From Convent to Conte

"You made the best choice for yourself.

Your heart was torn about where to go

and he came into your life at the perfect moment."

- S. Jeanette

      Two blog posts in one week? It must be summertime. Yet, despite this, I've been busy. But the desire to write and open my heart is louder than ever. I can hardly wait to sit in the pool tomorrow, but tomorrow is not yet here. And since I can't write in the pool (water and technology just don't mix apparently...hah!), why not use the best of the time I'm waiting for my class to begin? 

      Yesterday, I was so incredibly blessed to spend the day with some of the most beautiful people I know. For the past eight years, the service immersion week, CREW, has taken place. I participated in CREW as a awkward adolescent, helped out when I was in college (for the exception of when I spent time in SA) and was back last year (as an adult? yikes!). We had been planning for a great week this year, but as the odds have it, only a few signed up. So we decided to make the best of it: why not have a whole day dedicated to CREW. That's what I love about these women - they have creative hope. 

      And so, around 5:30 yesterday morning, I woke up, began to work on my annual duty assigned to me, and then headed to our CREW day for Mass and the day. Was I excited? Yes. See above mention of morning wake up time. Was I nervous? Also, yes. But why? Well, it was going to be the first time I had interaction with a lot of the sisters since before I was engaged. Now, it wasn't as if I was showing up, not having told anyone. They all knew. I figured telling them before I saw them all again, would break the ice a bit. So, why was I nervous? Well, to be honest, I can't really pinpoint an exact reason. But, I can tell you the exact second my nerves were eased. 

      Immediately after Mass, we had invited the girls for breakfast and as usual, I was lingering behind when S. Jeannette grabbed me by the hand gently. Sister has known me for what seems like eternity, but what is actually close to 11 years. Without actually spending large amounts of time together, she has watched me grow throughout my (really) award adolescent years into a young college woman and now, into a woman about to get married. How blessed am I to have so many women in my life willing to journey with me through those transitions! 

      So at any rate, she gave me a big hug and expressed a deep congratulations. Perhaps she could tell I was nervous. Perhaps she had been thinking this since I sent the house my announcement in the mail. I'm not quite sure, but she did always have a knack for telling me what I needed to hear. That's when she told me she felt that I made the right choice. She expressed knowing that I, for certain, had prayed about this. And then she told me that there was no question in her heart that I was struggling with choosing between some great communities. At the time when I was struggling the most, she believes that's when Joe entered my life. She truly believes he entered my life to ease the confusion of my heart. And when she said this, without ever having a conversation quite like it before, I felt instant peace wash over my heart. 

      My day was filled with adventure, as any day spent with the Sisters really is. I was able to welcome "home" a dear friend of mine, laugh with the Sisters I hadn't seen for a while, and yes, even rise to a rare occasion of dancing in the rain (by which I mean, chasing a Sister outside to help her with blow away chairs during a storm). Around suppertime, my nerves began to get at me again as slowly but surely more and more sisters began to join us for our picnic supper. That's when I took the chance to go run in the rain. We came back inside, soaked but laughing together. We squeezed puddles out of our hair/veil and laughed some more as we considered what any passersby may have thought. In that moment, I was set free again from my anxieties. I had strength to face the crowd of sisters who all knew about my engagement. 

     I guess I was expecting them to each express their disappointment that I wasn't entering religious life despite the fact that Joe and I have been dating for three years and most have met him. I guess I was also expecting some to express questions and I just wasn't ready to answer questions en masse. But my worrying was for naught. As I tried to stay away from any spotlight, sisters, quietly and seemingly, one by one, came to me, gave a hug and told me how proud they are or how happy they are for me and Joe. Some even asked me to retell each detail surrounding the night we were engaged. I was surrounded not only by a grand amount of support, but a huge, loving family. 

      In those moments of brief conversation with many of the sisters, I felt a peaceful transition. As my bridal party would say, "from convent to Conte." There is no doubt in my heart that I am meant to be with Joe; he is my best friend. But there was fear of disappointing others. Some would tell me, never let that fear inhabit me from living my life. But again, these women have surrounded me for a very long time. They were the teachers, mentors, tutors who helped raise me. They were companions on a journey of prayer and introspection. And again, I am so blessed they allowed me to stay a part of their lives despite life changes and transitions from teenager to college student to young woman out in the world. 

       After our picnic supper, we headed to the Chapel I had fallen in love with so many years ago. I was surrounded by the voices of beautiful women, each with their own story, singing loudly and proudly during Praise and Worship Adoration. At one moment, the sun came straight through the stained glass window and I felt, shined right on my face. My found my heart so lifted in prayer by those around me and indeed loved, so incredibly loved. If ever I doubted God's love for me, in that moment I was reassured that I am far from a disappointment, far from being disowned and far from a need to worry. These Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth reminded me the truth of their charism: family. 

       I was greatly assured last night by the love of others, the greatest of hugs, and the peace given. As we parted for the night, one sister reminded me: we need holy families. You felt called by the Holy Family once, you're being called again, just in a way you never expected. And there is so much truth in those words. Yes. This is a call to be a Holy Family, no matter where I am, from convent to Conte! 

Kiss for the Road - an Open Letter to my Extended Family

"Families are messy. Sometimes the best we can do

is to remind each other that we're related for better and for worse....

and try to keep the maiming and the killing to a minimum."

- Rick Riordan, "Sea of Monsters"

It's not all the cousins, but it's a good amount.

Dear Family, 

All great letters start with "Dear," don't they? The word means "to, hey you read this, and I'm addressing you, so listen up." But it also means "my fondest, beloved, and cherished." In this family, both apply...listen up now, my cherished related family members. 

And so I say, to my dear family members, I've been reflecting our us as a collective whole for a while now. Maybe because the last time we were all together was a sad occasion. Maybe because I love you all too much it hurts some times. Maybe before I think I love being around all of you more than anything in the world. I'm not sure what sparked this desire to write this letter to you, but I think I need to. I think it's time I told you a lot of things. 

I have so many fond memories of us together. I have a picture of me and granddad on my desk at school from the pumpkin patch. Remember how we would all pile into the giant hay-filled trailer and travel a long way to the pumpkin patch? I vaguely remember the tradition happening all the way out near Kennett Square. I vaguely remember the giant whole-in-face scarecrow thing they had there. I'm not sure how many of the cousins got to see it because it closed or we stopped going or something happened. 

I have many fond memories of the tire swing that most of us are way too big for and that one time someone broke an elbow or a pair of glasses or something...okay, it was more than one time. I have fond memories of sledding down the farm hill and thinking it was the best thing in the world. I remember going to cut down our own Christmas trees. I remember all the parties we had for Baptisms, First Communions, Graduations and Birthdays. There was always laughter, pictures, fun times, good food and hours upon hours of conversation or play. My favorite day of the year is the family party around Christmastime. I literally look forward to that all year, more than anyone can understand. 

