Delicate Beauty

"There is nothing more beautiful

than a person who goes out of her way

to make another life beautiful."

- Mandy Hale

    

      Look at this woman. She is beautiful. She has salt and pepper hair, a bright smile, and warm arms to hug you. She has laughter lines galore. But best of all, she has gentle eyes. Her gentle eyes look right into your soul and know, instantly, that which you are thinking. Her hands are soft and always willing to hold mine. Her arm is always ready to be linked with mine. Her soul is innocent and shines bright through her. She speaks only kind words. And she loves without judgement. Look at this woman. She is beautiful.

      I was blessed beyond compare to visit with my dear sister the other night. I hadn't seen her in a year, although it feels like it wasn't too long ago. She texts, calls and writes often making sure that I always know she is thinking of me. And as often as possible, I do the same. She had been visiting with her family but made sure to free a few hours for me, too. I picked her up, we stopped for some ice cream, sat for a while and then went for a walk in one of the places we used to frequent often when I was in high school. It was great simply being in her presence spending one on one time with her.
      When it was time to leave, she made sure to take my picture while I was sitting on the couch in the parlor of the convent. And after she took my picture, I took a selfie with her. She made me promise to send her a copy and soon it will be on its way in the mail. I couldn't help but pray, dear God, let this not be the last time I see her. I always pray that now. With so many people I love. I've learned to take each moment as if it might be the last. She hugged me tightly at the door, apologizing for forgetting her key which didn't allow her to walk me to the car. I told her to be safe on her flight home the next day, squeezed her tight and told her I loved her. She let go a bit of our embrace, looked me in the eye with her gentle ones, and said, "I love you very very much, you know that." Before I could cry, I turned for the door, got in my car and checked the rear-view mirror to see her waiting for me to drive away. I smiled. She was always watching out for me.
     When I got home, I wanted to find the right words to post with our picture. It really was a great picture - one I will cherish forever. I found the above quotation and thought that nothing described her more perfectly. I've always thought that she was one of the most beautiful people I know. I remember being in high school, accidentally finding her senior picture in the yearbook, giggling a little because I now was privy to her baptismal name, and realizing that she was one of the most beautiful girls in her class. I told her that a day or two after I found her picture and she just smiled.
     In high school, she was a mystery to me. I had known religious sisters before, but she was different. Maybe it was the fact that she was the first sister I had as a teacher. Maybe it was her gentleness. Maybe it was the fact that she sang to us in class all the time (Lord, you are more precious than silver, more precious than gold). Or maybe it was because she opened my heart and soul to a whole new religious community. Whatever it was, she was a mystery to me.
      She was the first sister I ever told about thinking about religious life. I told her in a letter and that has become something near and dear to us - letter writing. From then on, she took me under her wing. Sometimes, quite literally. I'm sure in the ten years that I have known her, things about me have changed. But she always tells me I've always been special to her. I'm glad that hasn't changed.
      I remember visiting Chapel after school as often as I could. Back when I went to Naz, the sisters still lived in the convent so they used the big Chapel for their own prayer. I had this thing where I would take my shoes off at the doors of chapel and walk in my socks to my pew. She knew where I kept my shoes and would always know if I was in Chapel simply by checking for my shoes. On Fridays, sometimes we cleaned Chapel together or watered the plants or prayed together. We would sometimes go for walks around the high school campus to pray the Rosary or faith share. In my high school eyes, she was amazing.
       Now, six years after I had graduated high school, I was looking at this picture of us, wondering want to say. In my young adult eyes, she is still amazing. But it's an amazingness that I can't quite define. All I know is that while she may be physically beautiful, she is even more beautiful in heart and soul. She makes my life beautiful by her presence. She makes my life beautiful by her ability to make me feel like the only person in the world that matters when we're sharing stories together. She makes my life beautiful when she holds my hand or wraps her arm around me in Chapel and we pray together. She makes my life beautiful with every card, note or text. And the best part is that she does it for so many people, not just me. I hope that I can make at least one person feel as special as she makes me feel.

      Look at this woman. She is beautiful. She lights up the room with her gentle compassion. She speaks only kind words of others. She loves with judgement. She holds so many dear to her heart. She prays so deeply and fervently. She believes the best in others. She makes each person she's with feel like the moon and all the stars. She holds on tightly when you hug her. She carries you in prayer. She listens to your heart. She wipes away your tears. She holds your heart in her gentle hands and protects it with all she can. Look at this woman. She is beautiful and I just want her to know that I think so. And I am so blessed to know her. Thank you, God.

