There's Always The Kitchen Sink

"The ocean is a baffling element.

I can walk safely on it's shores, caressed by the sands

and yet, if I were to throw my cares to the sea, 

the waves bring them right back again."

Ignore the fact that I look twelve in this picture...
Cape May Lighthouse 2013

     Contrary to former belief, my littlest sister, Lizzie, is not always a saint. Sometimes she can drive me crazy, sometimes she can get on my last nerve, and sometimes she can be the sweetest, cutest, nine-year old I know. What I love (and at the same time dislike) is that she shows her emotions to the full. If she's mad, she stomps her feet all throughout the house while the rest of us are yelling "control your temper, young lady." If she's happy, she'll giggle and laugh and tell the same story over and over and over again. If she's sad, she cries. And not just little tears either, buckets and buckets of sobs. If she's hungry (which is definitely an emotion in my family), she will conjure up the most creative, interesting meal possible with the widest array of items in our kitchen. Of course, this means climbing over and in things which usually results in a huge mess. While her foot stomping, bucket sobbing, and kitchen mess making antics might actually drive one crazy (and most often it does), I can't help but look at her and say, "Wow, I wish I was that comfortable in my own skin to fully express myself."

     The other day, my family and I decided to take a drive down to Cape May. Of course, if you don't have EZ Pass, driving across the bridge, down the Atlantic City Expressway and then down the Garden State can be quite the piggy bank breaker. So, I decided to take the fam down a different route. Of course, I wasn't driving, I was just casually reading my novel in the front seat. You see, my Dad has an incredible sense of direction. So, I guess I kind of assumed that once we got over the bridge, he would know exactly where we were and how we were going to get to Cape May. Well he didn't and a normal 1.5-2 hour drive turned into a 3 hour drive. 

     My sisters were snuggled together in the back seat for most of the ride. We had left at 8:30 which was entirely too early for any normal school kid. When we finally hit the 2.5 hour mark on our trip, suddenly the back seat was full of "Are we there yet?" I couldn't help but laugh, because deep down inside all I wanted was to get out and get on the beach. ASAP. But as we pulled into Cape May County, the skies opened up and it started raining. And when it rains down the shore, it rains cats and dogs. Luckily for me, I had pulled my hair back into two french braids. A rainy day for a curly top is horrible. Talk about looking like you got electrocuted. Anyway, so we parked the car at the lighthouse, I put on my EIC hat (EIC, folks, is the school I lived at in Peru Escolar Inmaculado Corazon) and donned my pink and yellow windbreaker/raincoat. Of course, this than made me appear as a twelve year old instead of a twenty-one year old. We climbed the 199 steps in the lighthouse and the moment Lizzie saw the beach (she hadn't realized we were right there....), she got so excited that she would NOT stop badgering us until she was in the ocean.

     Well, like I said, it was raining, cats and dogs, and wasn't exactly what one would call beach weather. It wasn't even 80 degrees out. (SIDENOTE: When we were younger, we weren't allowed in the pool unless it was 80 degrees. You can only imagine the tactics we had for getting the thermometer up to 80 degrees.) We all had our bathing suits on but really it was too muggy for us even to want to go in the water. Well, all of us except Lizzie. We left the lighthouse and pulled into Sunset Beach, the very tip of New Jersey. We were standing on the rocky beach in the rain and before we knew it, there was Liz, throwing her clothes on the rocks (to get soaked) and in the water. DO NOT we all screamed. But it was too late, she was already thigh high in the water. 

     We probably would have stayed a little longer if the winds hadn't picked up and our stomachs weren't growling. So, we had a misadventure at Wawa before driving through Wildwood to get pictures by the Wildwood sign and then onto Stone Harbor. By the time we got to Stone Harbor, the rains had stopped and it looked like the sun might actually try to come out. As we walked along the beach, the temperature warmed but I had distracted Lizzie by finding lots of seashells, crabs and even a dead jellyfish. Still, it was too foggy to go in the water, even if it was warming up. 

     Lizzie had gotten herself so perked up about going in the water that ever since Cape May, she kept asking when she could go swimming. None of us had the heart to tell her that we probably would not be going swimming that day. We got back in the car and that's when the tears starting pouring. And they weren't silent tears, they came with the sound of a little girl's broken heart. She cried and sobbed and sometimes screamed the whole way out of stone harbor and over the bridge. That's when I had an idea...the Zoo.

     The Cape May County Zoo is literally ten minutes out of Stone Harbor and I thought it would be a fantastic way to get her sidetracked. It seemed to work; she was zooming around to see every animal, sometimes almost knocking us out of the way. I thought to myself, how clever, she'll never remember. That was until we got to the last exhibit in the zoo. It was there that she said: Daddy, now, can we go in the ocean?! She had wanted to get through all the animals just so she could speed up her time on the beach. Clever little girl, veeeeeeery clever. 