I love when we sit around the table telling the most hilarious stories of all the brothers and sister growing up. My maternal grandmother never can understand how me and my sisters can say one word and laugh until we're blue in the face. But I'm pretty sure I get that from my dad's side of the family because no one really knows the significance of the Mayonnaise Jar or what the heck pookie means except the brothers and sister. I'm not sure I even want to know. But what I love most about those stories is the laughter that comes from them. Whether you're laughing because you were present or you're laughing because someone else's laughter is just as funny as the story itself. I know, snorting is hilarious, and yes, I'm usually the one snorting. I also love hearing the stories of our grandparents. Like how apparently granddad never let us go when we were younger or always sugared us up before returning us back to our parents. I love the pictures we have of them and somehow it leads me to believe that they loved each other a lot.  I wish I could have known Grandmom because she sounds like the strong, faith-filled woman I can only dream of being. I wish Granddad could have been here longer -  Stewart's Root Beer and Ginger Snaps just aren't the same anymore. I wish I could know if I've made them proud. 

Above all, I love each and everyone of you. The ladies of our family are some of the strongest, most empowering, and most faith-filled women I know. Whenever I need confidence, I look to my aunts - the women who have dealt with my uncles for years, who have raised my favorite people in the world, who give so much passion to their professions, their lifestyles and their families. Each of you are unique and I sometimes like to pretend I have a bit of each of your personality in me. The men of our family have shown me what to look for in my best guy friends and/or a future husband (and.....what not to look for ;)). They have shown me how to protect one's family and provide for one's family. I have seen some of the best dads I've ever met in this family. All this being said, I've seen some great power couples, too. Life goals couples. Yes, I see how husbands make wives laugh and how they frustrate each other at times. I see them get through really tough times and enjoy the blissful moments. I want that one day whether it's with Jesus or it's with a husband. 

To my cousins, the source of my tear-filled laughter. I laugh the hardest with you. I cry the most with you. I dodge the most punches when I'm with you...and I throw the most punches when I'm with you. I hear the most harassment from you about my height, but hey, shorty still loves you. But I also hear the most words of encouragement from you. Whether you're protecting our country, our family name or my dignity, you are there for me and I always feel the safest in your presence. With no one else would I willingly ruin a pair of shoes in the mud, risk a broken limb, run faster than I've ever run, race with my younger cousins on my back, or even sit around a crowded room for hours without any contact to the outside world. You are each my hero in a unique way and I wish you could know the extent of my love for you. The truth is, I don't have the words for it. All I can say is "I love you" each time and hope you know it's true. 

We don't each other often enough. It seems we only see each other now when tears are involved - births, deaths and marriages. And it's a crying shame I don't see you more often. I truthfully long to once again all be crowded in someone's smaller house for now reason other than to eat and be merry. I truthfully long to play cops and robbers, get dirty, and be childishly silly with my cousins again. I'm guilty of being so busy that sometimes I can't breathe but I think I already know what my New Year's Resolution is going to be - the see my family more often. To make it a point to visit with my aunts and uncles and cousins. Because I love you each so much. 

I started this letter with a great quotation - families are messy. We have our own messes, our own flaws, things we know about, things we hide. I have this ideal image of our family and I know each of us carries our own burdens, our own mistakes, our own flaws and so much more. I admit that I am not perfect, I could never even think about being perfect. I know that of my own person, I have my own issues. I love too much, I get my heart broken too easily, I want to save the world. But I also get too angry, I sometimes have yelling matches with God about my life and the world, and I often feel like giving up. There's more but this letter isn't about me. But really, I get it, we all have quirks, flaws and problems. We all have some reason or another to hate on someone else at times. And yeah we have family drama. But all of that doesn't make me love you any less. In fact, I think it makes me love you more because it reminds me I'm not alone. 

The truth is, the reason I wrote this open letter is so that you would know I love you. So I could put into words the reasons why I love you. You make me the best me when I'm with you. You bring out all the things I love about myself. You actually think I'm funny when I tell jokes. You actually listen to my stories whether or not they are good stories. You pray for me. You make me smile. You let me give nice, long, snuggly hugs and you let me hold your hands. You let me laugh until I'm snorting or crying or both. You remind me that I'm loved when I'm being silly and when I'm being a little melancholy, too. You remind me, too, why I'm proud to be a part of this family and to be a Catholic. 

Thank you. Thank you for being there when I need a smile, a laugh or a reminder that I need to be the best me. Thank you for everything, for raising me into the young woman I am today. Thank you for dressing me in my baptismal dress, taking my pictures, letting me be in your weddings, trusting me enough to babysit, be a godmother, letting me run around your houses (still) and so much more. Thank you and thank God we share the same last name. I love you all. 

Sincerely, 

Your niece, daughter, grand-daughter, cousin.

P.S. Here's a KISS for the Road. 

Growing and Changing NOT Closing

"Change is inevitable; growth is optional."

- St. Charles Seminary's Vocation Director

     While on my way to the turnpike or to the mall or to Target (or chipotle) in the past two weeks I have passed the same Church sign over and over and over. I've always been a sucker for cheesy church signs and sometimes the one out front at Our Lady of Fatima in Bensalem takes the cake. They always have something clever written out front for each and every Holy Day or Church Season. However, it's simply Ordinary Time so what could be so fantastic about it this time? Well you see, the sign read: "We are NOT CLOSING. Just Growing and Changing. Worship here daily." When I read that, I thought, wow, how refreshing to finally see some positivity.

     For many of us in the Lower Bucks County area, we've been experiencing the Archdiocesan Year-Long Study. Basically, there had been a series of interviews, observations and studies at each Parish in Bensalem, Croydon and Bristol for the past year. Things such as structure, facilities, parish activities, Mass attendance and more were taken into consideration. Even though I was at school for most of the year, I was still feeling the strains of the study. It felt as if at any moment everything was going to be ripped away from me. I didn't want my Parish to close. I didn't want to have to go to a different church. I didn't want to change. In the beginning, I was outraged that we were going through this "survival of the fittest" study and I kept saying that I wanted to sing "Give Me Back My Hometown" by Eric Church to anyone in the Archdiocese who would listen. I was upset because I felt like we were on the chopping block. I felt the same as everyone else in all the surrounding parishes. But then I had a change of heart.

     I was sitting in Sister Peggy's Catholic Belief and Practice class (or as we liked to call it, Catechism) when it hit me. We were studying the words of the Creed, "One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic CHURCH." Let me repeat, ONE. HOLY. CATHOLIC. APOSTOLIC. CHURCH. When we were first discussing this concept, I shared a story about attending Mass in foreign countries. No matter what country I was in, the Mass was the same. The language might have been different, but the Mass was the same and I knew I was in good company. Although I may not have understood the words, I understood that we were one, holy, catholic, apostolic church. Studying the depth behind those words, I became to advocate not against the Archdiocese but rather, with them. 

