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. 

With Arms Wide Open

"I am He whom thou seekest!

Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."

- "The Hound of Heaven," Francis Thompson

     I looked up at the crucifix as I knelt in an unfamiliar church. I had just finished taking my PRAXIS test (my teacher test) and I was on my way home. I was hoping I'd make it in time for a 7 PM service for Good Friday. Did you know that there was only one church in the Archdiocese that had a 7 PM service? What's even more interesting, is that I found the church. I walked into a church that I had passed multiple times on my journeys through Mayfair to visit my Nunnies. It was long, spacious and had a lot of steps. I surprised myself by how close to the altar I walked to (I'm the typical, let's sit in the back Catholic) but knelt there praying anyway. I watched as the priest showed the altar servers where they would be going throughout the service. Suddenly, the open tabernacle caught my eye. 

    In most Catholic churches, right below the Crucifix, is the tabernacle (the vessel in which the Blessed Sacrament is held). After Holy Thursday Mass, the tabernacle is left open while the Blessed Sacrament is reposed in another location (a chapel, a repository, a different part of the church). The tabernacle in my home parish as well as the one in this church I was visiting have two doors that split down the center and push away to either side in order to open, that is, the same way one would have to uncross their arms and spread them to give a hug. 

     Many times I have quoted a dear priest friend of mine when talking about hugs from the Savior. So many times I have needed to hands of a friend when I was suffering or when I wanted to share good news. Often I have found myself in Chapel in tears wanting only for someone to find me and allow me to curl up next to them and cry with them. I've wanted someone to hold me safe from the pain. I've wanted to run into someone's arms and have them swing me around at the mention of good news. But often, in those moments, no one seems to be around...except for Jesus. I look to the crucifix in those moments and I hear Jesus say, "With arms wide open, I'll show you love. I'll show you everything" (CREED). The best hugs come from someone who is always ready with open arms to hug and love you. 

      On Holy Thursday night, while I was laying in my bed reflecting on my night, I was thinking about the AGAPE prayer service Sister Marcelina had told me about that her Sisters do on every Holy Thursday night. AGAPE, my favorite greek word since high school, means unconditional love. There are three different types of love in the GREEK language: eros (physical love), philos (love between friends) and agapos (unconditional love). In the Gospel of John, Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. In English, we hear love three times. In Greek we hear philos twice and agapos as the final question. This is how I fell in love with the Greek word AGAPE, while studying the Gospel of John in my Senior Greek class with Senor O'Connell. Every so often I go back to those memories of class and learning those words of love and I can always guarantee a personal reflection on AGAPE love during these holy days of the Triduum.

      These days are the most awesome and accurate actions of AGAPE. Jesus loved us so much, beyond all conditions (regardless of whichever sins we commit, whatever amount of wrong we do, no matter how long we go without speaking to Him) and so much that He gave His life for us. At the Garden, He loved his apostles despite the fact that they fell asleep while keeping watch with Him. He loved the sinners, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, the sailors, even those who arrested Him. He loved them all so much that He allowed himself to be arrested. And what was His crime? Imagine that one could be convicted of loving too much. For truly those who love much, suffer much. Jesus suffered because of His AGAPE love for us all. With arms wide open, He stretched His arms across the cross so as to remind us of his AGAPE hug. 

      That's not the end, however. I go back to the Tabernacle. During the Mass, the tabernacle is opened right before the congregation receives the Eucharist, which is the Body and Blood of Christ. When the tabernacle is opened, it is a literal reminder of the opening of Jesus' arms. His AGAPE love is present above the tabernacle in the visual of His arms wide open, in the tabernacle as the doors open like arms opening for a hug or the be spread on the cross, and in the Eucharist. The AGAPE love is the love from Heaven present among us. The truth is, Jesus' arms are always wide open, ready at any moment to give us His hug, to give us His AGAPE love. Yet, often we do not take advantage of His love. We look at His open arms and turn away. 

