A Week of Little Miracles

"I still get wildly enthusiastic about the little things...

I play with leaves, I skip down the street and I run against the wind."

- Leo F. Buscaglia

     One of my most favorite things in the world is feeling the wind. Literally, I love having my hair blow in my face or my skirt get rustled or even just the breeze on my cheek. DISCLAIMER: I do NOT like the harsh, bitter, angry winds of winter that cause my face to get all crackled and yucky. I'm a fan of the spring breezes that come when the sun is shining on my face. I like the wind that comes when you're driving down the highway with the windows down on the way to the beach. I love standing in the middle of back campus with my arms spread to the wind, with my eyes closed, imagining that at any moment I might actually be picked up by the wind and be able to fly. 

     This week we have been blessed with a beautiful bout of Spring weather. While I slept most of the day on Sunday (to recover from SEARCH), I have spent the rest of my days enjoying the outside and counting my blessings. On Tuesday, I was so blessed to gather a group of my new SEARCH Family members together and head out to Chipotle (which, if anyone cares, is my FAVORITE "fast food"...you know, if you wanted a lunch date or anything...) In the car, we rolled down the windows, and blasted our SEARCH VII song "Live Your Life." We serenaded the people in the Chipotle parking lot, the people in the Gabriele Library parking lot, our friends who we drove past. We sang at the top of our lungs and felt infinitely free. I guess warm weather can do that to you. This all motivated me to punch out eight pages of my English Seminar Paper (aka the current bane of my existence). 

     On Wednesday, because I had finished so many pages of my seminar paper, I didn't have to go to the library class for Seminar. So, I took a nice long walk while my laundry was being done. I love walking across the street at the Motherhouse, one because I know how far I've walked and two, because usually I'll see a friendly nunny face. This time around, I knew it was a little too early for the nunnies to be out walking, so I was surprised to see not only one, but FOUR sisters. Here's the catch: not a single one of them was an IHM. On my second lap around the building, I met two beautiful Capuchin Poor Clare Sisters. I saw them coming out of the building from a distance and thought immediately that they might be Carmelites. I LOVE CARMELITES. But alas, they were not...and my nunsense should have known better. The Sisters stopped and spoke with me for a while. I told them who I was (a Senior across the street) and we chatted about life. I asked them where they were from (Mexico, originally) and they invited me to come visit their convent in Delaware. They were super cute and precious with their accents and at the end of our conversation asked me if I ever thought about being a Sister because I would make a great one. I smiled and giggled a little before admitting that I had been discerning for quite a few years now. Of course, they promised to pray for me and then we went our separate ways. 

     By the next corner of my walk, two other Sisters, not dressed in a habit, were walking toward me. I greeted them saying, "Hi Sisters," and after they said hello in return, asked how I knew they were Sisters. Well...it's my nunsense, I told them. We laughed and they asked who I was and what exactly brought me over to the Motherhouse on my walks. I explained that I love seeing the nunnies around but also that I love walking over there because of the peace it brings. They also asked about my studies and when I told them I wanted to be a teacher, one Sister said, "Well, maybe you could be a nun." I smiled and asked her if she really thought I could. When she said yes, I thanked her for being another confirmation in my discernment. She smiled and we went our separate ways.

      I couldn't thank God enough for the gift of those random four Sisters who had been such beacons of light on my journey. In a time when I have been stuck choosing between so many goods, these Sisters reminded me of the original joy that brought me to all these choices: pure love of God and a desire for religious life. They reminded me of the joy I have for living and essentially refilled the tank in which held my stamina to plow through this time of intense decision making. As I walked back to do switch my laundry, I couldn't help but spread open my arms and let the Lord "sweep me off my feet" again. 

