Silly Putty Heart

"Sometimes I think the heart is like silly putty: 

flexible, lovable, impressionable, and able to wrap itself around anyone and anything.

The heart can be stretched so greatly, which is great.

But then, like silly putty, if stretched in two opposite directions too much, 

it might snap."

- A Becca Original

     Yesterday, I was feeling incredibly stretched. Maybe I have written about stretching in the past, maybe not. But stretching is a good thing. Think of dancers who not only stretch before they practice or perform, but also after. It adds incredible flexibility to the body. Think of pizza makers who need to stretch the dough so as to make the best pizza. Think of even rubber bands that need to stretch to keep things together. Stretching, one can see, is clearly something that is good. However, dancers will tell you that sometimes stretching pulls a muscle, pizza makers will tell you that sometimes the dough stretches too far and a hole emerges and sometimes the rubber band snaps. Stretching the human heart can be somewhat similar. 

     Today I write about how much my heart loves and with loving much also comes susceptibility to much hurt. I always knew that I was one to love much; I was born compassionate toward others. However, I didn't know that loving much had great consequences like immense hurt. The good news about this is that God loves you through the hurt; He stretches you. I didn't like stretching at first, much like the young dancer. I just wanted to dance; I just wanted to love. Many around me spoke to me about stretching, telling me it was a good thing. It was a lesson I needed to learn: in order to dance the best, I first needed to stretch. And so, God gave me many opportunities to stretch so that I could learn to love even more greatly. 

     While I learned that stretching was such a good and healthy thing for me and even began speaking about the stretching one endures in order to gain strength, myself. However, there was something rarely anyone spoke about and it was the very fact that stretching hurts sometimes. I never really focused on the pulled muscles, holes in the dough or snapped rubber bands. Why? Well that was negative and why focus on that? But the truth is, I was avoiding the truth. I kept telling myself that stretching is good, stretching will make me better, stretching will help me love. But there was always this little voice saying, "Well then why does it hurt so much?"

      Many of you know that the way I deal with conflicts of the heart is by seeking the advice of others. In recent months I have found myself many times in multiple offices around campus seeking the advice of my older, wiser, sisters. Of course, these are the Sisters who know quite a lot about me, some who have been with me from day one on campus. The future is both terrifying and exciting which led me quite a few times even this week to Sisters' offices and I think it can go without saying, but there were tears, too. In talking with Sister Cathy about the future, mi futura she called it, she reminded me of stretching. She reminded me that I will always have options and God will lead me to the right one. She encouraged me to keep going and keep on keeping on. I left her office feeling at peace, even though I had not truly made a decision about a topic. Just simply talking about my future with her allowed peace of mind for me for the time being. But of course, I'm a great thinker and with great thinking comes great worrying. Slowly, the worry slipped back in. I sought solace a harsh reality aspect from Sister Elaine and of course, I poured my heart out in the portress office to Sister Lorraine because I asked her to pray for me. All three times I was on the verge of tears...because I was being stretched and it hurt. 

     Yesterday, after I spoke with Sister Elaine, I went back to my room for a little bit truly felt in my heart the pain of being stretched. Because I am a writer, I needed to write a metaphor of how I was feeling. I'm not a dancer (anymore...once in my heyday of five years old, I did ballet) and so I couldn't equate my heart to the actual stretching the dancer does and I am most definitely not a pizza maker. And while I've definitely had a number of rubber bands snap on me, that just didn't seem quite like the right metaphor. Thats when I remembered one of my favorite toys as a kid: Silly Putty. 

     I'm sure many of you remember Silly Putty. It's flexible, lovable, impressionable and able to wrap itself around anything. It looks like a wad of pink gum. I remember twisting and turning it, massaging it in my hands. I remember pressing it upon the newspaper and seeing the cartoons reversed and stretched on the Silly Putty. It was ruined after that but that never bothered me. It also got ruined when you lost the red egg shell container it came in. Of course, often  I would get in trouble for wrapping my silly putty around things that I shouldn't have been like pens or the table or things in the kitchen. But it was so cool and awesome and I just couldn't put it down. One time I even remember "losing" my silly putty and then my Aunt Karen giving me a new red egg with the silly putty in it. My Dad got a little upset because seemingly I had wrapped it around too many things and I didn't actually lose it. But the part I remembered the most about Silly Putty was that if you stretched it too far in two different directions it got limp in the middle or eventually snapped. Silly Putty, I realized, was the perfect metaphor for my heart. 