      As I reflected on the beauty of the open tabernacle and the arms of my Beloved spread across the cross for His death, three lines from the poem, "The Hound of Heaven," written by Francis Thompson, ran through my mind. While it may be hard to understand with all the dravests and seekests and thees and thous, when one converts these words to modern English, it says "I am the one you seek. You drive love away from yourself, you who drive away Me." I have been working with this poem as I work on my Seminar paper because it was a personal favorite of Eugene O'Neill. For the past month and a half, I have reading and re-reading "The Hound of Heaven" trying to figure it out. As I reflected at Good Friday service, I had a revelation. So many of us, myself included, is the hound of heaven. The first few lines talk about fleeing the Lord, running away like Jonah had, like O'Neill did, like I do. 

      "You drive away love from yourself, you who drive away Me." How often have we looked at the crucifix, the open tabernacle, the Eucharist and refused the love of God?! How often have we searched for love in so many other places and refused to believe the AGAPE love of Jesus on the cross?! So many times we have driven away the love of God by our actions, by our sins. We have built walls and walls of sin, emotion and refusal. We have refused to believe in the love of God and the AGAPE of Jesus. So many, many, many times have we looked at the Crucifix and not believed that we were worth the unconditional love of Jesus. 

      Yet, I also read this another way. "You who drive away love, drive away Me." That is, whenever we drive away love for whatever reason. Whenever we believe that we are not worth the love of another, or that we are not capable of being loved, we drive away God who is LOVE. Anytime we do not accept love because "we accept the love we think we deserve" (Chbosky), we drive away the love from God. The love of God is present in each human being and when we do not accept another human's love, we are refusing the love of God as well. As I thought of this, I began to cry. 

     There are so many reasons why I often only accept the love I think I deserve and there are many people who have tried to love me beyond that. Often, I have had a hard time believing I am worth the love they try to give me. When I read the lines of the poem, I suddenly realized that every time I drive away the love someone is trying to give me, I am also driving away God. I am driving away his AGAPE  love present in another person. I am driving away the reason He died on the cross, the reason for Holy Week, the reason for EASTER. I am driving away God. 

      Often times, we are so busy throughout our days to even remember that we are loved by others, much less by Jesus. There are other days when we are in search of love and cannot find it. On these days we must remember to turn our eyes to Jesus on the cross, with His arms wide open telling us that it is "with arms wide open, I'll show you love" (CREED). 

She Said Yes - Nun Wedding Take Two

"Thus says the Lord:

Here is my servant whom I uphold, 

my chosen one with whom I am well pleased, 

upon whom I have placed my spirit."

- Isaiah 42: 1-2

Photo Credit: Sister Angela Szczawinska, CSFN

    It's the second semester of the school year; my last semester as an undergrad. I moved back into my dorm room on Thursday morning and spent the day appropriately for a Senior. I wondered the campus visiting the sisters, having coffee  in the caf, hanging out in offices and of course, seeing all my friends after being separated from them for three weeks. Oh, class, you ask. I don't have class on Thursdays or Fridays. I continued the appropriate journey of my first day back as a second semester senior by visiting the Motherhouse and surprising the sisters and then going back to school to hangout in my friend's room until the odd hours of the night. I woke up early the next morning, headed to Mass and then I was on my way to the train station, barely having been on campus no more than 24 hours.