Sunflowers and Sisters

"Never say goodbye because
saying goodbye means going away
and going away means forgetting."
- J.M. Barrie

One of my favorite pictures with this lovely lady.
Circa. Summer 2011

      I was mid-conversation with a friend when the phone started beeping telling me there was another call waiting for me to answer. When I saw the name, I immediately cut my friend off and said, "I'll call you back. This is important." I could barely contain my excitement when I heard her voice on the other end. "Hi Sister..." Before I knew it, I was jumping in the car and racing to see her at the Mount. 

     It had been months since I'd seen her last. In fact, as part of our hellos, we were trying to figure out how long. "Well, you were in Chicago for vows," she said. But then I responded, "But I saw you for a few minutes when I stopped over in Chicago before going to Minnesota." We laughed and agreed. Yes, the last time we had seen each other was in passing for only a few minutes. It was enough for a hug before I was off and running to the next state. Yes, it had been months, yet, it seemed as if it was only yesterday we had had our last conversation. It was so easy to pick right back up where we left off the months before. 

     Usually, I write an exact recent moment in my life but today, I'm going to write a piece of my past and a piece of my discernment story. After our brief hour together yesterday, I decided that I would (sleep in and) join Sister for Mass before she headed back "home." She mentioned that she would be leaving right after Mass and I told her that spending time with her in Mass was just as good if not better than talking for an hour. She agreed and so, this morning, I found myself in an all too familiar setting. Together we prayed and celebrated Mass; it was beautiful. As I was leaving, she mentioned that we've been close for a very long time. That's when I said, "This September, it will be eight years since we met." Both of us let that sink in for a few seconds and I hugged her again. Even though I know I'll see her again soon enough (perhaps in a few months), it's always hard to say goodbye to the woman that has been one of the most influential people in my life. 

     Sister David was the first Sister I ever had as a teacher. I grew up with the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, so I knew nuns, but I never had one as a teacher. We took semesterly Theology classes so I didn't have Sister David until January but I knew who she was and was secretly in awe of her. I couldn't wait to have her in class. When I finally did get to have her in class, I noticed her all around joy. She was always happy, go-lucky, it seemed and there was something about her that I just wanted to share. I remember studying Old Testament Theology with her, I remember her singing with us, I remember her bouncing around the classroom, super excited for the day. I had her 8th period and I remember trying to think of questions to ask her after class just so I could talk with her (I'm such a nerd, still...) One question I asked her in particular was about what I was doing for Lent. I asked her, "Sister, my boyfriend and I are going to be reading the Bible for Lent. Is there any place we should start?" I think part of her was a bit crushed that I had a boyfriend, but she was happy that we would be reading the Bible. To be honest, I don't remember what she answered. At the end of the year, I hung back after class and asked her to sign my yearbook. I hugged her good-bye for the Summer and left the classroom thinking, next year I must get to know her better. 

      Over the summer between Freshmen and Sophomore years, I broke up with my boyfriend and thought it was really time to focus on what God might be calling me to do with my life. (Long story short, I had been talking with my boyfriend about the possibility of being a sister....yeah....he didn't like that very much). Fast forward to maybe early October of my Sophomore year. I spent the night writing and re-writing a letter to Sister David before I finally conjured up the right words. I begged my best friend the next morning to go with me to her office (she was the disciplinarian, you see) so that I could drop the letter off. Lucky for me, she wasn't in her office. So, I dropped it on her desk and BOLTED out of there. I was praying and hoping that she would read it and NEVER SAY ANYTHING TO ME ABOUT IT EVER. But alas, as I was headed into my French class, there she was, waiting for me. "How about you stop by my office tomorrow after school?" Oh no. She read my letter. NOW she wanted to talk about it? I hesitated but something deep down inside forced me to say okay. Yes, little sophomoric me agreed to chat with Sister about my letter. 

       The next day, I found myself down in her office. It was a Wednesday (because that's the day she did detentions) and a dress-down day. We sat in her office for at least an hour and a half as she addressed every single thing I wrote in my letter. You see, my letter was all about how I felt that I was being called to religious life. I told her that I was scared and nervous about saying anything. I didn't know what it meant, I had not a clue what to do about it. She sat next to me and assured me that it was totally okay to be feeling called to religious life. She told me that Sisters are just as human as every other human being. But the most important thing that she told me was that she would be right next to me the entire journey. She would be praying for and with me. I didn't know how true her words were then. But almost eight years later, she's still journeying with me. 

