The Long Awaited God Wink

"Everyday we find something new,

well this day I found you. 

I found love and joy all in one. 

You sent me back to where I once was.

There just ain't nothing else that compares."

- Trevor Hall, "You Find Me."

It has been over a month since I've written, and while some bloggers might apologize to their followers, I have to apologize to myself. Writing is often a form of prayer, a form of thanksgiving for blessings received, and I haven't stopped for a month to write. Of course, I know how long it's been since I've written because technology tells me. But what technology can't tell me is how long it's been since I've gone to daily Mass with the Sisters or how long it's been since I've prayed Morning Prayer with them. All I know is that my heart says it's been too long. 

    I told my students the Friday before I left that I had been waiting months to leave for Peru. In fact, my count down app told me that it was 74 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes the day I bought my ticket. It was so close but it wasn't close enough. However, to be completely honest, my job had me so busy that I really didn't have time to count down day by day. Occasionally, I would check the app and get giddy at the shortened length of time I had to wait. I got more and more excited as the days passed. Suddenly, it was the last day I needed to wait. I found myself telling story after story to my students. I found myself counting down the hours before I could leave the parking lot. I finished packing when I got home and started my adventure by going to the Mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe in Spanish. There was no better way to begin. 

    As I walked through the security at the airport after having checked my bags, reality began to hit me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane destined for my favorite country in the world in which lived a plethora of my favorite people. I sat in the airport waiting and waiting. I was surrounded by people who were waiting. All of us were waiting for something: to go home, to see loved ones, for a plane to arrive, for lunch to be served, for a business deal to be made, for a phone call, for a birthday wish. Waiting is always something that permeates airports and it was definitely permeating my heart. However, while I thought I was waiting for the plane to arrive to take me to Peru, there was a different waiting hiding in the deep crevices of my heart. 

      There is so much that happened on my adventure to Peru. I offered so many hours of service to various schools, I spent time with my dear Sisters, I met the families of some of the Sisters at the Christmas Gathering, I went shopping with a new friend, I attended the graduation of my CSA Students, I took a bus and got a little lost in a city I have loved for so long, I convent-hopped like a champ, I did so much more. But I also had many conversations with my Sisters, I joined them for daily Mass, I joined them for prayers, I walked arm in arm with them, I walked hand in hand with them, I held their hands during the Padre Nuestra, I celebrated life with them and I discerned with them. I served right next to them. I was a part of their love, their service, their lives. I was home. 

     Life has taken a road of different scenery in these past months. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful scenery, something familiar, yet untouched for so many years. Yes, I've ventured out and experienced a lot of things different than what I have been used to. Yes, it's been worth the journey. But there always has seemed like there was something missing. The literal scenery changed when I got to Peru, but suddenly, I was back with my Sisters. I had been away from them for so long and finally, I was back, I was home. There was nothing more than that that I needed. Even if days were short and I did nothing more than go to Mass, pray, eat lunch with them, that was all I needed. My heart had been waiting the simplicity of their lives. 

     While so much had happened on my trip, there are two experiences that will always remain with me. Number one: my Montenegro adventure. There really are not enough words to describe the love that permeates the streets there. I got on an unfamiliar bus, rode to a place I had only visited twice, and walked the streets as if I had lived there for years. When my feet hit the dirt roads, there was something so overtly wonderful about the place. I looked to the hills and felt love. Sister George told me to go find my heart, the heart which I had left in Peru. I find it, Sister. I found it once again. But unfortunately, I left it there again. Between the bilingual conversations, my appreciation for the silence in my heart, and seeing the beautiful children at the posada, I couldn't have been happier. But I think the happiness was also present in the small convent community room while enjoying popcorn and homemade hot chocolate while watching CNN with the Sisters. It was present in the extra blanket left on my bed because it got chilly. It was present in the little chapel on the second floor with a beautiful view of a lit village on the hill. It was present in the front rose garden with it's freshly cut grass. It was present in the causa for lunch. I was happy there. My heart was so happy. 

      When I left Montenegro, there was a sadness in my heart. I was very quiet on the way back to Miraflores (and no, not just because Spanish was the main language in the care that day). I watched the hills fade behind me. I was still so filled with happiness, not just from my visit there, but from my time spent in all of Peru with so many of my Sisters. Before I knew it, I found myself in a little chapel I had never visited before - the one at Villa Maria, Miraflores. Sister Liz, my dear friend, ushered me to the chapel, just as she had many times before. I sat in the Chapel and within seconds, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. All my fears, my happiness, my doubts, my worries, my signs and confirmations came swelling out of my heart at once. I spoke right to Jesus...and even though it's been a while, He still listened. Suddenly, Sister Liz was back and with a gentle arm around my shoulders, she held me close like the big sister she is. She took me to the tabernacle, but my hands on the door, put hers on top of mine and prayed as so many of the others had - for my discernment. Of course, I didn't stop crying. 