     Well, like all of us, she is also a Daddy's little girl and as much as we might drive Daddy crazy, we all know we have Daddy wrapped around our fingers. It's good way, of course; we're definitely not spoiled. But out of his love and affection, we jumped in the car once again and drive through the next few ocean view towns until we finally landed ourselves in Strathmere. Strathmere is a little town I had never actually heard of before but immediately I fell in love with it. We parked the car and unloaded the trunk. Lizzie was already well on her way to the ocean before we even set the blanket down. I wanted so badly to get in the water, but it was way too cold. So, I settled myself down by where the water meets the shore and watched as the baby clams rolled in and out of the sand. 

     About a half hour later, I found myself staring at the water from the comfort of my own blanket. The beach was pretty empty as it was almost 5 in the afternoon and so it was quiet and peaceful. Even though I was with my family, I easily made personal space for myself. I still had my EIC hat on and immediately all the memories of my beach adventures came flooding back. Everything from the one time I fell in a giant sand hole while down the shore with my boyfriend's family, to the time Sister Virginia taught me how to pray from the Life Guard stand in Ocean City to just recently when I was down in Stone Harbor for my birthday and Sister Elaine took me to watch the sunset on the bay. All these beautiful memories came back to me and with the waves went right back out. As I sat and reflected, tears filled up in the my eyes. The ocean is more than a memory to me; it's a part of me. The sands, the shells, the rocks, the fish, the very water itself is all a part of me. When I am near the ocean, I feel complete and when I am far away, something is missing terribly. 

     I tell the story of my little sister, not so as to embarrass her but rather because if I didn't have as much control over my emotions, I would probably throw a fit every time I needed the ocean. She put into visual format what I was feeling when we were driving away from the beach each time. The ocean is such a part of me as it brings so much peace to my mind. It says to me, as big as your troubles or confusions are, I am bigger. The ocean is my God. God is my ocean. I can easily swim in the ocean of God's peace. Just as the ocean is bigger than all my worries and thoughts, God is bigger. My little sister put into view what my heart has been going through in the past few weeks. Happiness and yet pain, joy and sorrow, being pulled in every direction. I just needed to ocean to be able to focus again. As I sat on the beach, on my red blanket, staring off into the ocean, I had a desire for someone to be there with me. I wanted so badly to be able to share that moment with someone who understood all the trials AND jubilations that religious life offers. I thought how beautiful it would be if suddenly anyone of my Sisters were to just walk out on the beach and meet me there, to tell me it will actually be all okay and while the troubles do come, the jubilations are bigger, like the ocean is bigger, like my God is bigger. But alas, I was alone....well, not really. No, in fact, I was far from alone. I had my God, I had my family and I had the memories of some many times in the past. I was far, far, far from feeling alone. 

     As we left the ocean, Lizzie smiled on satisfactorily. She had finally gotten what she had been longing for for a very long time. I looked on through my side view windows at the ocean shrinking behind me and thought two things. First, that I had a feeling I might find myself at the waters edge many times this up coming school year. And two, oh how I would love to live by the ocean. That anywhere I live, I sure hope there is some type of water nearby. But since, in the convent, one doesn't always get what she wants, I guess, if I'm ever in dire need of a body of water, there's always the kitchen sink. 

The Desire of Nothingness - A Reflection on Deserts and Barranca

"The closer one becomes to approaching God, 

the simpler she becomes."

- St. Teresa of Avila

   Up until Thursday I have only had two experiences where I was traveling in a car, packed in with a plethora of other bags and odds and ends: one, everytime I move in and out of school; two, the car ride from the airport in Jamaica to Spur Tree with bags and people. Thursday, I, along with the three other girls and two sisters, piled into a car made for eight. Let me tell you, the mom van is made for eight. I have a hard time believing that at any point in time this car could actually fit eight people. Regardless, with four girls and two sisters, that was only six people. So, why was it packed? You see, our school in Miraflores, EIC, supports the Fe Y Alegría school in Barranca with their Tombola for the Kermesse. You know, that carnival type thing I described a few blog posts prior. This meant that we were taking a few of the things with us beings that Barranca is a 3.5 hour car ride away. So this girl, who loves to snuggle, got to snuggle with multiple 5kg bags of rice the whole way. Needless to say, this provoked many thoughts in my heart, mind and soul.

   First, you must know that Barranca, while being 3.5 hours away, is also one of the poorest missions of the IHM Sisters here in Perú. There is a public school there called Fe Y Alegría which is directed by three beautiful IHM Sisters. We began our journey at 6:30 in the morning, which does not really seem like such a feat anymore beings we have to catch the bus to Callou every morning at 6:50. We all piled in the car with myself in the back seat snuggling the rice and the three girls in the middle. Many of you know how much I love books and language, so of course, I brought two books with me to read to and fro in the car. As we were driving through Lima, I settled into my book and propped my leg up on some rice. This could not be that bad, I convinced myself. And in actuality, it was nothing. No problema, hermana! 