      For years, since I could drive, really, I've been considered a church hopper. You know, someone who just church hops and doesn't always go to her home Parish for Mass. My reasons stemmed from needing to go to an earlier Mass to having a church date with a close friend. But more often than not, when I was home, I was at my Parish for Mass. Even if I wasn't seen at Sunday Mass there (the best dates take place on Sundays), I was usually at daily Mass. Of course, this busy girl sometimes needed to get to an earlier Mass, so even then I would travel to a closeby church for an earlier Mass. Last Summer, our Pastor presented the idea of an earlier Mass at our Parish to the daily Mass goers. While everyone was deliberating in the pews, I listened. Some wanted, some didn't. Finally, being the youngest in attendance, I raised my hand. The congregation quieted and let me speak. I mentioned that "while an earlier Mass would be ideal for me, I'm not tied to going to the 9:00 AM Mass because I can drive. I don't walk to Mass, I don't carpool, I don't need the later start in the day. When I need an earlier Mass for something, I go to a different Parish. We have a cluster for a reason: to depend on one another." My end resolve was to say that the 9:00 AM Mass works for St. Thomas, it always has. We are all one church and our loyalties aren't to the Parish, but rather to the faith. So, if need be, the other churches provide a means for me to practice to my faith. My biggest emphasis was not the matter of times for Mass, but rather that we are ONE. HOLY. CATHOLIC. APOSTOLIC. CHURCH. 

       This morning, as I was driving to the new 6:30 AM mass at my Parish (I must admit, I'm extremely in favor of this addition!), I was thinking once again of our ONE. HOLY. CATHOLIC. APOSTOLIC. CHURCH. Today, July 1st, 2014, marks the beginning of the mergers. I know full well that people are still upset. St. Thomas Aquinas merged with St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and I know that it might be a hard adjustment for many. For the people of St. E's, I say this, my parish is not your parish and your parish is not my parish. Rather, this is OUR parish now; we are ONE. For the people of St. Thomas, I say this, remember that according to our creed, we are HOLY; be HOLY. To our priests and pastors, remember this, we are CATHOLIC. Our loyalties should be to none other than the faith. And to all of us, including myself, we must be APOSTOLIC to one another's needs during this time of change. We are the CHURCH. 

      This merge will be difficult for everyone if we do not remember that we are one, holy, Catholic, apostolic church regardless of where we go. Change is something even the apostles experienced. Remember how Jesus said, "leave behind everything and follow me." So go where Jesus goes, my friends. Change is inevitable in every aspect of life. We have the choice to grow. I suggest we look at this concept of merging with a positive outlook. It is not one Parish being taken away, and one remaining. It is not that one survived the chopping block and the other did not. It is not and will never be the survival of the fittest. We are ONE. We are (should be) HOLY. We are CATHOLIC. We are APOSTOLIC. We are the CHURCH. No single Parish is closing. But rather, just as the church sign out front of Our Lady of Fatima says, we are growing and changing. My challenge to all of us, including myself, is to embrace that which we profess every Sunday. We must be the ONE, HOLY, CATHOLIC, APOSTOLIC CHURCH. And hey, since mi casa es su casa, there's always room in my pew. Happy Birthday to our new St. Thomas Aquinas Parish. Welcome Home. 

A Homecoming of a Different Kind

"Home, let me come home.

Home is wherever I am with you.

Mama, I'm coming home."

- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

     There were more Sisters than usual at daily Mass on Saturday and the Motherhouse was covered in Sunflowers. I could hear the beautiful voices of my Sisters as I sat in the back part of Chapel among them. Right before Mass started, I got a huge hug from behind. Who was the culprit? None other than my newest best friend, Sister Margaret Peter. I held onto her tight, kissed her cheek and smiled. What a dearheart, I thought. Students always hate seeing their professors outside of school, but I love seeing my co-workers, my fellow teachers outside of the classroom, especially when it's a Sister. As angelic voices floated throughout the Chapel, I felt my heart beat uncontrollably in my chest. There was a peace, a continued peace of the past few weeks spent at the Motherhouse and on Campus with the Sisters, and I couldn't have been anymore grateful. 

     After Mass, after hugging all the Sisters who were there early to set up or help with food, I took a seat in the Portress office with my good friend, Erin. There we chatted about life, and watched as the Sisters continued to run into each other and spread love. I couldn't help but laugh every time a Sister ran down the hallway at one of her good Sister friends just for a hug. There was so much jubilation and hugs and nicknames; I wanted so badly to be a part of it. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I said something like that, a Sister ran down the hallway...at me. You should have seen my smile. I was so happy to see her, I just kept hugging her. Of course, after she, at least five more of my dear Sisters from all over came through the Portress office and there were just hugs galore. 

     I was smiling ear to ear as some of my dear Sisters, after having seen me in the distance, walked (or ran) toward me with hands in the air so happy to see me. How humorous it is to see Sisters running toward you when usually you are the one running toward them. I received more hugs than I thought humanly possible in less than an hour. I saw some of my dearhearts from home, some from around town and of course, from the Motherhouse. I was in such a happy, go-lucky mood and honestly, nothing could change that for me. 

     When the Mother General walked into the Portress office, I was just explaining to Sister Rose how much I was loving the sunflowers in the Motherhouse. I looked at her and just exclaimed: "There are so many sunflowers everywhere! TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS!" She laughed at me and just shook her head. Often, I am regarded as an entertaining little sister. This was one of those many times. Sister Rose was also laughing at me, but typically that's the majority of our conversation: laughing at and with one another. More and more Sisters began coming through and eventually, I told Erin that I had to leave so I could get some homework done today. As I was leaving the building, plenty Sisters who were driving in stopped the car to roll down their windows and say hello. Some even gave out hugs and kisses. The last person I saw before leaving was my favorite curly hair comrade, Sister Regina. When I get wiser like her, I want beautiful white hair like she has. 

     Part of me wanted to hop, skip and jump home to the dome, but crossing King Road is already dangerous enough. Seeing all those Sisters and those who once were Sisters, sincerely made my heart so happy. The family presented before me was HUGE and so loving. Yes, there are days and times and places, when just like in my own family, Sisters just don't get along. But yet, just as I do with my blood sisters, they love each other through thick and thin. It was a homecoming for those present and past IHMs. Being there to see such beautiful jubilation, if only for a few moments, was a pretty cool thing. It was such an wonderful witness. There wasn't a football game, there were no cheerleaders, just a lot (A LOT) of IHMs. 

     Of course, I think my favorite part of the day was when I kept getting asked if I was staying. I had to laugh; of course I wasn't staying. I was neither part of the past or the present. But the idea of future was mentioned. I smiled. Once again, I felt like family; a little sister. I felt in my heart that no matter where I end up, no matter what community I join, I will always somehow be welcomed home to this place of worship and family gathering. There's always going to be a spirit of homecoming for me, I guess. A homecoming of a different kind. 

You Know What I Love? Nuns.