       We went from there to Mass in the church down the street. I was sandwiched between two of my Sisters who graciously held my hands during the Padre Nuestra. I was exactly where I was meant to be because it was there that I had realized what I had been waiting for: God's confirmation. I hadn't prayed with my Sisters in such a long time...I was back where I was meant to be. It was the most perfect place to be. I had felt a change in heart, a change in scenery, back to the familiar and the amazing.

      I still had two nights in Peru at that point and those next two nights were the perfect nights. They involved pj parties with the nuns over two great movies, more prayer, more discernment in the day to day life. It was a busy time for me to visit because it was Christmas and the closing of the school year. At the airport before I left, one of the Sisters said she was sorry she couldn't have spent more time with me because it was such a busy time. I had no idea what she was talking about. I came not asking to be entertained, but to serve where God needed me to serve and to share the life of my Sisters for the week. What I needed was a week of prayer with my Sisters. What my heart had been waiting for was those simple moments of small conversations, daily hugs and kisses, the knowledge of permeating love. There was nothing more that I could have asked for. Those small moments with each of my Sisters were what my heart needed - a reminder of what I have been called to do. 

    I didn't cry when I said my good-byes, I cried when I woke up and saw the most beautiful sunrise from the window seat 25F. I cried then because I realized how much love I had just left behind. I had left my heart in Peru again. In fact, I think it has a permanent spot there with my Sisters. I cried because of how much God had spoke to my little heart in such little time. It was simply amazing how wonderfully blessed I felt. The reverse culture shock, that is, the shock of not having five beautiful women of God right next door or down the hallway, was the hardest adjustment. Even now, I am suffering from the reality that they are not with me. Yet, I know they are always in my heart. I love them each so much, more than can ever imagine, and I am grateful for the prayerful week they gave me. 

      In all my waiting, I felt a small solidarity with Mary and Joseph who had awaited the birth of their Son for so long. However, the difference was that they were blessed with the birth of a baby. Me on the other hand, experienced a re-birth of God in my soul, happiness in my heart and knowledge of the future. I could not thank my Sisters enough for being the pathway through which God reach me. It was a long awaited God wink and it only took me 9 days in a country, almost 4000 miles away, for me to realize that not only had God always been there, but that I needed a re-birth. And now, to live for Jesus with this renewed spirit of mine. 

     To all of my Sisters in Peru, thank you for the gift of your hugs, kisses, time and words. I could not possibly thank you enough for all the love you showed me this past week. It was a perfect discernment week in a perfect place with some perfect people. I love you each so much, and yes, I already miss you. Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano Nuevo. 

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. 

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."

This Ain't Prom; It's Home

"Home is where someone notices when you are not there."

- The Lazarus Project, Aleksandar Hemon

     "I think I'll visit the Mount, tomorrow," I said to Sister David. "Oh wonderful, they miss you there, you know." Woah...where did that just come from? I thought seconds later. I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever (ever....) visited the Mount without first announcing my coming to at least one person in the house and there I was, saying I was just going to "pop over" for a visit. Little did I know, it was going to be the best thing I have done in a long time. But let's back the story up a bit....let's go to why I was visiting Sister David.

       Sister David, I think I have mentioned numerous times, is the sister. She was not only the first Sister I ever had in the classroom, but she was the first sister I had ever told I was thinking about discerning. Imagine me, a terrified (literally shaking in my school boots) 15 year old girl. I had thought the stigmatism of maybe wanting to be a sister was going to be so negative. I thought I was going to be mocked and made fun of. It was a secret I needed to spill, but was afraid to because "no one becomes a nun anymore." So, I wrote her a letter, and she responded by telling me I should stay after school the next day. OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS APPLESAUCE...was I in trouble? She was the disciplinarian at the time, you know. But no, I wasn't. The next day we had the best chat in the world. It was out of the box...I slowly became that girl who wanted to be a nun. And yet, NO ONE EVER MENTIONED A WORD ABOUT IT. My friends, my teachers, my family, my parish...they just started asking me about it. And because of Sister David, I could confidently say yes. And get this: I was NEVER met with a negative response. 

       And so, Sister David has literally stood by my side through every single up and down. She has been there for all my "big events," she has prayed me through so much, but most importantly she has been my confidante and mentor through and through. Which is why, every time I am home, I try to make a visit but most times we just can't do it. Yesterday was different. I sent her an email that morning (somewhere around 1 or 2 am) and asked her for her free periods. Of course, when I got a response, it was almost 6th period, her last free period of the day. So, I quick got in the car and drove to see her. We had a beautiful 45 minute chat about life, we caught up, she once again spread her wisdom and she reminded me that even though I have been graduated for three years now, I am remembered every single day at Nazareth. I didn't believe her at first so she told me to look in the prayer intentions book before I left. So after I helped her fix some margins for her test (good luck, girls), I went to the office to check it out. Lo and behold, there was my name scribbled on a line in the center of the page every single day. Tears filled my eyes. When I told Mrs. C, the secretary I had long ago befriended, what I was doing, she simply nodded and said, "Every day, Bec, because you're special and you make each one of us feel special. Every day I hear your name, I smile because you make me feel special." Wow. Just wow. This was still home even many years after. Of course, Sister Mary Joan, our principal, simply reiterated that before I left with a hug, a kiss, an I love you and a "you got it, mama." This was home, this is home and this always will be home.