     First of all, my heart is definitely flexible and able to wrap around anything and anyone. It has been stretched so much in the past that I have become able to love even more greatly and love many. My heart is flexible in the sense that I can truly find a way to love anyone. When it comes to being lovable, I've been told by a few that my heart is just as lovable if not more so. I'm not quite sure what it is about my heart, but people love it. My very human heart is also very impressionable.This one comes from my High School Greek Teacher, Senor (he also teaches Spanish....). He told me that when he was a kid, Silly Putty was ruined after only one cartoon/newspaper trick. That being said, once an impression has been made on the heart, perhaps it may be ruined. For example when someone makes such a beautiful impression on you and you learn to love that person, but suddenly that person does something that hurts greatly. The impression may not have false, but the reality of recognizing that another is only being human hurts. Perhaps, the heart then is ruined? The heart can no longer trust? That's a deep concept of equating the heart to Silly Putty in that sense. Of course, we must also think of the red egg shell casing. While it is good to open up the egg shell, because how else would we get to the Silly Putty to play with it? If one loses the red container, the heart can longer be protected against all the icky gunk that might get mixed it. Definitely, the Silly Putty was ruined after that. The heart, perhaps, just as so. At this point, I was really thinking about how perfectly this metaphor was working for me. But it wasn't until I remembered the part about my Dad getting upset at my aunt for giving me new silly putty that it truly hit the spot. 

       My heart has been through the battlefield and lost it's protective container a long time ago. During Lent we pray "God give me a new heart." Did anyone ever question this? Like why on earth would we want a new heart after our old one has already been stretched, has already been hurt so anymore hurt wouldn't matter, and has already, without a doubt, been impressed upon. Doesn't it seem a little ironic? Well, we ask for new hearts for the same reason that I asked for new Silly Putty. My Silly Putty, aside from being "lost" was also ruined. I wanted a new clean slate with a new container. But just as my Dad got upset at the new Silly Putty, knowing that I would only wrap it around everything under the sun, copy newspapers and probably lose the container, I found myself upset at God for a few minutes for giving me a new heart that would only be hurt and soon ruined again. But God reminded me that He was molding my heart and He would not let it get ruined. 

       So then I asked Him why on earth, then, was He stretching me so far in two different directions? In being honest, this past week, I was feeling so stretched by two different things that I loved so much. I could feel one pulling me in one direction while another was pulling me in the opposite direction. There was no malice or even negative aspect of either sides stretching me. In fact, both are beautiful ways to celebrate my gifts and talents. But oh my goodness, was I being stretched. And so, in being honest with God, I told Him how I felt that it He stretched my heart anymore I was fearing that I was snap and my heart would break. I was already feeling like weak Silly Putty because I have been harboring a hurt inside for a while, one that I haven't spoken about or really even debriefed. I questioned God and was upset at this new heart that was still so brand new and impressionable and flexible. 

      I posted my metaphor on Facebook and within minutes many of my dear friends of God were telling me that while the heart is like Silly Putty, the heart is stronger. Some told me that yes, the heart may break, but God is the glue that puts the pieces back together. Some even said that my heart, the Silly Putty is molded by the Maker, my God and He knows what my heart is capable above. Why else would He wrap my heart around people and places that I love so tightly. I was reminded once again that stretching is a good thing and it's only because of the hurt that I have yet to deal with, that I am afraid of breaking. I was reminded that I need to be stretched in both ways equally so as to be able to love constantly and consistently both things which are stretching me. I was reminded that being stretched well help me love beyond the harbored hurt. 

     And so, I can to the conclusion that while my heart is like Silly Putty and I may fear it might snap, God won't let it snap. He is the molder and the maker of all good things, especially my heart. While I'm still at a period of hurting from stretching (you know how those days are...after working out, you're sore for a few days), I know this is for the best. 

Caroling Around the Crib

"Servants of the Lord, 

Bless the Lord."

- Daniel 3:85

      It was the night before the last day of student teaching and all throughout the Rotunda could be heard the sounds of songs from The Sound of Music. I was seated next to a beautiful woman of God awaiting the arrival of my three friends and Baby Jesus. Throughout the Rotunda came more friends chattering about in the spirit of Advent and hustling and bustling about the end (of the semester) being near. Wait. What?! Of course, one would be confused if he or she wasn't standing there at that exact moment. So let me give you the background...