      On Thursday, the working day was long. I can't even really remember what I did at work on Thursday but I remember this: lunch and walks with Sis afterward. It was later in the afternoon than usual when we "got done" work and she decided she was going to lunch in the caf. I asked if I could join. We strolled into the caf to find it mostly empty since it was past prime feeding time at the zoo...I mean, past normal lunch time for most students...except for a few tables, one of which was a table of all my friends. We do this thing where we try to fit as many people around a round table as possible. It's quite obnoxious really and there's not rhyme or reason. Not a single one of us has ever thought of maybe sitting at a long table where we could all fit comfortably. Nope, we like the round table. So anyway, Sis and I pick up lunch and since my table of friends was really crowded, we sat at the round table next to them. I told Sis, "We need to be extra loud so they are all jealous of our two person table." She laughed and even one of my friends switched tables. 

       After enjoying almost 45 minutes of simple lunch time conversation, I went out on a whim and asked her if she wanted to join me on a lap around the building...walking that is, not running. Without hesitation she said yes and so off we went on our lap around the building. The thing I love most about Sis is that we can either had a full conversation for hours or we can sit (or walk) in silence. There's no need to fill the silence and when we walked, on occasion there was conversation, but we walked in silence a good amount of the time and I loved that. Finally, it was time to part and as I said goodbye to her for the day, I realized that these are the little moments in life I am truly going to miss when it comes time for me to leave IU. 

      Friday was yet another day of work study with Sis, only this time we moved boxes from one closet in one building to another closet in another building using, of course, a nun gogo mobile. By the time we had finished all of that, there were a few things that needed to be done on the computer and before I knew it, I was back in the office. I took up residency in my favorite chair and as she spoke, I slightly nodded off. I may have actually fallen asleep for a few minutes, but soon she was telling me it was time to call it quits for the day. That's when Sis drove me (and the nun gogo mobile) home. 

       The miracles don't stop there; my weekend was full of them. Saturday night was Mr. IU and I was blessed to be a part of it in two capacities: one as a dancer in one talent act during which we chacha-ed to "Save The Last Dance For Me" and an escort for one of my best friends. Afterward, the night was spent celebrating with friends. Sunday, one of the best days, was the beginning of Holy Week. I found myself singing at the top of my lungs with Sister Regina preparing for the Mass earlier than usual for a Sunday morning. Palm Sunday is probably one of my favorite celebrations at IU because we have a procession from the Rotunda to the Chapel. Also, it's one of the days I get to wake up all the Villa kids with my singing. Sis even "joined the choir" for the morning which was a great moment for us choir kids. During the hours between Masses was our semesterly honors convocation during which I almost cried since it would be my last one. I looked out at the audience and saw my Dad, my little Sister, my friends and...Sis. 

       I can always count on her to be somewhere in the audience during these times of celebration. She has her usual spot and her usual partner in crime most of the time. I can look out and see her standing or sitting there just watching, being attentive and listening to all that is going on. I'm not sure why she makes an appearance all the time; she doesn't have any reason to HAVE to be there but she's there. She's an image of support and love for all the students. She might not know a single person personally getting awarded or participating, but I can guarantee you, she will be there shining as a number one cheerleader for the students at this school. She's always there and I'm glad she's always there. 

        Finally, I think my biggest little miracle came Sunday night during Palm Sunday Mass when I looked up to scan the crowd of students and people. We were singing "Now We Remain" a song I pretty much have memorized from all the years singing it at church. As I was searching the crowd, I saw Sis sitting peacefully with her eyes close just singing her little nunny heart out. That's when a lump rose in my throat and almost couldn't sing for the rest of the hymn. I realized at that moment that of all the people I will eventually have to say goodbye to in these next few weeks, she is going to be the hardest. After Mass I found myself sobbing in Marian chapel (when I say sobbing, I mean gross sobbing...tears and snot down my face, yum). I was thinking of the Sisters, my Sisters, who have basically raised me from baby Freshmen to young college woman Senior who is ready (or not so ready) to conquer the world. I have spent every day of my college career with these women - seeing them at daily Mass and then in classes. I have spent hours laughing with them, chatting with them, loving life with them. They were a family of stability for me for FOUR years and now suddenly, I won't be with them anymore. I think I've spent more time with them than I have with even my friends. As I sobbed a few Sisters walked in through chapel and I didn't do much to hide the tears, I just smiled. Saying goodbye to them is going to be the hardest thing in the world. 