      Later that afternoon, I was racing against time to meet the "Sister Who Shall Not Be Named" (according to her most simple request...we can't ruin her reputation). Once again, I was back at the Naz Acad ready for the second part of my day. Little did I know that her promise of flying a helicopter was a true promise and so, she hopped in the front seat of the always stylish mom van and we headed to the windy park. I remember spending afternoon after afternoon at that park in High School simply just walking around and loving every moment of it. As we both stood there, somewhat captivated by the simple beauty of it all, we agreed that we couldn't remember the last time we had been there. As we made the landing pad right near the baseball diamond, I couldn't help but remember the numerous amounts of pick-up softball games we played with the nuns there after school on Fridays. SWSNBN (Sister Who Shall Not Be Named) joined us a few times and I couldn't help but smile as she playfully called me a girl because I couldn't fly the helicopter. Of course, I won't neglect to mention that she was the one who ever so casually crashed it in the marshy baseball diamond. Before we knew it, we were both sinking in the sandy, rocky mud. Whatever. We decided to call it quits after someone's head ran into the helicopter and attempted to wash our shoes. Her inner very nunny self came out as she struggled to get every last particle of sand off her shoes. Finally, I just shouted, "Sister, it ain't prom! No one's going to be looking at your shoes." After laughing hysterically, we hopped in the car once more and headed to her favorite Chinese food restaurant. 

       The best conversations always start with a disagreement with her and of course, I started one. I said the table cloths and napkins were pink. She said they were mauve. We went back and forth, until finally, I let her win. "Mauve is a shade of purple," she said, "Not. Pink." Conversation continued and actually it was super sweet to finally catch up with her. To be quite honest, I felt so extremely blessed to have been able to spend such great time with an "acquaintance," but really someone who from the bottom of my heart, I love dearly. I mean, I am almost obligated to love her not only because she is my sister, but because she put up with me forcing SUNSHINE in her face every morning in High School. Poor girl often didn't even have her coffee yet before I was yelling down the hallway "GOOD MORNING SISTER!!!" I most likely drove her nuts but it was only because I was trying my hardest to make her smile. It's a wonder, after all these years and me still shouting "I LOVE YOU" after her, that she still keeps in contact with me. I honestly feel so blessed. After I dropped her off at home, I found myself thanking God all the way home. I felt so blessed to be able to laugh as freely and be as silly as I truly usually am with her. And that she felt she could do the same with me. From the bottom of my heart, I hope she knows as she's reading this, that I do love her as my sister!

       The blessings didn't end there, however. Remember how I said I promised to visit the Mount? Well, I found myself waking up this morning, pep-talking myself into going to Mass there. Like I said, I had never really down something so out of the blue there and even though I am seen as a risk-taker, I often have given myself a HUGE pep-talk before any risk can be taken. So after dropping my little Lizzie off at school, I headed down Holme Avenue and parked behind the Mount, a half an hour early for Mass. As I put my finger on the doorbell, I felt a sudden sense of peace as if I was truly meant to be there. There was an excitement that overtook me and I couldn't help but smile as Sister Evangeline opened the door. Before I could say anything, however, she exclaimed, "I can't believe my eyes! Welcome home, my Sister." God is so good! 

       I found an open seat in Chapel and within seconds I had gotten three hugs from various sisters. How beautiful it was to be welcomed home in such a simple and quiet way. I found myself thanking God once more as I heard the sisters begin prayers and I could so easily join them! And then to celebrate Mass with my sisters. One must understand that a good amount of the Sisters at the Mount have lived a long, beautiful a exciting life. Some sisters are simply retired and others are still on active ministry. It is a place where the sisters go when they are sick and getting ready for the last leg of life and yet these sisters have so much joy, more joy than I could ever imagine. A joy that, at the end of my  life, I wish to be blessed with. These sisters have given me such a reason to rejoice and I absolutely love visiting them. Most often there isn't any special reason, I just go. That's what I thought was happening today. But I found out I was wrong, after Mass.

       For every birthday in the house, all the sisters gather at the sister's bedroom and sing in both English and in Polish (it's tradition...)! Today, it was Sister Romuald's 98th birthday. And so, I boarded the elevator with the Sisters and we headed upstairs to her room. So many of us, all dressed in black and white and gray (even myself, ironically), stood by her bedside as we sang. At first, she was singing right along. I smiled, held back tears of joy, and looked back at the song sheet. Suddenly, I felt Sister Margaret Mary tap my arm. "Look," she whispered, "Look into her eyes." Then, my dear-hearted Sister Antonia Marie said something, "Look how she's looking at you, Bec." Before I knew it, not only were Sister Romuald's eyes on me, but so were the eyes of every sister in the room. They were watching the silent conversation take place between me and her. As I looked into her beautiful green-blue eyes, I felt such peace but I also felt the innocent love of God shoot me straight through my chest to my heart. It was as if she knew so much more about me and my future than I could ever know in my lifetime. I'm sure what she was thinking, but when Sister Nahida gently pushed me toward Sister Rom's beside, I knew she saw something in me. She saw the depths of my soul and I am so sure of it. I went to her side, patted her hand, wished her a happy birthday and thanked her for all her prayers for me. Every eye in that room was on the two of us, and yet, the conversation I shouted to her was meant for only us. We all experienced something so very beautiful this morning and even still, I can't really fathom what really did happen. All I know is that I looked into the eyes of an angel. 