      A few weeks before the end of the semester, an email went out to the Senior class asking for submissions of essays of those wishing to carry Baby Jesus on Carol Night. I remembered back to my Freshmen year, while working with Sister Cathy, going into the VP's office to get the new baby Jesus. What?! My exact reaction. I looked at the dear woman and asked how there could be a new baby Jesus and she just laughed. A few minutes later we were unwrapping the box in which was the new baby Jesus statue needed for Carol Night. Having never been to a Carol Night before, I was still confused. But, later that week I found out. I remember looking at the statue of the infant and falling in love the same way a mother first falls in love with her new child. I remember only wanting to hold that little infant statue for ever and ever. A few days later, I witnessed my first Carol Night and as I saw the Seniors carry in the baby, I knew I wanted to do that one day. So, a few weeks before the end of the semester, I handed in my essay. 

       In my essay, I spoke about Mary's yes. I spoke about the symbolism of carrying Jesus during Carol Night meant for me: embodying Mary's yes. I imagined the overwhelming feeling of love in my heart. And as God would have it, I was one of the four who carried the baby in through the rotunda. The funniest part of it was that I was, by far, the shortest carrying the baby. Hey, even the small can do their part. 

       As we were kneeling there, waiting for Steph to take the Child and put Him in the manger, I thought, how perfect. God works in funny ways, you see, because I had written my essay with the intention of desiring to put Jesus in the manger. However, God knew that I needed to CARRY the baby like Mary did. Mary didn't just simply lay the babe in the manger, but rather she carried him for nine months during her pregnancy. Then, she carried him throughout his childhood. Then, she carried him during his first miracle and all his miracles. She carried him as he walked the way to the cross. And finally, when He died she carried him off the cross and to the tomb. Suddenly, all of that hit me as I was kneeling at the foot of the manger. I had Jesus on my shoulders (with the help of three of my friends) and I was carrying him, not exactly like Mary, but in the spirit of how she carried him. 

       I reflected on that through the night. As I stood there around the Christmas tree with my fellow seniors, I thought of not only the nostalgia of this being my last Carol night as an undergraduate, but also of the encapturing beauty of Christmas. I remembered what God had always asked me to be: a servant to the Lord. That night, I realized that Mary, too, had been asked to serve God as a true servant. She carried the King...I got to carry the king. I was overwhelmed with the notion, with this beauty revelation. So often I reflect on how I serve Christ by serving others, but now I was reflecting on how I got to literally serve Him. It reminded me to continue to serve Christ through others. It reminded me that I was meant to be a servant of the Lord.

      This past weekend, I was on retreat and at the end of the retreat, we were given one of the courts of the Lord. I truly believe that God's timing is so perfect as I was given "the Crib," the place where Jesus rests. This was the second part of my Advent gift from God. First it was the realization that I am called the be servant. This weekend He showed me that I am meant to also carry Jesus forever, making the heart the crib. Of course, I believe this will continue on because we know that from the wood of the crib comes the wood of the cross. There is much joy in watching a child asleep in the crib and there is much suffering in watching a man die upon the cross. If I truly accept this call to be servant of the Lord, there will be great joy, such as the joy of Jesus resting in the crib of my heart, but there will always be suffering. I am called to be a servant of the Lord, just as Mary was. I am called to carry the Lord, serve Him and let Him reside, take rest and refuge in my heart. I must prepare my heart to be a resting place for the Lord. Jesus, I say "Yes," like Mary said, "Yes." I give myself to you, sweetheart. Please, take a rest in my heart. 

It All Comes Down to the Hart of the Matter

"I have struggled with this call to vocation all my life.

I can understand why people have doubts, because who understands God?

I don't."