      After crying, I went upstairs to my room and wrote Sis a letter, which we talked about yesterday. I went in for "work study" and spent an hour with Sis chatting about life, the here and now and the future. I cried a little, and there's a lump in my throat now as I write this. We laughed about my yellow ducky umbrella that was causing a commotion in the hallway and discussed dates of summer activities. Oh we did one productive thing for work study yesterday: planned a shopping list for our post-retreat pasta party. I must not forget the productivity! Of course, after all the talking, I wound up being a few minutes late for class but that's really because I stopped to share my umbrella with Sister Annette who was getting pummeled by the nasty sideways rain. I sat in class and smiled; these past few days have truly been a day of little daily miracles. If I was open to the idea of baby miracles, I would have never noticed how blessed I had been last week simply because of the conversations that took place or the silence my heart was given. I am so blessed by little miracles. Of course, I think I'm really thanking God for each of those little moments whether it's a few minutes of a conversation or a walk around campus in silence that was spur of the moment with my sisters. Truly these girls are my miracles everyday. They give me so much life and they may never know how much of an influence they have had on my life. They have helped me grow into who I am today and I cannot be anymore grateful. The truth is I'm not ready to say goodbye, so until the time comes, I'll be embracing these little miracles day by day. 

What Color Is Red?

"I can't remember my exact reactions. I know they were varied - 

a mixture of surprise, disappointment, awe over horror, 

but also contentment - resignation and even joy."

- Sister Mary Avellino, IHM

     "What color is red?" or in Spanish, "Que color es rojo?" was a phrase that essentially summed up our trip to Peru. Whether we were red with embarrassment, red with laughter, or red with sunburn, our white, American faces were almost always red and Sister Marie never let us forget. She would always ask sarcastically, "What color is red?" and we would all laugh. Even driving to the airport on Thursday night we were still repeating the phrase over and over with every new adventure in the car. However, the final time we asked the question, it was serious. What color is red? We all said together and I answered, "Red is the color of our eyes and cheeks after we have been crying so hard and so long." And that was the truth. 

     After finally checking in for our flight and checking our bag, we joined the sisters for some last Quatro Day (that is, 4D ice cream...the best) in the airport before heading into security. Eight of us sat around one tiny, little, round table and laughed our last laughs together and took our last pictures. My heart was melancholy and yet, rejoicing in the goodness of God. Finally, it was time to go through security ... and time to say our final goodbyes to the sisters at the gate. One by one we each hugged each other and my eyes, the eyes that never, ever cry in public, began to water. There was no escaping it, no avoiding it, not forgetting to cry. No, with each hug, my face got wetter and wetter. And there was no embarrassment. I just cried, because it was like a band-aid: my heart had been operated on, fixed and made for the better. The sisters put band-aid on to help it heal and now, I was able to go home with a brand new and transformed heart. But, I couldn't leave the band-aid on. So, as my big Sisters, the ripped it off and smiled and as they saw how my heart had grown. Gee wiz. Thanks, that hurt. But I knew, I had been changed for the better. And the saying goodbye was just the ripping off of a bandaid. It stung for a while, but now, I can smile and say, I'm glad they changed me.

    Our last week in Peru was a hard one. I realized this while on the bus Monday morning: Grief is so hard when you have to live for the moment even though it is inevitable that something painful will happen soon. For me it was the hardship of having to walk into my classrooms with a HUGE smile on my face despite the fact that I knew in a few days I would be leaving and my heart was already so sad. But, I have had practice hiding my feelings, so for two days, I went in and out of the classrooms smiling and loving each moment. At night, or on the bus when I was able to really think and reflect, I would feel the inevitable pain of knowing I had to leave soon. I am, as I view myself, a person who lives in the moment and so, with each and every moment I was given, I lived it up. 