        After the birthday celebration was over, a few of my dear sisters stood (or sat or leaned or rolled) into a circle around me. Each sister had questions or stories to tell me. I felt like a book on whose pages they were each writing. Sister Antonia Marie questioned my "skipping school," Sister Salvatore was wishing me good luck, Sister Nahida was suckering me into coming back on Saturday but most especially, Sister Stephanie, my high school Biology teacher, was telling me how she still has the box of sand I sent her from Cape May so many years ago next to her bedside. Eventually the sisters all went along on their way until it was just Sister Steph and myself. Our conversation continued and continued, until time meant nothing but being with her. There was no counting of minutes, there was no rushing from one place to the next, there was simply the two of us being together and enjoying each others' presence. I didn't realize how much I missed her until this morning, and once again, I felt so blessed. Eventually, I left her with an "I love you, always!" and then headed on my way out the door. When I got in the car, I realized I had spent two hours with my sisters including prayers and Mass. 

      God does that to me every so often. In this day and age when everyone is so time paranoid (myself included at times), He places me in a situation that I cannot be timed. He sends me home to a place where apparently my presence is missed so greatly, that I wind up spending inexhaustible amounts of time with my sisters. In every single moment in these past two days I have been reminded that not only am I loved by those around me but that I am remembered every day in pray, by my sisters, by my HS teachers, by my alma mater community. I am literally carried in so much prayer every day by so many people! This must be how life is so good for me all the time. In my absence at home, I am remembered and when I show up at the door, it's like the Father greeting the Prodigal Son. I am so blessed and I honestly cannot thank God enough for these beautiful people he has put into my life. Thank you, God. I am humbled by Your goodness in my life. 

Always Under The Same Moon and Stars

"Home. Let me come home. 

Home is wherever I'm with you."

- Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros

One of the first pictures of the two of us. AEFL!

     Walking through those front doors is like walking straight into a giant hug. Or being snuggled up with your Teddy Bear under a nice, knitted afghan blanket with a cup of coffee and a good book to read. Or like coming in from playing in the snow and smelling chicken noodle soup on the stove from Mom. Or even like the sun shining warm upon your and tanning your skin on a beautiful summer day. There is warmth and familiarity within those front doors. It's a feeling I can't even describe fully with those metaphors. It makes my soul smile, it makes my heart beat, I feel warm all the way through from my hair to my toes. It's a feeling of being home, but more so, the feeling of knowing you are loved.

     As per the tradition, I headed to supper at the Hospital Convent. Of course, my AE was pretending to be P.F. Chang in the kitchen as she mixed up a wild Lettuce Chicken Wrap (holy wow were they good) as I learned how to make some kind of Polish Egg Soup with Sister Teri. Soon, the sisters were trickling down to the kitchen and dining room as supper was being put out on the serving table. However, before plates were filled, hugs upon hugs were given. Honestly, I never get as many hugs in one night than a night spent at the convent. And since I love hugs so much, giving them and receiving them, it's always a smile for my heart and soul. 

      If there's one thing being in that dining room has taught me, it's that there is no rush when it comes to a meal. I have never eaten a meal with the sisters that has lasted less than an hour. I love it. There is always so much liveliness at those tables with stories upon stories upon stories. Anything from historical moments in our childhoods, like painting our sisters blue, to moments from the day, like the little ones playing guitaras. There is always a story to be told, always. I love it. I have never heard the same story once. They have taught me the true appreciation of one another. The listening, the conversing, the sharing, the appreciation of being with one another. Yes, I have learned that there. 

       Of course, like with any family, once the meal is over, most people head to the living room or in this case, the community room. And so, my AE and I sat next to each other as we talked with one another and the other sisters while at the same time, answering the Jeopardy questions. Women can multitask, you know. As the night wore on, we found ourselves watching old episodes of The Peanuts. I say old, because in reality, they were older than me (from 1985), but to a few of you, that's young. Being there with my sisters felt like home; like a warm cup of coffee being poured into my soul. It gave me a new sense of life and a reminder that there is always a place where I will be loved. 

        Soon, the sisters one by one left the community room and left me, my AE and Sister Eileen to be the last ones there. I tried so hard not to think about it, but as I hugged my AE one last time, my heart was silently breaking a little. This would be the last time I see my AE before she moved to Chicago. No longer will I be able to jump in the car and drive fifteen minutes down the road to see her. I'll have to catch a plane ride next time. And yet, I'll be seeing her on the Web. We'll somehow always be in constant communication. You see there's a reason she's my AE. AE stands for Alter Ego and we are scarily so alike, from Girl Scouts, to arts and crafts, to simply knowing when one needs the other. It still hasn't fully hit me that she won't be nearly as close as she always has been for me...I'm taking it in strides. 