    After about an hour, we finally exited the city of Lima and were headed toward Barranca via the Panamerica Highway. At first, I was thinking to myself, that it was just like driving on the PA Turnpike to Uncle Tommys house. However, while that does seem to be an extremely extensive drive, the turnpike is surrouned by lush, green, trees and bushes. This road...hello nothingness. I was reading one minute, and the next minute, I happened to look out the window to realize the nothingness. Beautiful Nothingness. 

    We were surrounded by the desert. Having just finished The Alchemist again for the fifth time, I immediately felt like I had been thrown into the story. In this story, there is a shepherd boy searching for his treasure. He travels far and wide all through various different climates and countries, but the majority of the book takes place in the desert. While I have always loved the book (I mean, I have read it five times and still, everytime I find something new and fantastic in it), it did not truly hit my heart until that drive through the desert. You see, for those who have not read it, the shepherd boy realizes that he always had his treasure and it was always simply present. Suddenly, I realized, like he had realized, my truest desire in the world. 

    Perhaps I have written about it before, perhaps not. In my heart, there has always been this desire for nothing. Now some of you might say, why would an English major state it that way as opposed to I have never desired anything? Well, you see, the two statements are extremely different. I have never NEVER desired anything; every human heart desires something. My heart has always desired nothing, or rather, nothingness. It is not a poverty, but rather an extreme richness. But how can one desire nothing? 

    Think about the desert. If you have never seen one (and I had never seen one until just this past week), google an image. Look at the wide horizon of NOTHING. There is only sand. Every so often, one will come across an oasis, but more than not, there is nothing but sand, sand, sand and some sun. As we were driving through the desert, I watched the minutes of nothingness pass by my window. Deep down inside, I found this desire for that nothingness. The desert is full of the bare minimum. I stared out the window and imagined myself simply standing in the middle of the desert: just me and absolute nothing else but sand. There were no houses, no animals, no cars, no walkways. NOTHING. The desire grew and grew with each passing moment, that is, this desire I have always had. 

    I fell asleep to a dream-like image of me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a backpack filled with necessities. So often, I want to throw my hands up in the air and let go of every single thing that posesses me including things, places and people. I imagined just letting go of everything I have ever owned, or what had ever had hold over me. I wanted nothing to hold me down so that I could fully do Gods work, what He wants of me. If I am posessed by places or people, I can never do His work completely. For example, if I had a fear of leaving my beloved home of Croydon, I would never had made it to Jamaica, Peru or even Immaculata. And imagine all the people I never would have met. But for a greater example, if I could never leave my family, while I love them so dearly, I could never enter a religious community. They say, what you give up, you are given tenfold in return. And is that not the truth. Every single time I give up what I am so blessed to have in my comfortable home, like family, I am given tenfold in return. Every where I go, I gain new family members, new sisters, new brothers, new mothers, new fathers. Of course, for my family reading this, NO ONE CAN EVER REPLACE YOU. But, if I could never let go, I would never be as blessed as I am. 

    I have always felt this desire to let go of everything, to let my heart be posessed by this nothingness like the desert. Because if I have nothingness, then I can only be filled with more. Imagine like this: you have a glass of water, half full. You do not want to drink it for fear that you will never have anything to drink again. A waiter comes around with a silver pitched and asks if you want more to drink, but he can only fill your cup if it is empty first. Not wanting to drink the water, for fear that there is nothing in the pitcher, you deny the waiters offer and continue to sit, with your half full glass of water. A few moments later, you realize that the waiter has been filling others glasses with the most delicious of wines. Even if the waiter had been able to fill your cup with the water in it, the water would have diluted the wine and decreased its value. Because you were fearful to let go of the water, you missed out on the blessing of the best wine. Your heart is like that. Jesus only wants to fill us with good things, but if we cannot first empty our hearts and possess nothingness, we cannot be filled. Jesus will fill our hearts despite the things we hold onto, but those things dilute the blessings. This is how I have always felt. I want my heart to be an empty glass so Jesus can fill me with good things. Nothingness, like the desert.

    I awoke from my "sleep" the moment we hit the dirt road that lead us to Barranca. In fact, I flew off the seat. Where on earth are we? my human senses asked. And then I saw the houses, the motortaxis, the school and fell in love. THIS IS WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS DESIRED. The nothingness of the poor, because as much as they do not have, they are filled with happiness that the rich cannot possess. We were so blessed to walk around the school and meet the children of Fe Y Alegría. I was even able to do basic math with the first graders (thank God I know my numbers in Spanish). Hugs and kisses were given all over the place and the children, despite not knowing a word of English understood. The sisters, by their very example, increased my desire to love and serve the poor, with my heart of nothingness. In fact, within a half hour, I had already told Sister Teresa Catherine, I was staying. She, of course, said that I had probably said that everywhere I have gone in Perú. But no, I told her, this is it. This place, this beautiful place, is the very desire of my soul. I stood on the patio, watching the children, being a recipient of so much love, and just knew in my heart, that the desert had spoken to my soul so truthfully. I have a heart MADE for nothingness. I have a heart made for nothingness so that I can love each and every soul, whether rich or poor, with the fullest of capacities. Yes, I know I am made for this.