"My Sisters remind me, by their very steadfastness, 

that truth, beauty, and goodness exist in the world, 

and that, no matter what, there are and always will be

people loving people through thick and thin."

- Kim Kardashian 

    I was in rare form tonight at Mass. Okay who am I kidding? I am never in rare form; it's a commonality to hear me laughing the moments before Mass starts because it is the realization of so much joy in my heart. However, there was a bit more spunk in my step (maybe it was my new shoes...) tonight and so after Mass, I hopped, skipped and jumped into the sacristy to see if Sister needed any help. Before I knew it, I was subtly being trained on sacristan duties and being shown where things belonged. Of course, Sister doesn't know this, but she gave me the little sister job in my house (long story short: the littlest sister doing the dishes always dries and puts away): drying! I instantly felt like a little sister. That moment of feeling like a loved little sister came just as I was being handed a towel and another Sister was telling me how much she misses me during morning Mass. Of course, this hasn't been the first time I've felt like a little sister recently. 

    In the past three weeks, I have gotten up before the sun to get ready for my day at school long before school starts. Yes, indeed 5am comes so early, but if you were my dad, you'd say : "About time you start working a real job." Except, sorry dad, it's just student teaching. However, I don't have to be in school until 7:30. So, what am I doing up at 5? Well, you see, I've been getting ready to join my motherhouse Sisters for Mass at 6:30 every morning. Okay, the disclaimer is this: I don't actually get out of bed until 5:30. My poor roommate has to hear me hit snooze three times. It's okay, she likes me enough. Anyway,so at 6:15, I begin the trek over to Mass with the Sisters who have literally taken me under wing. 

    Last weekend was a big weekend for me and many of the on campus Sisters were excited to see me achieve so greatly. Of course, after their messages of congratulations, there was a question of : "Where have you been at Mass? We miss you." I simply smiled and told them that the Motherhouse Sisters were taking care of me. I realized though that a lot of the Sisters didn't realize I was probably out student teaching (of course, I thought they all knew my entire life so....). So, I wrote them all a note, easing their broken hearts and told them to look forward to October 14th, Columbus Day, my only day off from school! My Sisters were missing me and I was feeling the love. For three years they have taken me under wing and suddenly, I have jumped nest. They perhaps are feeling the empty nesting syndrome. Haha, if only!

    In these past few weeks of feeling missed by my campus Sisters and feeling incredibly loved by the Motherhouse Sisters, I have only been able to count my blessings. Over and over I have heard the Sisters say how much they love having me over for Mass, that I should just get a room there (uhmm...let's work on this kay? I would never have to see 5am again...), or that they are proud. I have shared many successes, many trials and many pains with all these Sisters in recent weeks and I have experienced nothing but a continuously listening heart. I have been given more hugs than the average person needs a day (eight..for the record; the average person needs eight hugs a day.) but I guess I'm not an average person. I have been spiritually nourished and simply loved so much.

    But the love is mutual. Every day I thank God for the beautiful witness these lovely ladies show me. I am moved to tears each time I see one Sister look out in someway for another. Whether it's consoling one Sister who lost her best friend, giving one Sister an arm to lean on as she walks, Sisters hugging Sister friends, bands of Sisters laughing, rejoicing over the life of another, Sisters smiling at Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, Sisters being Sisters and loving every moment of it. These Sisters have shown me what it means to truly live for another, especially those closest to them. 

    This morning at Mass, a band* of Sisters got together to celebrate Mass in memory of a member of their band who passed away five years ago. There were three pews filled with Sisters of that band and suddenly, I felt this overwhelming peace. Despite the Sisters not having any descendents, children or grandchildren, seeing all those Sisters there, showed me that the Sisters become family to each other and each others' families adopt the others'. And suddenly, I realized how true this is in my own life. These Sisters have become my family and my family has become their's. I have become a little Sister in a family of Big Sisters. 

     Every day I am in wonder and awe of these beautiful women of God and I don't honestly know if it's possible to love them more. I am so grateful for them in my life. I feel so at peace in this very moment of my life, despite the craziness of student teaching, despite the chaotic class schedules, despite the HUGE amount of homework, and the lack of sleep, I feel so much peace. I know God is with me all throughout my day and I cannot thank Him enough. I surely am so beautifully blessed. 

* band - the group of women with whom a Sister enters the convent at the same time; other names include: group and party. 

Neighbors Are...Methodists and Family

"You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself."

     We were hanging up balloons in the church on the pillars...well, trying to at least. We were failing miserably. The pillars were made of wood and the latex balloons just were not sticking with the scotch tape. There were three of us wrestling with the balloons and tape until finally, Miss Elaine came over to help us out. Here we were doing it all wrong...that was until, well, it popped right in her face. Oops. That's when, out of humorous distress Miss Carol exclaimed: how many United Methodists does it take to hang up a balloon? From a far, Miss Char chimed in: don't blame, her, she's a Catholic. Yep...me. 

     I have been helping out at Vacation Bible School at Wilkinson United Methodist Church for about four or five years now. It's been so many years of fun, that I can't quite remember. I know what you're all thinking: how did I, a little Catholic girl, get mixed up with all those Methodists? Well, there's a few reasons: first of all, the church was where my littlest sister went to Pre-K. Almost all the kids in Croydon go to Pre-K there. Second, both of my sisters have been participating in VBS since God knows when. Third, the church is literally right across the street from my house. And finally, Miss Elaine takes her pets to my mom's work, and off the cuff, my mom volunteered me. It's been uphill ever since. I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

     I can remember the first moment all the volunteers found out I was the lone Catholic girl. It started with a mention that no one had ever seen me in church before. It grew to confessing I go to a different church and then quickly escalated to admitting I'm a Catholic...a proud one. I have always, since I was a little girl, been fascinated with religion. Not simply my Catholic faith, but all religions, their practices, their beliefs, everything. I immediately wanted to know everything about what it meant to be Methodist. And what could have easily turned into a "we're very different" chat, actually developed into a five year faith sharing process. 

     I love my Methodist family. I seriously just love them. Now that I've been volunteering with them a few years, being the lone Catholic girl has become a friendly joke and a beautiful thing. I can't tell you how much faith sharing I have done with these beautiful people. The only time I really do get to see them is during VBS which saddens me a bit, but alas, all in God's good time. I am constantly reminded by my dear friends that I am Catholic and that they love that about me. I have literally been accepted into their family and loved just the same. This whole idea has changed my life in so many ways, but especially because they have put into practice loving their neighbors as themselves and loving those who are different. I tell them we are like a family, each loved for our differences. It's like growing up in my family: my sisters and I are very different, yet I love them each for the different gifts they offer. My Methodist family has reminded me by their example to continuously love those around me who have even greater differences. 