     I know she will be so great as part of the USA CSFN Leadership Team and that God is truly working her to her greatest potential. But here's a secret: I don't like when the familiar surroundings change. Honestly, I can change anything I want about myself or have things about me change and find peace in it, but when things around me start changing, like people moving or buildings changing, my insides freak out. I want to come home from school and have everything be the same. I don't want to the church walls to be a different color and I want to know that I can drive down the road and see my closest sisters within minutes. And yet, things change. Change is inevitable...but growth is optional. And so, both of us must learn to grow from this experience. I'm going to miss being in the kitchen with her almost every other week in the Summer and having CREW at her house and crafting on the fifth floor, but I know somethings will never change. 

      When I walked out the back door, I didn't need a coat; I was still all warm from the hugs and love I received all night long. As I looked to the sky, I almost tripped down the stairs but that would have been ok. As I watched the clouds dance across the moon and stars, I realized something, something that I told Sister Angela Marie before she moved to Roma, Italy. No matter how far away in the world we are from each other, we are always under the same moon and stars. So when I'm looking up at the stars and you are, too, we are connected. You can imagine me doing the same. I'll admit, I didn't cry on the drive home, but as I sit here, being the story-teller that I am, I'm holding back the river. I'm going to miss her. Oh my gosh, am I going to miss her. But the good news is...there may be a trip to the Windy City soon enough for me. Then we'll be back to our old shenanigans. 

      And so, what I'd really want you to remember from this little lesson of mine is: home is wherever you are loved; change is inevitable, growth is optional; and no matter how far away, I am always under the same moon and stars. Best of luck in your new adventure, Sister Michele. Remember, I have Fridays AND Mondays off next semester ;)! AEFL, that is Alter Egos For Life (yeah, I went back to the nineties for a second...I went there). 

Jesus Look-a-Like

"He lives in you, 

He lives in me.

He watches over everything we see,

into the water, into the truth, 

in your reflection, 

He lives in you."

- "He Lives In You", The Lion King

 or 

     On Tuesday, I said what I thought would be my last goodbyes to the Nazareth Academy crowd before the New Year. But after wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I had one final stop: the Main Office. As soon as I walked in, Sister Mary Joan wrapped her "big sister" arms around my neck (literally my neck) and pulled my head under her chin. "What do you mean 'Merry Christmas'?" She asked. "I mean..uh..Merry Christmas?" Right away the ladies in the Main Office, Mrs. Versino and Mrs. Cardamone chimed in: "Yeah, aren't you coming back this week?" "Uh...no?" I answered, now unsure of my plans for the rest of the week. I was still in a loving headlock from Sister Mary Joan when she said, "You are always here for Mass. You never miss Christmas Mass." I agreed. And then the three of them in unison said, "So you're coming right?!" "Of course..." I mumbled, "Of course." 

      Having gone to my alma mater once a week for the past two and a half months, and then twice this week already, I was starting to feel like I was wearing out my welcome. And I can't lie, I needed my own little break from Nazareth. As much as I love my school a million, I'm there way too much for having graduated three years ago. And yet, something always drags me back in.Whether it's the people I love, the girls who are my sisters, my heart needing a little bit (or a lotta bit) or love or God just wants me there, I always get dragged back in. And the curse for anyone who goes through those front doors is: You can never just stay for a few minutes. You stay forever.

     And so, there I was this morning, trying to pick out something other than yoga pants and a t-shirt to wear to Mass. After baking my little sister four dozen brownies for her classmates at six this morning and getting her ready for school, I dropped her off and then headed to the great Naz Acad. With two minutes to spare, I pulled into the parking lot. Not one, not two, but ALL THREE (yes, I have three unofficial, official parking spots there....) were filled. You know what that means, those two minutes to spare were spent running from the back parking lot to the front door. Of course, nothing ever starts on time, so I spent that "extra time" catching up briefly with my A.E., Sister Michele. Before I knew it, those I had said "Merry Christmas" were now "harassing" me about how I "just couldn't stay away." God does some funny things, I told them. And boy was today just an emulation of that!

      Father began the homily by asking us what we thought Jesus looked like. He suggested Chase Utley, and the Brawny Man, but I couldn't disagree more. In my mind, I began to compose what Jesus would really look like: scruffy; dark, sun-tanned skin; dark, dark, wild brown hair; dark brown, almost black eyes; he wouldn't be too built, but he would be strong; his hands would be rough from carpentry work; and of course, he'd have blisters on his feet from his shoes. I smiled at this image in my head, but then I tuned back into the homily. "A baby..." I heard. Oh wait...Jesus did come as a baby at first. Immediately, I tried to picture this grown man I just drew in my head, as a newborn baby. 