- Mother Dolores Hart

    We've all seen those famous movie stars become nuns: Whoopi Goldberg as Sister Mary Clarence in Sister Act, Rosalind Russell as Mother Superior in The Trouble With Angels, Audrey Hepburn as Sister Luke in The Nun's Story and of course, my favorite, Julie Andrews as Maria in the Sound of Music. Famous women in Hollywood taking on roles of Sisters and Nuns for Hollywood purposes. While no one can really be sure why, Sisters and Nuns tend to show up in random comedy movies and documentaries. I could think of a number of reasons why Hollywood chooses to produce movies and films about Sisters and Nuns but quite honestly I think the real reason is this: Unless you are a Sister, the movie viewer, no matter how Catholic he or she is, has no idea what being a religious really is like. I can admit myself, that as much as I know about the Sisters and their lifestyle, there is no knowing for sure what the religious life is all about until one finally joins a community. And so, because we as lay people have no idea, we try to portray what we think or how we assume convent or monastery life is lived. Sometimes it is a close depiction, other times it's pretty far off. Regardless, perhaps writing screenplays about Sisters and Nuns and other religious is Hollywood's attempt to give knowledge of the unknown. Last night, I had the most awesome opportunity to listen to and meet Mother Dolores Hart. Unlike Whoopie, Rosalind, Audrey and Julie, Mother Dolores, after acting as St. Clare (a religious nun) in a film, actually took a further step and entered a community of Benedictines in Connecticut. She took her role as a nun to a whole new level.

    We were supposed to meet at Our Mother of Consolation Parish in Chestnut Hill. I had no idea where that was or how I was going to get there. I didn't know the area well, and was surprised when my GPS told me to take the turnpike instead of 95. Although, after traveling back and forth to Philly every day this week on 95, I was grateful for the change in commute. My GPS sweetly mentioned : destination on right. I was having trouble believe it, but lo and behold, as I turned the corner, there in the distance was a group of lovely ladies dressed in blue. I laughed to myself: I know I'm in the right place when I see the nuns. I parked my car, met Sister Kim in the parking lot and then walked in. All hopes of remaining unnoticed were shattered when immediately we were greeted with "Sister, your Sisters are up front." That was no understatement...there they were in the front rows. 

     The next few moments were spent catching up with each other as it had been such a long time since I had seen the Motherhouse Sisters. We laughed and shared stories, until someone mentioned that Mother Dolores was not on IHM time. What exactly is IHM time, because as far as I knew, according to my internal IHM clock, Mother Dolores was right on time. Before I could comprehend what was happening before me, this little, tiny, maybe five foot tall nun dressed in a black and white habit made her way across the altar. How precious! was all I could say. She looked straight out of a fairy tale!

     The first thing she mentioned was that she had been wondering what to actually speak about that night. How she started telling us though really spoke to my heart, especially with what happened right after. She said, "Most of you are probably wondering why. Why did I, a famous Hollywood actress, decide to give up everything for the cloister life? Why would I become a nun?" She left a few moments for the audience to think, to wonder, to imagine. For the most part, it was quiet. However, as I was sitting with a fairly large group of lovely IHM ladies in blue, I heard a mumble amongst them that said, Oh I know why. It's the same reason for all of us. I'm not quite sure who said it, but I had to laugh. Suddenly I realized, I knew, too. No, none of us sitting there were once famous, we didn't have Hollywood at our every beck and call, but the Sisters among us gave up so much for this life and I am finding myself doing the same as I prepare for the big step that will happen sooner or later. While we might not have the same exact story as Mother Dolores, we all knew why she was sitting there before us, not as a movie star, but as a religious nun. The rest of the audience might not have known, but we, we knew. 

      As I was sitting there, listening to Mother Dolores speak, I couldn't help but wish my friends were there with me. I had invited them but it was too late notice for them. I was bummed because I knew they would love her story as much as I did. I texted them when I got home telling them how much I had wished they had been there and in googling some more of Mother's story, I found out she was speaking at another close-by Parish. So, I called the girlies up and the next night I found myself and three of my good friends sitting in a pew listening to Mother Dolores, me for the second time and them for the first.

     She didn't start her talk out the same way, but she did reiterate what she had began to say the night before. This time, instead of stating that most people wonder why on earth she would do such a thing, she asked if everyone knew what it felt like to be in love. We were surrounded by married couples and religious sisters and priests and some young people, too. More or less, except for those youngins, nodded, spoke amongst themselves and agreed with Mother. She then said that for her, when she went to Regina Laudis Monastery, she felt the same fire of love for this lifestyle just as she would if she had fallen in love with a man. Many people were in awe but just as the night before, the sisters were all shaking their heads, nodding in agreement; they knew, they knew exactly the fire she was speaking about. 