     Like I said, my Methodist family is always reminding me of my Catholic faith, for example, Miss Char's exclamation of : "don't blame her, she's a Catholic." This week of VBS has been so beautiful for me especially in proclaiming my faith. Before, my Catholic faith was something I avoided talking about with them, if only to avoid awkward conversation. However, they have lead me on to holiness in a way that I openly proclaim my faith to them. This week, as many of you may know, we celebrated a Holy Day of Obligation in our Catholic Faith: the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. On Wednesday night of Bible School, I went around reminding each of my little ones from our Parish, that they had to get to Mass the next day. I could see some of my dear friends looking on intriguingly. I didn't think anything of it. 

     Our Mary day came and went, and by Friday of Bible School, my heart was heavy. Like I said, I only get to really see my Methodist family once a year during VBS. I got there a little earlier to help my partners in crime, Miss Christine and Miss Kelsey, set up our "classroom" for our final night. Before I knew it, there was a crowd of people just mingling in our "classroom" before going up to the sanctuary. I guess I mentioned that I got up early and went to Mass and conversation sparked from there. We talked about how I go to Mass every day, how it's not an obligation, but rather only on Sunday and Holy Days, like Thursday. That's when Miss Char starts stumbling over a question she wanted to ask me. At first, I thought I knew what she wanted to ask me, but then she was having trouble formulating the words. Everyone was giving her a look that was between confusion and laughter. Finally she goes: have you ever, ya know, thought about becoming a nun? I smiled and nodded, knowing that was what she had been trying to say the whole time. I never really expected what happened next. Miss Char's eyes, after hearing me say that I have been thinking about entering religious life ever since I was little, started filling up with tears. I almost started crying. We quickly hurried up the stairs to get our students and start our final lesson. But at the end of the night, when I was saying my goodbyes to my dearheart Miss Carol, and Miss Char, I was told: I would literally love to have you as my daughter or granddaughter. You're going places, kid. I know it. 

      Over the week, the respect I gained for not only my eventual profession as a teacher but also my vocation grew immensely. Even though I am studying to be a high school teacher, teaching my little ones is always a blessing. I love doing teachery things and VBS is definitely one of them. But of course, vocation, as a discerner to religious life, stems from that as well. I always expect people to ask questions, even my Catholic Parish family, and so often people fulfill my expectations. I was never expecting to topic of discerning to even make a debut at VBS with my Methodist family, but Miss Char cut straight to the chase. I expected questions to follow, and eventually they did, but I never expected the tears. Miss Char, without knowing it, reminded me of the reason why I ever started discerning in the first place: the very beauty of it all. 

     I can honestly say that over the past seven years of open discernment to the religious life, there have been times when I feel as if I have fallen into a routine of discernment. There are many times where, although I know I am no where near being an official sister, I feel as if I am because I have been a part of the life for so long. There are times when I forget why I fell in love with Jesus so much in the first place. I can't tell you how many times in the past seven years that I have shed tears because I have truly known the love from Jesus and His continuous call for me. And yet, there are times when I forget this. Perhaps I hadn't forgotten it this time, but I know I wasn't thinking about it. Yet, Miss Char reminded me so beautifully that truly this is the vocation I feel so called to in this life. Yes, last night, as I prayed to thank God for such a beautiful week with such beautiful people, I cried because of His ultimate goodness. Oh He is just so good to me. 

    This week during Vacation Bible School we taught our students all about neighbors, both here in the USA and all over the world. We learned what makes up a good neighbor: friendliness, a giving, welcoming and forgiving attitude and boldness. We learned that no matter what our differences, we must always love and care for one another because we are all brothers and sisters with God as our father. And as for me, while it wasn't in the written curriculum, I learned not only the obvious (my neighbors are Methodist) but that as neighbors we must always uplift and support one another in everything we do; we must continuously pray for the to persevere in each one's vocation. Yep, I learned a little bit, too. 

     And so, I've got two questions for my Methodist family: Will you come to my final vow ceremony? And can I come back to help at VBS as a Sister?! 

(The Song for this Post can be found by using the following link: http://vimeo.com/60015661)

It is my favorite VBS song from this year :)

    

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. 

For Whom The Bell Tolls

"So this bell calls us all;

Know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."

- "Meditation 17," John Donne

     "These are my favorite of all days," I told Sister Maureen when she walked into the front office a half hour before First Communion was set to begin. Usually, when I am at work, I am working on some homework. Okay, that's actually false. Most times, I am reading and drinking coffee/tea. But some times, that reading has to do with a class I am in. Other times, I just find myself writing poetry or letters. It's usually quiet at the Fortress Portress on Saturdays, save for the occasional visitor but Sister doesn't really stay very long. There are rarely any visitors who need to gain entrance through the front door and the phone barely rings. It's quiet, so I open the window, let the breeze come in and sip my tea quietly as I read or write my poetry. But yesterday was completely different.

     Sister Susan came bustling in after 9:15 am Mass and asked if I was ready. Well, for what, I wasn't quite sure. So she quickly and excitedly informed me that the second grade girls from the academy would be making their First Communion in a few hours. Suddenly, my whole day was turned upside-down. No homework would be getting done and probably no reading either as this was a day I really had to pay attention to the front door. Suddenly, I was over-joyed and my heart was ready to sing. Mass was set to begin at eleven and people began coming at ten. I couldn't wait. 

      Of course, my fellow Portress girls know that there is a camera at the front door where we watch anyone who is entering. However, people who rarely frequent the Motherhouse don't understand how the front door works. There's a door bell, you usually ring that. However, people can never find it. So, often we just unlock the door from our seats but when we do, it makes a loud alarm noise. It freaks people out and quite honestly, it becomes a source of entertainment for all of us on big days like these. Especially when the younger children try to open the door. On many occasions, I have unlocked the door for a kid and instead of pulling open the door, he will run in and out of the door a million times until his parents come. Then his parents do the same thing. Trust me, it's actually pretty entertaining. 

     On this beautiful day, so many little children, baby brothers and sisters, were running all over the foyer to the Chapel. I couldn't stop smiling. Anytime there are little ones around, I instantly remember my family, which is full of little kids. I am always, as you may have read, the big kid chasing the babes. Essentially, I take care of them all and it's fantastic. So, I was sitting at my desk in the portress office wishing I was with my family on a beautiful like this and then realizing that in less than a week, I would be seeing them. My two little cousins, Claire and Mackenzie will be making their First Communion. There will be a huge family party at the new big house and all my baby cousins will be there. Of course, this also means I will get to see, hold and spoil my God-Daughter. Seeing all the little ones running in and out of Chapel reminded me of that and I was over-joyed with a few of them decided to make the front office a play room. I didn't mind. I hope the sisters don't.....

      I could literally feel in my heart so much happiness. I heard someone shush in the hallway and I knew that it had to be the girls getting ready to line up and enter the Chapel. I jumped out of my seat and stood in the hallway. Each of the girls had their prayer hands folded, smiles draped across their faces and excitement bursting from their hearts. They looked like little princesses and I wished them all congratulations before they went in. Sister Nancy and Sister Maureen Ruth were walking with the girls and I felt so much solidarity with what they were feeling; pure joy. Then suddenly, right before they entered the Chapel, the bells began chiming and I was reminded of how I feel in love with Jesus. 