      Ask anyone and they will tell you, I love babies. I love holding them, rocking them, singing to them, feeding them, playing with them, smiling at the them, waving at them, playing peek-a-boo with them, even changing their diapers...I don't even mind that. I love babies. They bring such joy to anyone's life with their innocence and their little-ness. Their eyes are wide, ready for the world and yet they are so fragile. I have so many babies in my life, that describing this makes it easy...and yet, I couldn't imagine Jesus as a baby. 

      As I went through my day at Nazareth (like I said, you can't leave.....), I caught up more with my AE, I crashed Sister David's second period and watched The Nativity Story with her class, bonded with Sister Teri over Special Education courses (ironic how we took the same class...) and finally, popped in to aid my dear Sister Mary Anthony. I tried to keep my profile low while I was in the building; the less people who knew I was there, the better. And yet, that never happens when Becca is in the building. But that's ok. God had me there for a reason.

      That reason was soon to be revealed to me as I sat in the Community Service Corps office with Sister Mary Anthony trying to fix the CSC Facebook Account. She is always multi-tasking, and so while I was fixing it, she was trying to call her Operation Santa Claus delivery spots. She was supposed to drop some presents off today, but she just wasn't going to make it. Without even fully knowing what was going on, my heart volunteered for the job. Right away, I said, "I can do it, Sister." Both of us were shocked at my abrupt volunteer, but God was in it. As we quickly chatted, I found out more and more information. The drive was a half hour away, in a different state and completely out of the way of home for me. But, oh well. When she told me where I was going, I knew right away that God was working in my visit to Naz. The place was called "Our Lady of Sorrows," and I have a huge devotion to her. 

       I quickly printed out directions to where I was going and we headed downstairs to get the presents. We filled up my front seat and then we hugged good-bye. As I drove, it was as if I didn't even need the directions; my heart was leading me to where I was going. I got there a lot sooner than I had expected and dropped off the packages. Just like I did every year, my eyes started to water as the lady gave me a huge hug and thanked me. She told me that Makhai would love the gifts; I knew he would. When I got into the car to drive home, that's when I got it: the reason I couldn't picture Jesus as a baby is because He is not a baby anymore. 

      I reflected back on my day and realized, Jesus doesn't look like a baby, nor does He look like that Middle Eastern man I described. He looks like Makhai. He looks like the lady who opened the front door at Our Lady of Sorrows. He looks like Sister Mary Anthony, Sister David, Sister Teri, Sister Michele and Sister Mary Joan. He looks like the ladies in the main office. He looks like my favorite teachers. He looks like the homeless men and women I saw on my drive through the poor neighborhoods. He looks like my little sisters and their friends. He looks like the tired, worn and exhausted parents. He looks like the parents of the 20 children killed in Connecticut. He looks like their teachers and principal who stood in the line of fire. He looks like the kids in Jamaica that I think about everyday who have no family but each other. He looks like the families in New Orleans who live in the houses I once helped build. Jesus looks like all of these people and so many more. This is why I couldn't picture Him as a baby, because He lives in them and you and me. He looks like us. We are Jesus look-a-likes! 

      

A Constant Reminder

"A constant reminder of where I can find Her light that might give up the way.

It's all that I'm asking for without Her I'm lost,

my Love don't fade away."

- "Reminder," Mumford and Sons

     I'm a huge Mumford and Sons fan. Their new CD has been on constant reply since it came out on Tuesday. I almost know every word to every song. However, like with most music, I can easily find my new favorite song. This time, it's "Reminder." So often, I've been able to relate so many of their songs to my God and my Faith. This song is no exception. From the moment I heard it, I instantly thought of Mary, JC's Mama. Now that may be because on top of the dome at school, Mary is not only overlooking us all, but she lights up. True story. However, today, as I drove home from visiting my high school, "Reminder" took on a whole new meaning. 

     For the past week, I've been in a stage of avoiding all people, being solitary and quite frankly, downright miserable. We all have our down days, mine just happened to last a week. Life is not always joy and sunshine; sometimes it has to rain. It rained (literally) for me this week. However, there was one thing that kept me hanging on: Wednesday night I was going home. And thank God for Sister Cathy who constantly reminded me of that notion (just another reason why she's wonderful). By Wednesday morning, even my body knew it was time to leave campus and go home; pain was everywhere. And so, by the grace of God and the kindness of friends and professors, I made it home earlier than expected. I needed my Teddy Bear, my bed and my little snuggling sister. And Wednesday night, I got that.

      Now usually on Thursdays, I head out with a group of three other crazy Secondary Education majors (AKA my best friends) and go to observations. Since I was home, I didn't head out with my three best friends, but rather my little sisters. Yes, little Lizzie and I went to Mass after we dropped Mary off at the carpool house! Soon after Mass, Lizzie was walking into school while I was heading to my Alma Mater for surprise observations with one of my closest friends, Sister Mary Anthony. The honest truth is that, I missed first and second period because of heavy city traffic, and she only taught one class since her Sophomores were on retreat. However, that doesn't make the day worse, but better.