     During the last two days, all of our students were gradually saying goodbye. Out of the four of us, I was the only one in the secondary grades, that is high school level, as per my major! While it was hard for the others to leave, I am sure, their students were not as upset as mine...so it seemed. For little kids, they are sad for the moment, and then they keep going on with life. While yes they miss those they have met, their comprehension of what would be happening in a few days was little. For my students, they knew what was happening and their hearts were pained by the experience. Each grade had planned some sort of goodbye for me, whether it was a giant card, a song, a speech or a party, each said goodbye in their own way...making it easier and harder for all of us. They had given me the opportunity to have closure and yet, made those last moments more unforgettable than all the rest. 

     Each of the little speeches told me how important I had become in their lives. Some had even gone as far as to say that I was not just a mentor or a teacher for them but a friend. I was almost in tears every time. Some were even wise enough to say that goodbyes hurt more when you do not know when the next time is that you will see each other and isn't that the truth. When it was finally my turn to thank them, from the bottom of my heart I told them that there was no way I could eve forget those days I spent at CSA in Callou. I told them how much they had changed my life by their simply living each day to the full with me both in the classroom and out. I told them how blessed I was to have had the experience of having students and friends. But the most important thing I told them, for me and for them, was that they had become more than students and more than friends; they had become my little sisters.

     Thursday, the day we were leaving, was of course, the hardest. It was the feast of San Antonio, the patron of their school. So, of course, they had an assembly, and a special day. The day before they had adoration all day which I was so blessed to spend some time at. The assembly was fantastic but what was even better was the free time (or not so free time....pretty sure my girls were all skipping class) we had afterward to simply say our goodbyes. While I absolutely loved every moment in the classroom, I loved being able to just hang out with the chicas. We took tons of pictures, had lots of laughs and told even more stories. In fact, we even found a name for ourselves: the Quiet Llama Chicas. Yeah, we are that cute. We spent time just sitting on the floor of the classroom, eating causa and loving life. I wouldn't have spent my last moments with them any other way. Saying goodbye was so hard. 

      We found ourselves back at EIC soon enough and eating on last lunch with the sisters in our house. After lunch, the girls went upstairs to finish packing, but I had some other things to do first. First of all, I had to meet Cesar, the infamous fourth grader at the school and second, I had to go visit Sister Eileen. On my first day in EIC I found myself in her office, so it was only right to go there on my last day. I had wanted to simply give her the "nun mail" from CSA and have a little chat, but God had something else in store. Yes, in fact, He blessed me with one of the most beautiful conversations I have ever had. Sister Eileen, I then understood, had read me like an open book. Amid our tears, she told me how grateful she was for our being there in their convent, the new life we brought to them and all about the ups and downs of religious life. I never cry openly in front of people unless I have known them for a very extensive amount of time, yet there I was bawling my eyes out with this woman of God who so honestly loves Jesus and the work He has asked of her. I was in awe of her, from the very moment I met her (she drove a mean stick shift), at that moment and even now as I think about it. It was certainly a moment in my life I could never, ever forget. And if she ever gets around to reading this, I hope she knows how much I appreciate the color red in our eyes and on our cheeks! 

     I did meet Cesar after that and then quickly headed off to finish some last minute things, like packing and writing. Before we knew it, we were all smushed in a car, just the way we arrived, headed to the airport where we then checked in and had our ice cream and tears. As I sat on the airplane, I looked out my window honestly and cried. I cried because I knew in my heart I had been so blessed. I had been blessed with so many angels and like my girls had said so truthfully, the hardest part about all of these goodbyes was not knowing when I will ever see them again. Leaving everyone was so hard, but I know that because I knew them, I had been changed for good. I can't thank God enough and I can't wait to go back again! Here's to the tears and the laughter that will once again ensue when American me steps foot on Peruvian soil! 

This Ain't Goodbye

"This ain't goodbye, this is just where the love goes. 

This ain't goodbye, it's not where our story ends.

This ain't goodbye, as long as we got time,

this ain't goodbye."