      Bells. Bells. Bells. Every time I hear church bells, my heart feels ready to explode. I am suddenly taken back to a Spanish Monastery in the days of Teresa of Avila. I feel like a Carmelite nun working the Garden when suddenly the bells remind me and call me to prayers. Bells are the soundtrack to how I fell in love with Jesus. From my room at school, I can hear the bells of Camilla ring at noon and then at six and then again at seven. When I am at work, no matter what the weather, I always throw open the window at six and at seven just to hear the bells. When I go to Mass at the Motherhouse, like I did this morning, I can only feel so much peace in my heart when Sister Marjorie sets off the bells to signal the beginning of Mass. Whenever I hear bells, I instantly am reminded of this vocation Jesus has placed in my heart and I can only say YES YES YES to Him. 

      Right before the girls entered Chapel, I  noticed Sister Nancy place her hand on the shoulder of the girl closest to her. This little girl looked up at her, smiled and in an instant, I was reminded of how I felt on my first communion. I can only speculate that this little girl may have felt a calling in her heart, but I  know that on my First Communion, I felt it. It wasn't about the party, the presents or the cake after Mass; it was about Jesus during Mass. I couldn't wait to finally have Jesus truly in my heart. And I can distinctly remember Sister Thomasita (God bless her soul) telling me all about how Jesus loves me more than I can ever imagine; that's what First Communion was all about. Without really knowing it, I had this joy, this desire, this longing for Jesus more than just in Communion but to be his bride forever. Oh, thinking about it now even sends shivers done my spine. It's like when you realize that your husband and wife (before you're married) is actually the one. I knew that Jesus was the one at eight years old (technically I was only seven...I turned eight three days later). 

       When I think back on how I fell in love with Jesus, I remember those instances of being at the convent or seeing a sister and just feeling simple awe. I remember wanting to know the mystery of what being a nun/sister was. And every time I would hear the bells, I would wonder what they were really doing. Those bells, no matter where they are, call to me, they fill my heart with such a longing for Jesus. They fill my heart with mystery of what religious life really is. Because as much as I know, I don't know. There is still the mystery there. Of course, as I get older and more into finding the specifics of religious life out (and eventually as I join the community Jesus has prepared for me), the mystery seems to wear off. But every so often, whether I'm standing at my window and I see a Sister walking, quietly, prayerfully down the walkway or I hear her singing in the hallway, or walking the Grotto, that mystery comes back. That awe is re-instilled in me. I know now that sisters are real people who go shopping, who drive cars, who are human and can cry, but there is still a mystery that surrounds them. A mystery that at age eight, I wasn't quite sure meant, but I knew I fell in love with. These beautiful women literally spend each day in love with their creator. And every morning when I go to Mass with them, truly how do we all stop singing His praise?! 

      This weekend, I was so blessed to witness just under twenty little girls make their First Communion. By their witness, the mystery of my love relationship with Jesus came back so greatly in my heart. They do not realize it, but they each helped remind me why and how I fell in love with Jesus. Their little hearts, beating with the ringing of the bells in excitement for this COMMUNION OF SOULS reminded me of my vocation, of the mystery of the sisters and of the mystery in my own heart. And Jesus, I could't be any more grateful. I feel this calling SO LARGE in my heart and I CANNOT keep from singing Your Praise. The mystery is flooding my heart! Thank you, Jesus.

Yes, These Are OUR Spoons

"Take my heart, O Lord, take my hopes and dreams,

Take my thoughts, O Lord, and my memory, 

Takes my tears, my joys, my liberty,

I surrender, Lord, all I have and hold. 

I return to you, your gifts untold.

Give me nothing more than your love and grace, 

these alone, oh God, are enough for me."

- "These Alone Are Enough," Dan Schutte

    A million and two thoughts were going through my head: what if I missed it? is today really April 20th? did that invite say 10 or 11 AM for Mass? who am I going to sit with? I'm going to be the youngest one here; what if my RSVP card never got there? did I mail my RSVP card? oh no. And then, I pulled down the visor in the truck, looked in the mirror and heard the voice, "Shush. Peace. You look beautiful in black and white." I smiled gently, talked some confidence into myself and then jumped down from the Driver's Seat. I walked the same walk from the back parking lot that I have always walked and it was as if every footstep I every took, was pulling me forth again in peace and beauty. I turned the corner and I was overwhelmed by the "OH MY GOSH. YOU'RE HERE!" and the image of black and white running (I use that term loosely) toward me. Suddenly, into the arms of my dear Sister Teresa I was huddled. With a sisterly kiss on the cheek, she told me that she had been really thinking about me lately and was hoping she would get to see me today. Ironically enough, I had tried to call her twice last week because she was overwhelmingly on my mind but I got no answer. You know I believe that everything happens for a reason and God definitely wanted this meeting to be of great joy. 

    After a few minutes of chatting with Sister Ter outside, I headed in where I was greeted by a plethora of sisters with various different greetings: "Bec, dear, so good to see you," "Welcome home, dearheart," "Did you get the black and white memo?" and of course, "We've missed you." Hugs and kisses were shared all over in the hallway where it seemed everyone was gathering. I couldn't help but smile as I saw so many faces of sisters I hadn't seen in such a long time, like my sisters from Chicago and my number one girl from Roma. But I still didn't see Sister David, the celebration girl who was the main reason I found myself once again at Infant Jesus. We share a similar spirit, so I wasn't surprised when I saw her bustling from person to person down at the other end of the hallway. Mass was to begin soon and so, we all found our seats in Chapel. Those few quiet minutes before Mass truly opened my heart to what was happening before my eyes. 

     It's not every day one gets invited to a Jubilee. Most often, we find ourselves at grand-parents' and parents' anniversary dinners and parties, but seldom do we find ourselves at Jubilees. Of course, it's not a common word in day to day conversation. So, what is a Jubilee? A Jubilee is that special word synonymous with Anniversary (synonymous is my favorite word this week!) and is used to describe a special amount of years in a Sister or Religious' life. A few weeks ago, I received another one of those fancy CSFN cards in the mail. This one was an invitation to Sister David's 50th Jubilee. That means, she's been in community...a really long time. Now, when one thinks of 50 years of marriage or in the convent, one often associates that with a very long life. But having entered as an aspirant (at the time, this was a young girl was looking to enter fully into the community upon high school graduation; she was aspiring...) after the 8th grade, Sister David has such spunk and life about her. She's a young golden Jubilarian! As she was bouncing through the hallway this morning before Mass, it was so obvious that she had spent the last 50 years of religious life happily, despite any struggles, and with her Beloved. 