      You see, whenever I walk through the front doors, I don't get a visitor pass, but rather, a smile, a hug and a beautiful "welcome home" from my principal and the ladies in the main office. After I arrived, later than expected, I headed toward where "my sister" would be. Instead of finding her, I found another dear sister of mine, Sister Teresa Mary (she's after Teresa of Avila, my main girl). For a half hour, we chatted and caught up, something we rarely get to do when I visit. She's always busy; I'm always busy. But today, God was working in full force with the graces. After our visit, I finally found my sister during the activity period.
      She's a new teacher at my alma mater, but she has taken the place by storm. All the girls love her bustling energy, her creativity and her willingness to go the extra ten miles. As she was conducting her CSC (Community Service Corps) meeting, a plethora of my previous teachers floated in and out of the student dining room, each one surprised to see me but had more than one hug ready for me. There's no other place in the world where it is acceptable to hold a previous student's face, tell her how wonderful she is and then hug her real tight as if it's been years. In no other place could I have possibly bonded with so many of the faculty that I am their family, their youngest grandchild, their favorite niece, their crazy sister, and even their equal. I am seen not as a graduate, but as a member of a family. And the hugs and love I receive each time I walk through the door, reminds me of a huge, Italian family. I love them all.
      The rest of the day held constant surprises for me, but the biggest surprise of all was being able to help out at the Sophomore Retreat. Within seconds of my entering the gym behind all the girls, Sister Michele casually mentioned there was a visitor in the room. Truth is, I looked around, questioning who this visitor might be. Finally, as Sister David started to laugh, I realized this "visitor" was me. However, as I walked down the aisle, with a hundred plus sets of (unknown) eyes watching me, Sister Michele began to explain how I really wasn't a visitor but rather part of the family. She told the girls how we met at my own Sophomore retreat and how much it had changed my life in such a beautiful way. She casually mentioned how she never knows where I am going to turn up next, whether in New Orleans, Jamaica, Chicago, Philadelphia, anywhere and she was just as surprised when she heard I was in the building today. Then, as she often does, asked if I wanted to say anything. Of course I did.
      Somehow, I came out with the most random and God-filled mini speech about being open to God and His Will. I talked about stepping over the line into God's hands and having to take not just one foot, but the other behind it. I had no idea where that came from, however, I felt all those eyes on me and I knew, I just knew God wanted those words to be said. When I finished, Sister David (she was the first sister I ever told about my discernment) said to me, "Sweetheart, you've been open since the day I met you. That was beautiful." I couldn't help be return the wonderful words and tell her how great she is.
      For the rest of the afternoon, I helped my sisters in running the remainder of the retreat and what fun we had. As I interacted with both the students and the faculty, I couldn't help but feel such excitement for teaching in my heart. I was once again reminded about how much I am meant to be a teacher, especially for these high school aged students who really need, as one of the faculty members said to me, "a cool, hip, number one Jesus fan."
     And quite honestly, I need them. They reminded me today of hope, hope for my career, for my life, and for what God is calling me to do, but as a young person and a religious. They reminded me that it's totally ok to have those rotten, miserable days, because there is always going to be someone to hug you and embrace you, whether a friend, family member, sister or Jesus. They reminded me to remain open. And of course the reminded me of the light Nazareth will always be for me. Truly, without Her I would be lost. Oh and ironically enough, Nazareth has a dome that lights up, too!

I Know My Call...

"I know my call despite my faults, and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope. I'll find strength in pain. I'll know my name as it's called again."

- Mumford and Sons

     As I walked up the front steps in just my wool sweater, I thought, the first thing I'll hear when I walk through the door is, "Where is your coat, young lady?" And as the front door swung open without my having to ring the bell, what was I greeted with but, "Where is your coat, young lady?" I couldn't help but laugh. No, I wasn't visiting my Mommom; I was visiting my nun. Yep, she's pretty much my grandmother. 

     Walking up the front steps was nothing new for me; It's something I've been doing for about five years and it never ceases to bring such a happy smile to my face. This was a place I called home so many times. And even as we prepared lunch in the kitchen, the sisters said, "You know where things belong better than we do sometimes." It's true, that kitchen is my favorite place in the whole house. I've often said that the best discernment is done in the kitchen, by cooking, eating and cleaning with each other; the sisters seem to satisfy that desire of mine. It might have to do with my Italian heritage, but I simply find the best conversation is done over a meal. Anyway, today, I was home. 

    My nun, my best friend, my dearest sister, my mama penguin, all of the above and more, invited me over (finally) for a long chat and lunch. Oh how I've missed her. It was our chance to finally catch up after so many months. Even though when I visit my high school, I see her, I don't get the chance to catch up and so, there was a lot of catching up to do. I told her all that had happened, all that was happening and all that should be happening. And she did the same for me!! Of course, then we had lunch together at my favorite table. 

