked her but knew that baby girl was not going to quiet until she ate and so home we went. We returned the next day and she slept through Mass again.

     Then yesterday happened. We were sitting in our usual seat; last seat, last pew, by the door, just in case. She was sleeping when we first got there, but then someone sneezed and she started to wake. There's a sweet spot between when she first wakes up from a nap and when she starts stirring for food, during which she is bright-eyed, alert and her eyes are wandering in discovery. I prayed this would last during the remainder of Mass. Her eyes searched the Chapel, watching all the shadows dancing in the stained glass. She got the hiccups right before the consecration and the people around us turned to smile and laugh. I couldn't help but laugh, too; they were adorable. After Mass, everyone affirmed her cute hiccups. Okay, I thought, maybe we can sit through Mass while being awake. 

      Then today happened. We were sitting in our usual seat; last seat, last pew, by the door, just in case. She was very awake when we pulled into the church parking lot but she had just ate so she shouldn't be hungry, at least not for another hour. She was pretty content, watching the shadows and this time really staring at our priest. He was wearing red today, for the martyrs, Cosmos and Damian, so naturally her eyes were following him. But right about the Gospel, she got fussy and when she gets fussy, especially when she's fighting a nap, she doesn't like it if she's not being rocked. So when I sat down for the Homily, baby girl wasn't having it. I was about to give up and use our exit plan when I remembered what my favorite Italian lady said, "she can cry in here; we don't mind." So, I stood while everyone else sat or knelt and we made it through Mass, despite the fact that baby girl was a little fussy. At the end of Mass, multiple people came up to her (as they do every day) and affirmed her using her voice in Mass. They loved hearing her making noises and crying; they told her to keep praying; they smiled and gushed over how wonderful it was to have a baby with them every day. Even our priest shook her little hand after Mass and affirmed her voice. This made me happier than anyone could imagine.

     You see, I have always been on the side for babies in church, no matter how much noise they make. Jesus said, "let the Children come to me." But I have seen how some daily congregants and some priests treat the crying babies in church and subsequently their young moms. I was nervous about experiencing this and having just moved into this Parish, I wasn't sure how our priest or congregation would feel if a. I brought her to daily Mass and b. she cried or fussed during Mass. In a small Chapel, it's very easy to find the baby and her mother. There's no doubt that if you're holding a fussy baby, all eyes are on you. But I've learned in the past few days that not only do the people accept us, they also don't mind if she gets fussy every once in a while. I may not know any of their names, but they know baby girl and they seem to love her on her good days and her bad days.

      As I was rocking baby girl back and forth in the Chapel today, I kept thinking of what my favorite Italian woman said, "She can cry in here; we don't mind." It was reassuring that these people, my people, accepted my crying, fussy baby and understood that I was doing my best. But it also made me think deeper. How many of us, for any given reason, have wanted to cry during Mass. I don't know about you, but since church is my safe space, I often feel safe enough to release my overwhelming emotions and cry there. So many of us have felt ashamed or embarrassed to cry in our churches. If baby girl can cry out in Mass, why can't we? Okay, so maybe during Mass isn't the best time or place to literally cry out to Jesus, but our churches and our chapels are meant to be places where we can cry, we can talk, we can converse with Jesus. We can cry out to Jesus no matter how we feel on any given day. Instead of feeling like we shouldn't, may we embrace the wisdom of the Italian woman and bring our tears (and laughter and coos) to Jesus; we don't mind if you do. May we be as free as baby girl and feel peace in letting Jesus hear our cries. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmVxRl5bc4Y

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. 

Sometimes the Road Gets A Little Rocky

"Just because you are in a tough situation, 

doesn't mean it has to be tragic.

You are in control of how terrible your situation feels."

- Sister Marcille

    You may or may not have seen the Facebook status that read : The phrase that sums up my week "let's just find a rock big enough for both of us to hide under and call it a day." Yes, I said that. But it was in casual response to something I never would have expected to hear from one of my Sisters: "I want to hide under a rock." Of course, this was as we were attempting to lift the giant, ancient window in her office and after I almost cried in her presence for the third time in a row that week. It was only Wednesday. However, it didn't quite shock me like it probably would have had I been not in a crabby mood. In fact, it was almost comforting; someone else was feeling almost the same attitude. Okay, well, maybe we both wanted to hide away from the world for different reasons, but the point is, we both wanted to hide under rocks. I was tired of crying and she was tired of meetings. But that's life, I guess. 

    Many of you know me as the girl with the perpetual smile. The truth is, I have found ways to always keep positive and to smile through anything that is upsetting me. However, this doesn't mean that I don't have days where I am just in a complete Debbie Downer mood. On these days, I usually avoid all kinds of civilization and stick to myself. So essentially, I am always in a smilely mood because most people only see me when I have tons of smiles to give. Of course, duty calls and one must go to work and to class even on days when she might rather just stay wrapped up in her blankets in her bed. Last week, I was seemingly in a perpetual Debbie Downer mood and while, I tried to avoid people so as not to have my bad mood rub off, I still had to come in contact with a few people. 