- "This Ain't Goodbye," Train

    In the past week and a half, I've seen a lot of good-byes. I've not only moved back to school for a new semester, but I've also seen off the IHM Novice (and one of my close friends) and I've sent my parting blessings on my AE. If you know me, you know I just don't do good-byes well. Usually, I am a  crying, blubbering, red-eyes, snotty nose, hot mess when it comes to good-byes. Ok, so I know that's gross...but still, it's the blatant, honest truth. In addition to the hot mess, however, I also try very hard to occupy myself with something silly so as not to dwell on the nearing departure. When my final good-bye with my AE was coming, we both let ourselves watch a good two hours of The Peanuts while avoiding the real good-bye. When it was nearing the hour I was meant to leave home to go back to school, I busied myself with making a 12 inch clay model of a leech for my sister's bio project. And when it came time to send off Sister Melissa, we all occupied ourselves with washing dishes until the last possible moment when we all ran down the hallway to wave good-bye. Yeah, I find creative ways to avoid saying good-byes.

     On my last day home, I visited my high school just to give those final good-byes to the sisters. Later that day, I found myself visiting Saint Katherine's to say good-bye to the sisters there. When I was hugging Sister Daniella good-bye, I couldn't help but hang on for an extra long hug. I realized that every time I go back to school, she is one of the last people I see. And no matter what, she is somehow always prepared for some tears. She knows me. Already that day, there were so many good-byes. Later that night, after quite the adventure of leaving keys at home and losing wallets and impromptu visits to grandma's house, I had to say a final good-bye to my Daddy and my little Lizzie. I'll be honest, even after doing this five times before, it gets harder to say good-bye every time and I did shed quite a few tears that night after they left. It's always hard coming back to school, even though I love it so much, because for a few weeks, the schedules are upset and my sisters and I get used to morning Wawa runs and midnight snuggling while watching Disney movies on a school night. It gets harder every time because I get used to food fights in the kitchen with my Daddy and shopping for my Mom. It gets harder every time because I get used to my Frankie knocking me down every time I walk through the front door or my Marina pawing my leg to wake me up in the morning. It gets harder because I just hate good-byes.

     This weekend, I was blessed to be part of the send-off for Sister Melissa. And even though I was super excited for her and somewhat jealous because she would now be living down the hall from Sister Bern, deep in my heart I was sad. I wouldn't see her every so often over at the college nor would I see her late at night in the portress office. And I knew it was hard for her to once again leave a place so familiar to embrace the unknown. As she went around giving us each a hug, there were smiles and tears. I had just previously occupied myself with washing the dishes and really didn't want to think of the reality of her moving away. So I didn't cry then, but later I carried the pain of distance in my heart.

     Tonight, while at Mass, I couldn't get the song, "This Ain't Goodbye" by Train out of my head. So many times before in my life, this song has been key in my emotions. I realized very quickly that all of these good-byes aren't really good-byes. They are more of a "see you later." I will see my AE in a few weekends, when I go and visit her in Chicago. I will see my siblings and family members soon enough too, when I go home for a restocking of shelves...and I will see Sister Melissa well, when she comes back! They were momentary good-byes, but not eternal good-byes. 

     All these good-byes got me thinking about the one other good-bye we all made this past weekend and that was the good-bye to the Christmas Season. Father Chris touched a tad bit on this during his homily tonight and so I simply just have to share. You see, today is the Baptism of Jesus. This day, while coinciding with Father Gillets 200th birthday, marks the anniversary of Jesus' public ministry. It is true that during the Christmas Season, Mass attendance sky-rockets and then once it's over, the pews are just as empty as they were at Thanksgiving. Even in Jesus' real life, once His public ministry began, so many said, "Good-bye, Jesus." It is not ironic that during Mass this song was replaying over and over in my head (during my moments of hot flashes, coughing fits and nose blowing as I have not avoided the common cold....). We cannot make the end of the Christmas Season a good-bye. Because the truth is, just like how it is when Sister Michele, Sister Melissa and my sisters, this isn't where the story ends; we have time. So, this ain't good-bye. We can't let it be a good-bye, we must keep at it! We must keep loving! And when we don't say good-bye, there's no knowing how God might surprise us next! So remember, this ain't good-bye.