    You see, there's the kitchen and then there's the dining room. I love the dining room, but the kitchen is my favorite. There's a little table in there that supposedly seats four, but really, however many you want. No matter what time of day you walk into the kitchen there is always someone at the table and always coffee in the pot. It's the congregating place of the house and without a doubt, there's always a small nun party going on. And that's exactly what we walked into; a nun party. We had lunch with so many sisters who came in and out, and it was just like home. People coming and going and eating and cooking and talking and washing and drying. Sitting around the table, I felt right at home; like I belonged. When I looked down, I half expected myself to be wearing a habit, it felt so perfect. 

    After lunch, me and my nun when to the Chapel, not only to pray, but to clean! I was so excited to be cleaning Chapel, that the sisters must have thought there was something wrong with me. But truthfully, back in High School, I would catch my nun every Friday cleaning, and I would sneak in to pray until she asked me to help her. It became such a ritual and it's part of the reason she and I became so close. You see, she was the first sister I ever told I was thinking about being a sister. And from that moment during my Sophomore year, she quietly prayed for and encouraged me. She never once pressured me into choosing a lifestyle, but rather opened my eyes to her lifestyle.   I spent more time with her talking about my fears and joys and dreams than I had with any other sister. She was the reason I started visiting the convent and she's the reason I keep coming back. While she wasn't the first nun in my life, she is certainly the most influential. Truly, if it wasn't for her, I'd still be trembling in fear of the very idea of entering religious life. I never would have explored the vocation, or be nearly as outspoken about it as I am now. She is the type of sister we all look back to; the sister who opened our eyes and ears to the call. There are so many sisters I know now because of her, and while she is probably reading this now, humbly thinking, not me, it's all true. Many say they don't know where they would be without a certain person, but I know where I'd be; not here and not nearly as close to God. And even though she doesn't know this, sometimes when I want to give up on this vocation and tell God, the deal is over, I think of her smile and her joy and think, "Yeah, that's the life I want." Because "I know my call despite my faults, and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope. I'll find strength in pain. I'll know my name as it's called again." And she is my hope. 

A Reason to be here...

          For the first time in over three months, I went back to my home Parish for Mass. Out of the three times I’ve been home from school, I haven’t gone to Mass at my Parish; I’ve gone with the sisters. Even when I’m home during breaks, I don’t go to my own Parish for a plethora of reasons. The main reason is that I find I can’t focus when I’m home. Between sitting with my little sisters and giggling through the whole Mass to seeing the large amount of parishioners that literally line up to talk to me about a various list of topics stemming from school, to discernment, to Scripture. Gee whiz, I’m flattered really, but I need to focus on my Jesus. Another reason is that sometimes going to my home Parish is too painful for various reasons, and instead of being reminded of those memories, I prefer to church hop. But alas, today there was not nearly enough energy in my system to church hop and I had already spent two full days with the sisters (not that either party would have minded…just my family), and I found myself sitting in a side pew, trying my hardest to be incognito about being home.

            As I knelt there, I attempted to focus but I was once again too distracted by the sea of familiar faces and the sometimes painful memories. In desperation, I merely said, “Jesus, why am I here. Give me a reason to be here.” Now I must tell you, it’s not a secret that my Boyfriend loves me, but sometimes He likes to teach me patience. Today, however, He delivered ASAP.

            If you’ve ever spoken with a Vocation Director, he or she may have told you to pay close attention to the Scriptures because that is Jesus’ love letter to us. Some days I find it easy to listen intently to Scripture but I often have those mornings where I’m still half asleep when I’m at Mass. Today, thank goodness, I was wide awake, or I would have missed JC’s message to me.

            First, the first reading was from the book of Wisdom. One line in particular spoke to me saying, “Those who wait for her at dawn will not be disappointed.” I felt as if Scripture was talking about me. You see, as a college student, it’s not normal to get up at the crack of dawn when classes don’t start for another two, sometimes three hours. Yet, the dawn is my time with JC. I’ve always loved sunrises and JC sure does paint a beautiful picture for me every morning. For He who waits for me every morning at dawn, I will not disappoint.

            Second, for the first time, I heard the new assistant priest give a homily. At first I was confused because I had never seen him before. Ever. But my little sis insisted he had been there a while. And so, after the initial confusion, I sat intently and tried to listen as closely as possible. However, my little sis, like me, sometimes doesn’t know when to stop talking and so, we had our own conversation. Suddenly, she stopped dead in the middle of a sentence to say, “Becky, did you hear that?” and before I could ask what she was talking about, I heard it: “…Holy Family of Nazareth.” I was literally blown away. You see, not only was the Homily (I soon learned) about the love of the Holy Family of Nazareth, the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth is one of the few communities I’ve explored in my discernment, but they are also the community I was “raised” by and within which I find so many of my best friends.

            And so, in response to my, “Jesus, give me a reason o be here,” He answered, “…Holy Family of Nazareth.” Perhaps it was nothing short of a sign from JC to set me in the right direction. Or maybe it was the sign that I needed to LOVE even more and in that LOVE be open to GOD’s plan for me, not my own plan. Regardless, I’m still head over heels in love with my Jesus. He has truly captured my heart and I am His.