      I felt so honored to be a part of her celebration today. There are many things I love about Sister David, as she was the very first sister to open up to me about the "mysteries" of religious life AND the first sister I ever opened up to about discerning these mysteries. I could always count on her to be happily singing in the hallways or praying in Chapel with me in high school. After high school, she turned my ring then hugged me off and sent me away to school, knowing that this was the best thing for me at the time. She has given up countless afternoons to share time with me and has spent so many hours praying those prayers she promised me. She's wiped tears, she's shared smiles, she's encouraged me with song, kind words and extra love. She became for me not only a confident, but a dear sister to my heart and of course, above all, an inspiration and sometimes the sole encouragement for me to continue on my own journey of discernment. To be with her this afternoon released such gratitude in my heart for her presence in my life. I, of course, began to think of my own celebrations, first when entering and then my own celebrations. I could easily close my eyes and see all my sisters hustling and bustling around Chapel and welcoming family members of mine on the day when finally I give a final, solid, forever YES to Jesus while I would be pacing in extreme nervousness. When Sister David recited her renewal of vows, I could not help but smile and hold down the butterflies of love in my stomach. It was so beautiful. Of course, the moment she brought up all those people who had helped shape her vocation, my own heart was making it's own list. My heart was ready to explode for happiness for her.

      That happiness continued downstairs in the dining room when surrounded by her sisters and her family and friends, she joyfully celebrated. There was much laughter, many stories and so much to be thankful for. In fact, it reminded me of a much (MUCH) smaller version of my family at celebrations. It felt like home. I had to sit back and soak it all in as my heart was experiencing such happiness. I watched as the sisters each helped each other out, making sure the day continued to be special for Sister David. Of course, my favorite part was that her family easily interacted with the sisters and vice versa, just as I had so often seen my family do with the sisters! To me, it shows such love and support; I couldn't help but thank God for that example. 

       A little after the meal was "dying down," I saw the same super exuberant sister subtly cleaning up. So, I sneaked away from my table and offered my hands. What happened next was literally the most hilarious series of events that could literally only happen in the convent. It first started with snuffing out Sternos with a metal spoon. I am never surprised when I am taught a new convent trick and it is one hundred percent effective and efficient. Quickly moving on, I found myself drying the dishes (as per tradition) (side story: in my house, when we do dishes, the younger sisters dry while the older sisters wash. Apparently, the convent follows this because without a doubt, I am always handed a towel). Every so often, while in the middle of drying a large chafing dish, I would feel a splash of water. Ironically, Sister Ter noticed and started laughing while telling a story of this happening previously. I mentioned that this was very Therese of her and so we continued to call the act of washing and drying dishes, practicing our St. Therese act. Half way through our "St. Therese Act" we came to a pivoting, puzzling point: whose spoons were whose. You see, the meal was catered and the caterer brought his own spoons, but because the sisters are efficient, they added their own. But now they were mixed. In my hand, I was drying a handful of spoons. Without really thinking about it, I said, "Well, these are our spoons for sure." Suddenly one sister said to another sister, "did you hear that?" I put the spoons away and Sister Ter goes, "Yes, they are OUR spoons, Bec. OUR spoons." Then, laughing hysterically, we unknowingly decided that in addition to washing the dishes, we were also going to mop the floor as suddenly a huge wave of water came up over the sink and landed on the floor. Yes, essentially, we were like a bunch of young sisters in the kitchen and I was part of the family once again. 

      Later, after all the dishes were washed, dried and put away, and the tables reset and the trash taken care of, we praised the gift of teamwork and community and headed in our separate directions. Sister Ter gave me a huge hug and told me that she thoroughly enjoyed my very casual usage of the word "our." I couldn't help but shake my head, laughing, at this woman who has literally stood by my side through every up and down in high school, just as so many sisters. From the very first math test I failed, to the moment on Kairos when I just couldn't stop crying, to these moments like today where we can share in the happiness of my future as a religious sister. Yes, every time I go home to Infant Jesus, I am welcomed in with warm arms, and reminded of how much I am loved and prayed for. When Sister David came up to me in the kitchen in the middle of our St. Therese Act to thank me for my help in cleaning up, I simply responded with, "Sister, I know that in a few years, you'll be doing the same for me. Just...pay me back later." There is always hope for my future as a religious sister. Sisters often remind me of how much I have grown from a little, awkward, Freshmen girl at NA to my young lady self. When I look in their eyes, I can easily see happiness and I wish only to have that happiness. I know that for my sisters, I am the baby, making baby steps day by day until the day I can stand before that altar and sing my vows out to God on high. 

      And so, at the end of the celebration, I had so much to truly think about and for which to be thankful. The truth is, I told many people today that next year is my last year of college. To them and to me that is a sign that I am so close to achieving this plan God has in store for me. Of course, many have asked, not only today, if I am entering right after college. And I can only give the honest truth that right away after college is not really an option as I must get some real life experience in my career field and pay off my loans. Who knows how long that will take, but to be honest, like my sisters, I can easily see my future straight ahead as a religious sister. It's as if it is almost in grasping reach and while that is terrifying, it is terrifyingly exciting. 

    Witnessing Sister David renew her vows today reminded me that this life is so beautiful and most definitely for me. I couldn't help but feel my heart so overwhelmed with love for the religious life. But most importantly, I could hear Sister David's words echo in my heart, "Jesus has been the Center of my Life for my whole life long." She instilled in me so much encouragement to keep on this journey. My dear Sister Teresa reminded me once again how much I am loved and that when the day comes, she will be hustling and bustling around making sure everything is perfect. Of course, in those moments right before Mass will begin and I will be a nervous wreck, they both, and I'm sure my entire entourage of sisters will be right there praying with me. I can see that day ever so clearly in my mind, but most importantly in my heart. Yes, my heart beats at it's truth. I know God is calling me on to sharing much more than spoons with these lovely women, more like an entire lifestyle, a life dedicated to Him and all He asks of me and a family, a family that is the entire world. So, to some up my day and my life in one phrase, "Yes, these are OUR spoons."

Breaking Down Stereotypes - Anywhere With You

"I'll go anywhere.

I travel light and my bags are packed.

Just as long as I'm where you're at, 

I'm gonna have a real good view. 

I'll go anywhere, anywhere with you."

- "Anywhere With You," Jake Owens

    Imagine: You're a freshmen in high school and you find out your Theology teacher is a nun. Go figure. You're not only new at school, but you still have this idea that nuns are going to kick your butt. You sit silently as the young nun in front of you tries to start prayers. This woman in front of you is a ball of mystery and you're intrigued. 

    It's not that hard for many of you to imagine. Perhaps you were a few years younger and in grade school when the nuns taught you. Maybe you were a little but more terrified because the nuns were stereo-typically  harsh and cruel to any bad students. Maybe you never spoke in class because nothing you could possibly say would have been right. Many of you reading this have had a sister in the classroom at some point in your life and so, going back to those moments isn't hard. 