     The rest of my high school career, Sister David became a mentor. She mentored me in everything from my discernment to making college decisions to even research topics for Senior Research Paper. So many of the Sisters at Nazareth influenced me greatly in my four years there but she was the one who listened to my every nun-related fear. I knew come graduation, it was going to be difficult to say good-bye to her. God, however, had different plans. Because today, years after my graduation, I got to laugh with her as if she was my long lost best friend. 

     Sister David never once ceased writing to me when I was at college. Every so often, I would get a letter in the mailbox from her. She loved to write little cards with little messages to people (I even got one this morning). And I, of course, always loved to receive them. When I was home for break, we somehow always managed to meet up. Often, we would go for a walk around school or even her humble abode, just to catch up with one another. She has a memory like an elephant, by the way; she remembered almost everything I ever wrote to her about when I was at college. Of course, last summer she got transferred...not just to a different convent, or to a different state BUT TO A WHOLE OTHER PART OF THE COUNTRY. Needless to say, I thought the world was ending. How was I going to live without my best friend? 

     But here we are a year later, and I've seen her quite a bit. Every so often, we call on the phone and it's like there hasn't been a month's lapse of time between the last time we spoke and that moment. She still writes to me often...in fact, more often than ever before. I'm always getting cards in the mail from her and I'm always sending something in response. She'll be getting one soon enough from me. Seeing her these past two days, even if it only was for a little bit, was a God moment for me. She has taught me so much in her witness of religious life. She has shown me gentleness and kindness. She has shown me tears and faith and love, incredible love for every person she has ever met. But probably the most important thing she ever taught me from day was is that if I wholly and totally depend on God, He will always take care of me.

      As we were saying good-bye today, I tried to hold back tears. Yeah, I know, I'm a big baby, but she's been journeying with me for the past eight years and it's been a very crazy journey. She's listened to my pains, my fears, my hesitations. She's wiped away countless tears (she always has a tissue in her pocket, just in case) and has been a caring shoulder to cry on. Of course, she's also shared many laughs, smiles and good times with me. I laugh so much with her; she is joy. We laughed as we hugged goodbye one more time. I didn't want her to go, but another thing she has taught me is that one must make their home wherever God sends her. Go with God and nothing will go wrong. She told me to listen to my heart. I called her Grandmother Willow. 

     Sister David, a constant companion, mentor and friend, has stood by me on my crazy journey. We shared so much in the little hour that we had together yesterday, just as if it hadn't been months since our last visit together. She's amazing. I secretly think she might be an angel. And she has been such a key player in my discernment story. One of the last things she said this morning was that no matter where I go, it's between me and God and I can't let anyone else influence that decision. No matter where I go, she will always continue journeying with me as my Sister in prayer. I smiled as I walked away and said, "Self. Do not cry. Your mascara will run and you'll look like a fool." So instead, I smiled and already started looking forward to the next time I'll see this beautiful woman of God. Maybe I'll take a road trip soon. As I thought of all my blessings in simply seeing her and praying with her, I couldn't help but remember that in the Chapel, there right in front of the altar, were sunflowers. 

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...Home

     As my days at home usually are, this was another busy, busy day of running here, there and everywhere. First, of course, was Mass at my Parish! It was a long day ahead of me after that with a visit to my high school with so many of the baked goods my sister and I made all weekend and then a visit to my older and sick sisters and THEN a doctor's appointment and THEN the concert! Visiting my high school was perfect; always a welcome home into loving arms. With every new person I saw in the hallway, I was greeted with an outburst of happiness and a hug! While many still say it's as if I've never left, and it's true, there was a part of me that felt like it's been entirely too long. However, there is a personal philosophy of mine that whenever I come home, I visit all my homes: my high school and all the convents! It is such an amazing feeling to be welcomed into loving arms. It's a scary thought that the teachers still talk about me to their students and yet, it helps me realize that I've left a legacy. 