    It was time for the second adventure of the year 2014 (the first, having been New Orleans): Chicago. I have made a yearly visit to Chicago (truly, Des Plaines) for the past three years. While all of those times were special, this was an extremely special time. Finally, Sister Gabriela would be making final vows and I would be blessed to witness it. So, I boarded the train like a big girl, headed to the airport, printed out my ticket, passed through security and then waited in the terminal.
    As I was waiting to board, not only did my twin friends show up (we were taking the same flight), but I also made friends with an English teacher because I was reading a book. It amazes me how many friends I can make simply by being open to the Christ in others. I was reading a book and she was impressed, because no one reads books anymore. So then we shared stories and I told her how I am becoming a high school English teacher. It was nice and I knew then, that my journey to the Midwest was definitely going to be an eventful one.
    We landed in Chicago in the early afternoon and headed to the convent while catching up on life with Sister Sandie and Sister Lucille. Upon arriving, we were greeted by so many various sisters all over the house. There was a hustle and bustle just because "the girls were finally here safe." All the sisters were worried that our flight would be delayed or cancelled. But we made it. After supper, we all hurried around the dining room excitedly as we set the tables for the big celebration on Sunday. I've never quite counted that many forks and knives, but at least I got to do so with Sister Clare Marie. Then, of course, we had our informal game playing and catching up with a few sisters before bed. To our big surprise, the bride-to-be was home early from her retreat and thank God, because as only it can be in the Midwest, the winter weather was miserable.
     The next day was spent doing all types of crazy things. We started off with Mass and then breakfast with Sister Sandie and Sister Lucille's unit (while they live in one big house, there are different branches of the building and so the sisters live in both small and large community). We had choir practice (yes, we were assumed into the choir as honorary good voices), went on a crazy adventure during which I got to navigate Little Blue through Des Plaines and visit the United Nations' Shop'N'Save, and got to spend some teatime with the Novices and one of my best friends, Sister David. In the afternoon, we were busied with baking cookies and salad for the Bridal Shower. As always, however, I was stolen away from our little group to do various little decorating things because, and I quote, "Becca's creative. She can help you." It was a choice between two of my favorite things: baking and decorating. Of course, it was a bulletin board that needed decorating and the teacher in me got super excited.
     Finally, after all our preparing, the party could begin. We celebrated the bride-to-be with laughter, conversation and pizza from Mugs. Of course conversations always spill around jokingly, hypothetically all of us becoming sisters. We joked about picking religious names or having them picked for us. For example, apparently I'd make a good Sister Rafaela because I have long, curly hair like an angel. Another suggestion was Sister Heliodora which is polish for sunflower. Both are accurate. But of course, my name Rebecca means so much. The other girls we dubbed with some slightly more serious names like "faith, hope and love." We heard many stories and laughed so much. Blessed Frances Siedliska, their foundress, even made an appearance. Let me tell you how cool that was! Very! We ended the party by singing along to some songs such as "hakuna matata," "my God," "Oh Happy Day," and "So Long, Farewell." Of course, we also listened to one of Sister Gabriela's favorite songs and immediately, I was brought to tears almost immediately as the sisters sang along as a blessing over Sister Gabriela.
     Anyone who knows me, knows I don't do the tears in public thing. So, after we sent Sister "off to bed," I sought out my dear Sister David and told her she had to hug me so I wouldn't be embarrassed crying. She laughed and hugged me. It had been months since I had seen her and even longer since I had cried with her. We cleared up the room and then headed upstairs to the community room to have a chat. We sat down and had a long overdue heart to heart about making decisions and celebrating Senior year. She reassured me that no matter what decision I make, she will always be there to love me! I felt peace and tears of overwhelming happiness. Then after getting figuratively murdered multiple times by the general councilor in some wicked games of Mafia, we headed to bed. The next day was a big day.
     We woke early for breakfast at 8:30 and spent the morning enjoying the hustle and bustle of the wedding. At one point, I found myself in the Chapel praying morning prayer but soon crying again. I admit it, I was a blubbering mess most of the weekend. That's what happens when one is in love with Jesus and He reminds you often. A few of the Polish sisters suddenly started singing the most beautiful composition of Psalm 45 I had ever heard. It was in Polish and yet, it still spoke to my heart. Sister Clare Marie came over to me, and seeing that I was tearing up, patted my cheek and said, "Jesus loves you, how could He not?" I smiled and hugged her then went back to my prayer.
     Before we knew it, it was time for the wedding to take place. Everything seemed perfect for the day. The readings were perfect, the music was perfect, the people were perfect. Of course, the blubbering baby in me came out during the Mass so many times. Like when Sister Gabriela prostrated before the altar as we sang the Litany of the Saints. And when she received her ring. And when the sisters stood to accept her as a new full member of their community. And when Mother Jana accepted her vows. And when she spoke to her parents, thanking them, in Polish, even though they were watching from Poland. And of course, when she so beautifully smiled the entire time. Wow, what a witness to be able to watch a beautiful bride make her eternal vows to her infinite Love. And also to be surrounded by so many other beautiful Brides of Christ. It was so overwhelmingly beautiful.
     We continued to celebrate by a beautiful lunch and then after the party departed, bustling around, staying busily giddy about the wedding as only young (and young at heart) women can. I even bumped into Sister Barbara Jean (after scaring her half to death) and had a little chat with her. Of course, my favorite part of the conversation was when she asked if I had a boyfriend and I laughed. She then told me she was serious and I answered very seriously in return, "Yes. Jesus." I left her by saying, "Goodbye, Mother" as she was the one who dressed as Blessed Frances the night before and she sent me off with a blessing: "Be good, daughter."
     Then, before we knew it, we were on the airplane on the way home. Of course, this was after Sister David was panicking that we would miss our flight and then being delayed an hour. Even though we were delayed, I still had to give Sister (mother) a call to let her know I arrived safe and sound in Philly. I have so many moms..and I love it.
      As my best friends drove me home, I couldn't help be share so many stories with them. And thank God they accept me for who I am, completely in love with Jesus and all. I reflected on all the tears, all the smiles, all the laughter. I thanked God once again for allowing me to witness yet another beautiful Nun Wedding. Of course, I thanked God for asking me to be His eventual bride forever. And honestly, I can't wait. Eventually there will be a blog post titled "My Own Nun Wedding" but all in God's good time. Oh Jesus, how I love You so much. And Sister Gabriela, thank you, not only for letting me witness your final vows, but also for being my friend, my sister AND introducing me to the song "Everyday God" so that I can sob every time I hear it. Kochem cie, Siostra. Dziekuje.