    Now imagine: Sister is trying to start the YouTube video for prayers when suddenly there's a knock on the classroom door. You have no idea who these two young women are, except one appears familiar to you. Sister stops what she is doing, throws her hands in the air and almost picks up the taller of the two, the one who seems familiar. After a few seconds of joyful conversation, Sister goes back to prayer. The two strangers stand there, heads bowed in prayer. You try so hard to pay attention, but you can't stop thinking about where you've seen the one young woman before. After prayers, the two quietly tell Sister they have to leave but before the walk out, Sister mentions something about having a movie date again soon. Then the familiar girl laughs, asks Sister if she wants to go Ice Skating later that night and you remember where you saw her: the other night at dinner...out with another sister. 

     Your first reactions? Nuns go ice skating? Nuns leave the convent? Nuns have friends? Who is this girl? Why does she hang out with nuns all the time? Is she serious? She's not a nun but...maybe? Ironically, as I was leaving the classroom atmosphere I just described (yes, I was that girl who interrupted class), I heard the class begin to whisper all of these questions. I had to laugh at the girls and my sister, who was with me, casually said, "Don't they know she's a cool nun?" 

     Often, I forget that it's a little "abnormal" to hang out with nuns so much. I forget that walks in fly helicopters, or drives across the city, or invitations to go ice skating is normal until nuns are involved. Most people are shocked when they see sisters or priests out in public, but why? I simply giggle and move on. Yes, we often get questioning glances, or even sometimes we meet extremely brave people who ask the questions everyone else is thinking. I watch as my sisters shrug, smile and answer the questions. It doesn't bother them....it doesn't bother me. My sisters are just as real as you and me. And I guess that's why I really often forget that it's "abnormal." Oh well...

      Yesterday, I partook in my own personal "Convent Run." I started with interrupting classes at Nazareth with my real life, blood sister, then I ran to visit Sister Phyllis, then after having been in my house no less than a half hour, I was out the door again to visit with my lifelong cheerleader at Santucci's and then finally a night of feeling old and out of shape at the skate rink with my partner in crime. Each time I walked out the door, my mother asked me where I was going. My answer? The convent, Mom. Don't worry, I'm with the nuns. It's a common joke in my family that while most people think when a person is hanging out with the Sisters, there would be no trouble. But when Becca hangs out with the Sisters, there is always trouble. 

      I was already thanking God for the amount of blessings He was giving me before I left Nazareth. Little did I know, He would continue to shower me with blessings. Not knowing it at the time, I wound up spending a good few hours chatting it up with Sister Phyllis and ironically most of it was about my girl Katie D, better known to the world as St. Katharine Drexel. As we were chatting, I could feel nothing but blessings from the good Lord above. I am so spoiled, I decided. God is so good. The adventure continued when while I was with Sister Phyllis, Sister Virginia called me. Of course, as usual, she didn't answer when I called back. We're like little kids in the sense that we love to play tag....phone tag that is. 

      But finally, we connected. I told her that I had a few hours before my ice skating adventure and so, within minutes after hanging up the phone, I was in the car headed to her convent. The thing about friends, I have learned, is that if they are true friends, you could go months without seeing them or talking with them and you pick right up where you left off. The last time I had seen Sister Virginia, we were sitting in a corner booth in a restaurant in the middle of August. Cheerleaders, as you know, are there to cheer on their players when they play well AND when their morale is down. She is my cheerleader through and through. This particular time, I was at the verge of tears in that corner booth. I told her how scared I was, how doubtful, how unsure I was about what God wanted me to do with me life. She took my hands and said, "No matter what, I'll always been your number one cheerleader. Whether that means letting you go or welcoming you home, I'll be here for you. Don't ever forget that." And I carried what she said with me through the year. Despite never being able to connect over the phone or email, I knew she was praying for me. And I knew that I had to try all I could to see her before I went back to school. So, we once again found ourselves at a corner booth (this time at the high top tables...oh boy.) and sharing our thoughts. 

      I never gave a second thought to the fact that there I was, sitting in Santucci's with a Sister. We were enjoying pizza and water on a Lenten Friday at a high top table. This time, instead of tears of desperation, I was crying tears of joy and laughter. I was laughing so hard that literal tears were streaming down my face. I was telling her tale after tale of all my adventures. Finally, I told her that God has given me such peace, that I am happy, that I know where God wants me. Once again, just like last time, she took my hands and thanked God with me. There was no question about praying in public, we simply just did it. For me, this was normal, something that brought joy to my heart and truly gave me a vision of future me. Arm in arm we left, laughing and giggling like the two sisters we are. 

      Within minutes of departing from my dear-hearted, Sister, I was headed down the road to pick up my partner in crime, Sister Mary Anthony so we could join my family ice skating. When we arrived on the ice, arm in arm (it's a running theme...) my sisters, my dad and my sister's friends skated over to us absolutely overjoyed. I said to the girls, "I hope you don't mind that I brought my friend with me...do you?" We all laughed. My family, by now is so used to hanging out with the sisters at family functions. There is a beautiful mutual love that makes me feel like I am home. We skated for a straight two hours and I couldn't help but laugh as the Older Staff Member kept following us around the rink. At first, I didn't think anything of it. But then I thought, oh maybe Sister's veil or skirt is a rink violation, because she wore her habit, you know. Later though, we realized that he was merely intrigued that Sister was out Ice Skating. Of course, a few other random rink kids were also very intrigued. My family and I merely skated. 

      While Sister and I were skating around, I thanked her for being a visible sign for me. I told her that long ago, when I first felt called to this vocation, I had planned on wearing my habit everywhere. It came about when my extended family asked me if I would wear my habit when I was at home at family parties. Without hesitation, I told them that of course I would! Of course, all my uncles asked about the kids who would probably get my habit dirty and various other scenarios since my cousins love me to death and I always wind up dirtier than they do. What's a habit without a little wear and tear? There's nothing a little Tide can't fix! The habit, for me, symbolizes deep simplicity. There are no frills and thrills about a habit. There's no tight waist line or low scoop neck; there's nothing fashionable about it. Yet, I love it. And just like my dear Sr. Mary Anthony, I would wear my habit in the snow, on the ice, on the service sight, basically anywhere. 

      One thing I really didn't realize until now is that her being a visible witness to religious life last night really helped break down some stereotypes. Does anyone know a nun who goes ice skating? Now you do! When my sisters agree to going out with me, whether it's out for Chinese, out for Pizza, out to the Zoo or Ice Skating, they give me hope. They, without knowing it, are helping me help them break down these stereotypes of religious life. My Sisters are real people just like me and you. They are made out of the same flesh and blood (to quote Sister David...) as you and I. These Sisters do so much just as normal people and you can all count on the fact that I will follow their footsteps. Life is a constant adventure and journey of questions and answers, and I hope that because I'll go anywhere, as long as I'm with Him, my friends, family and so many others can begin to have a clearer view of this beautiful, religious life. Amen? Amen!