      Visiting the sick and older sisters always brings a light of warmth to my heart. Especially when I walk in, and once again am greeted with hugs and love from all of them. First, that alone is a miracle. The second is that they remember my face and name. And then, that they know exactly why I need prayers; my vocation, of course! They are always willing to take my hand, sit, chat and tell me so many stories. No matter how they are feeling, they have time for me! AND they are always praying for me! As I was leaving, after sharing many beautiful moments with the sisters there, I decided that every time I come home, I have to visit there, as well, since I visit all the other convents in the area :)

      As for the doctor's appointment, pray for me. I have an MRI on Thursday which will tell me whether or not I tore something in my knee. COOL! NOT!

      Now finally, the concert at my high school. Let's talk about perfection! I snuck up to the choir loft with a few of the sisters...not that they cared. I was so privileged to sit next to the first sister I ever told about thinking about the convent. The best part was that a few years ago we had gone to a neighboring parish to see Tajci and now there we were again, listening to her beautiful voice! I would love to do what Tajci does: change hearts, one song at a time. I was so excited to listen to all of her Lenten music, all of which I could have easily sung along with. I couldn't help though, but sit back, close my eyes, open my hands and pray with her words of song. They were simply so beautiful! And just like how I never want to stop singing when I'm praising the Lord, she didn't either. When she started to sing "Awesome God" the sisters and I started dancing in the Choir Loft. Tajci asked someone to sing with her and one of my wonderful little sisters did. I was so proud, I started crying. And then again when all my little chorale sisters sang "River in Judea" (our classic) with Tajci. It was just so beautiful. 

     Toward the end of the concert, Sister turned to me, gave me a big hug and said that she was so glad I was there. But it wasn't there, as in the building, but rather in her life. In response, I told her that I am more than blessed to have her. I couldn't help but take her hand and squeeze it. She is such a beautiful, simple and humble woman who I constantly attempt to model my life after. I have no idea where I would be without her, simply because she was the first person I ever told about my vocation. She led me to all the right people, those who love me so dearly, and also without whom I would be so lost. Sharing that night with my sister, my dear, dear sister, was a night I needed. We were connected in prayer and in music. 

     And even though we are far apart most times, I must always remind myself that, "The closest we will ever be is inside each other's hearts." 

Sisterly Sacrifice...Nun-Tastic Day 2

     When you ask certain people what their meaning of sacrifice is, you will most likely get mixed answers. For some, sacrifice is merely giving up mustard on their sandwich so that someone else can have the last squeeze, but for others it's giving up half a sandwich for the other homeless guy sitting next to him. The same goes for when you pose a certain question to people asking them if it's a sacrifice. Like if you ask a normal college student who is on Christmas break if getting up at 6 am is a sacrifice, they will most likely say YES and don't do wake me up til after 12. But for me, I really don't think twice about it. Now see, right now, most of you reading are thinking I'm talking about getting up early for Mass. Well, wrong. Usually, at home, going to daily Mass means sleeping in til 8:45. So WHY was I up at 6 am? To begin the saga of the missing school shoe. That's right, I was looking for my little sister's school shoe. LOOOOOOOOOONG story short: on her last day of school before break, she got changed in the car and left her shoes there. They didn't leave the car until I decided to clean it out. However, in cleaning the car out only one shoe made it in the house. And so, this morning, at the crack of dawn (literally), I was on my hands and knees, scouring the car for the lost shoe. And when I finally found it, I placed it with my sister's uniform and said nothing about it. My sister said nothing about it, either. And yet, while some might get really upset at the fact that their sister even woke them up, much less have to LOOK for the shoe and THEN, to get no thanks in return? Psh, the nerve. But really, that whole fiasco was something that, as the oldest, I was supposed to do. And in my family, especially, many might call the numerous things I do, sacrifices. But for me, that's daily life. And it's not a sacrifice at all. So, after the saga took place, I got to thinking (in the hour that I still had before actually having to do anything), what do I consider sacrifices? And today's nun-tastic adventure has plenty of examples.
     First things first. After Mass, I headed straight to a volunteer job I randomly picked up at the request of a friend. The volunteer job seemed easy enough; taking inventory in the book store. It seemed that way until I got there. First, it didn't look like a convent at all. Then I came to learn that the book store got sold because the community couldn't afford it anymore so it was now in their garage. THEN, I came to learn that their little tiny teeny chapel is in their basement. As I learned, I took it all in and thought about the sacrifices these sisters made. Finally, we headed to take inventory...in the garage. I might add that today was the coldest day this winter so far and the garage is outside. Luckily, the sisters have been blessed with semi warm winter weather (alliteration!!) but today and tomorrow, when the one able-bodied sister solely will be working on the inventory are the coldest. NOW THAT, my dear, is sacrifice. Braving the frigid, winter, air just to count so that the community can have an income. Sacrifice.
    Secondly, I headed to one of my favorite shrines inbetween nun hopping today: Katharine Drexel. She was my first saint influence and visiting her shrine always, always makes me feel secure in my vocation. I love to look into the display case of her habit, the real one she wore, and find myself in it. We were the same five foot, you know. I look at her shoes and see my feet in them and then I see her ring, the same size as my finger. So many imagine her as tall and strong and mighty, but I know, she was petite, and humble, and gentle. She made so many sacrifices for her sisters, especially for her own personal self. The shoes she wore, she hand sewed every time the leather teared. They were her only pair of shoes her whole convent life. And her pencils; used to the very stub. She is my perfect sacrificing model.
     Thirdly, I went back to visit my High School nuns who just continually sacrifice their time for me. I'm telling you that those sisters are the busiest people I've met and yet, they barely stress out and always give me the time of day. Tonight was yet another saga of finding my nun in the school, actually my nun to sit down, planning a trip to the pet store, actually finding the pet store, buying a fish tank heater, installing said fish tank heater, learning how to hang bird feeders in trees from windows with a stick (oi), planning crayon melting art days with my AE, dropping office book insides all over Chapel, eating supper, watching the news, reading People magazine, complaining about school AND finally walking to the car in the FRIGID AIR. Yep, this woman made an awful amount of sacrifices for me today. And that's how I know I'm family. By sacrifice.
     I mean, I "sacrifice" for my sister at 6 am, the sister from the book store sacrificed for her sisters, Katharine Drexel sacrificed for her sisters, and my nun, sacrificed for me, her sister. I guess that's the common theme of the day: Sisterly Sacrifice.