     I smiled as my friends engulfed this notion. For me, ever since I really started openly discerning, I have tried subtly to show people how awesome and normal sisters are compared to regular everyday people. Whether I had invited them to a pick-up softball game, to the movies, or just to dinner, my friends slowly got to understand that these sisters I was so fascinated with were just regular people with an extraordinary calling. I had invited my friends last night to see Mother Dolores not only because I knew they would enjoy the spirituality aspect, but also because I wanted them to hear and understand another Sister's story. I believe that our stories are so important, and even Mother Dolores spoke about that. She said that our roots define us, that we should be proud of where we come from, because it is that that God starts planting the seeds for our future. I had invited my friends so that they, too, could understand what it was about this fire that ignites the soul and invites it to live for Jesus and only for Him. 

    As her talk went on, I found myself reflecting on my own firey soul. This week I have been blessed to teach pre-8th graders with some of my IHM Sisters down at St. Joe's Prep. One of the things we really focused on in all our classes was the importance of St. Ignatius' words "Go forth and set the world on fire." How awesome that Mother spoke about the fire. We cannot set the world on fire, if we ourselves are not on fire with the love of God. So often, that's how I feel I truly live out my vocation, that is, my mission in life to love. I see myself as a literal fire. At some moments in my life, I am simply a small fire, setting aflame the kindling in the fire pit. But at other times, I am a loud, roaring fire setting aflame logs and many other things. I recalled the first time I started recognizing the fire in my soul, the fire that whispered with ever crackle, "love Me, devote your life to Me, give Me your life." I found myself knowing exactly what Mother was speaking about. I knew why she had entered the religious life, because I, too, am doing the same for the same reason: we had each fallen in love with something so different, so out of this world, that there is nothing else we can do except accept His proposal.

     After the talk, I introduced myself to some IHM Sisters that were casually idling by Mother Dolores. I told them that I attend their University and felt that I should say hello, introduce myself, get know where they were from and who they were. While this conversation was taking place, some of my Nazareth Sisters came behind me to give me kisses on the cheek before they headed out the door. Quickly I introduced the Sisters to each other explaining how I seemingly know all the nuns everywhere. We all laughed and then quickly got on our ways. 

     As I drove home, my three good friends in tow, we chatted about Mother and all she had to say. We were stopped at one of the many, many, many street lights on Street Road, when Sara who was riding shotgun happened to notice nuns in the car next to us. She screamed, "NUNS! Our NUNS!" Frantically, the girls all started waving and shouting but the Sisters, all four of them, kept their eyes ahead. I explained the whole custody of the eyes ordeal to the girlies and we had a good laugh. I knew, however, we were headed in the same direction and would probably be trailing each other all the way up the street. So, the girlies kept up their devotion to getting the sisters' attention. Finally, they did. Of course, I said to them after the fact that we were noticed, "Oh great, now they will totally be judging my driving." I was right, the sisters had followed us all the way home. At one point, Sister who was driving the car, pulled into the lane next to me. All of the sisters now were so excited to see us and were waving just as frantically as we were. Suddenly, Sister started inching forward. Sara then jokingly said, "I think she just challenged you to a drag race." We laughed, of course, because our drag race consisted of us doing 35 mph down the side streets of Philadelphia, trying NOT to get in an accident.

     And so, our nights listening to and meeting Mother Dolores Hart were eventful (as anything is in my life) and truly, she brought me back into my own reflective spirit. What I said in the beginning, is true. Mother Dolores spoke at length about the mystery of falling in love with Jesus and the religious life. While many of the lay people in the audiences merely shook their heads respectively, the sisters in the audiences knew exactly what she was talking about. Today, we find so often we try and try and try to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes men and women enter this religious life, but unless one has truly experienced it him or herself, you don't know, you simply can't. But Mother put it so kindly, just as how many of us wonder how on earth you fell in love with your husband or wife, many question the religious. But just as you did marry that questionable husband or wife, we entered religious life. There is just something about it that captures our souls forever and we fall in love. And so, truly what Mother taught us all or reiterated in us, is that finding your vocation, finding out your true calling, all comes down to the Hart of the matter. 

The Desire of Nothingness - A Reflection on Deserts and Barranca

"The closer one becomes to approaching God, 

the simpler she becomes."

- St. Teresa of Avila

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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