    So here's the background. It's the final two weeks of school. That means, finals, finals, finals. Of course, as an English Major I am so blessed to be given papers in lieu of finals. However, I'm also half an Education Major and so, my finals consist of teaching lessons to my class. As of now, I have one paper to worry about, four discussion boards to finish, a lesson plan to do and a Theology final. Almost done. However, at the beginning of last week, the workload was definitely doubled and I had no desire to do any of it. I was wishing I could be back at home with my little sister who has seemingly been putting up a daily fight to go to school. 

    As the oldest sister, I am always worried about my little sisters and this new knowledge of little Lizzie was worrying my heart out. I actually wanted to just scoop her up in my arms and snuggle her "all the day" (as she always says). I wanted to protect her, love her and squeeze her close. Having to go back to school was the hardest thing, especially with only two weeks of school left for me. Needless the say, I spent Sunday night almost sobbing because I was so worried about her. But, that same night, from one big sister to another, my Sister gave me endearing words of support and a hug to get me through the night. As much as that helped, I still wanted to hide under a rock and when I saw her two days later, she was feeling the same sentiment. 

    It seemed that as the days went by last week, I felt more and more worry in my heart for my little sister....and for my upcoming finals. I am grateful for those who let my introvertedness be fully expressed, namely my Sister. She wouldn't really say much, except ask a few questions, already knowing the full situation my heart was in, and give me something to smile about or to take my mind off of things for a while. She had become so gentle with my heart as if she was holding in her hands the must expensive and most fragile piece of China porcelain. She was honest, she was true, she was gentle; so, so, so gentle. It humbled me but it also let me embrace the emotions going on in my heart. By Wednesday, after mid-day Mass, I found myself wiping salt water off my cheeks as I prayed and prayed and prayer. And in that prayer I was given the image of that rock we had both wanted to hide under. Ironically, I was also given a choice. 

    There are plenty of days when we each want to hide under a rock. Last week, was my week of days of wanting to run and hide under rocks. Even in class, another Sister told me that I looked as quite miserable, even after she presented me with an A on my final paper. Anyway, for some people, their rocks could be their beds or their rooms where they hide away from the world, or maybe a secret place they go to on their own, like the beach or the park or a specific bench by the river. We all want to hide, because like Adam and Eve, we don't like to feel vulnerable; wanting to hide is part of human nature. However, just like Adam and Eve, we are given a choice. God will provide us with the rock when we need it, but we can choose to do one of two things with it: lift it and hide under it OR stand on top of it, throw our hands up in the air and let God take care of it. At that moment in Chapel, when I was presented with this image and this decision, I had realized that I wasn't wanting to hide under the rock; I was already under it. 

      I was given the choice right then in Chapel to either stay under that rock or climb out from underneath and stand on top. I still wanted to hide under my rock, I still was searching for a chance to sob about my life, I was still searching for a lasting hug. I mentioned all of this in prayer and was told, you can cry to Me, My Arms are wide open to hug you, My princess. So, slowly, I began to climb out. I cried because I knew I couldn't control anything that was happening in my life because losing control is so scary. However, I soon learned that losing control was also so freeing. The true climb out from underneath my rock began early Thursday morning when I realized that the lesson plan for the lesson I was supposed to teach my Honors Juniors class was not in my bag, but at home in my room at school. Oops. I had no control over the situation and so, I said, "Jesus take the wheel." 

     Later that day, I unpinned the bobby pins in my hair and let my curls go crazy as I rolled down the window in Cameron's car. Seriously, my curls, when UNCONTROLLED, are actually crazy crazy crazy. It may not mean much to anyone else, but to me, letting go of the little things I could usually control really helped with the letting go of things I couldn't control. Before I knew it, I was standing on top of my rock, throwing my hands in the air, proclaiming that God was wholly in control and there was nothing I could do about anything but pray. 

     On Friday, I was proclaiming to the world that I was the happiest I had been all week. At Mass that afternoon, my secret handshake peace giver shook my hand but instead of letting go, she held on until I turned back around. Laughing, I asked her for my hand back. But instead of giving me my hand back, said, "I just want to say that it's good to see your beautiful smile again." And in that moment, I felt somewhat infinite. And I guess that's what truly giving all control to God does for a person; it makes her feel infinite. 

     I can honestly say I learned an extremely valuable life lesson this past week. Well, actually a few. It's okay to cry, to sob and let people see you. It's okay to be human (shocker). It's okay that when you really need a hug so you can cry, to ask for a hug from your Sisters. And finally, when faced with a rocky road, you can choose to either hide under each of them or stand on top, conquering that rock, that mountain, and throw your hands in the air, giving all control to Jesus. Sometimes the road gets rocky, there's no doubt about that. But we get to choose how that rocky road affects us. It's always good to cry about things, to truly embrace the emotions God has blessed you with, but remember that hiding does no one any good. It's the standing atop your mountain and letting God take that control. Trust me, He's got this. And if you need a hug, He's more than willing to give you one. Promise.