A Glimpse Into The Future

    Hanging out with your high school principal while you're a student is weird. Hanging out with her after you've graduated; even weirder. Except for me. Over the summer, during some renovations of my high school, all the sisters moved out and into various different convents in the area. My high school principal just happened to move into my favorite convent and the one I happen to be the most comfortable in. It's the house where I truly feel like family, in a real home. And when she moved in, even though I had already graduated a year, I wasn't sure how we were both going to adjust.
    The thing is, Sister and I were close. She always called me, "Becca, my love," and had no problem giving me random responsibilities around the school. She was even on my Kairos. We were close, but never in the sense that she knew about my vocation. I mean, she knew, but we NEVER talked about it. I had her read my college essay that was all about my vocation, but nothing else was ever mentioned about it. But at the house she lives in now, the sisters are ALWAYS talking about how they can't wait til I live with them for real, or am their sister, fo sho. And so, I wondered and wondered how it would be.
    Even though I had visited so many times since she moved in, we never all really hung out. Most of the time, I would be over for dinner and she wasn't home yet from school, or we would be watching a movie and we'd all pass out on the chairs that just suck you in. Tonight, however, we hung out and it was a glimpse of my future for show.
    The sisters always joke that my family is so used to visiting the convent with me that it will be no transition when I actually join. Tonight, we called up the sisters to see who wanted to go Christmas light looking. One of the sisters automatically said YES! And so we went, picked her up and went on our way. When we got back to the convent, of course, we were invited in for hot cocoa and that's when the party started. My family is so comfortable with the sisters that it's scary sometimes. But my dad right away starts conversation with the sister closest to him, my littlest sister is running around playing tag or hide and seek and me? Well, I'm there in the kitchen pulling out all the ingredients for hot chocolate since I know that kitchen better than the sisters themselves. Finally, we were all seated around the kitchen table, the sisters, my dad, my little sister and me, drinking hot chocolate. We were laughing, sharing stories, singing, tossing napkins and marshmallows and so much more. I sat there, watching the moment before me thinking, that truly that's how I imagine my future except with one difference: I'll be in a habit, too. I imagined my family visiting with the sisters and all of us, just sitting around the table, like one big family. It felt like perfection.
    At the end of the night, I hugged all the sisters good-bye, saving my principal for last. She gave me the best hug you could ever imagine, saying, "Good-night, Becca, my love. I love you, my sister." Yeah, now I know I'm part of the family.