 

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. 

IHM for the Day - Feast Day

"Almighty and eternal God I renew and confirm with all my heart, the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, which I made at my profession, and I implore your grace to accomplish them perfectly. May my life be one of faithful love, may it reflect my total dependence on you, may my will be your will alone. In imitation of Jesus and Mary, I make my prayer forever."

- IHM Renewal of Vows, December 8, 2012

     Every school has something they are proud of. Perhaps it's a football team. Maybe it's a music group. It could even be outstanding academics. For Immaculata, we are proud of Feast Day. Every single year, on December 8, we celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Every year we have off from school, a big Mass and a huge feast in the cafeteria afterwards. Every year, it is my favorite day. But for one reason other than the reasons I've already listed. Every year, the IHM sisters renew their vows in front of us, the students and faculty. And every year, it melts my heart.

     Like we always do, the "choir" embraced their inner nerd and planned coordinating outfits. Of course, what other colors than blue and white would we wear? The sisters' habits are blue and white and so, it's their HUGE feast day. Of course we have to match them. So, I donned my "nun" dress and my "nun" sweater, and my "nun" shoes. Yep, I was blue and white from head to toe. It was great. 

     So much of today was perfect. I was blessed to work with my favorite piano nun, Sister Regina. I was blessed to sing with my friends. I was blessed to once again give voice to the Magnificat. I was blessed be able to share hugs and kisses and "Happy Feast Days" with my sisters. I am blessed to have so many beautiful relationships with the sisters that I am more than a student. I have somehow assumed the role of little sister. So, when I came bustling into Chapel this morning proclaiming "Happy Feast Day" the sisters could only laugh and open their arms for hugs. 

      So many students attended Mass, so of course a smile was brought to my face. And even more students partook in the feast downstairs. And while it was truly great to see my peers in such happiness, I couldn't help but think of my sisters and how blessed they probably felt. For some of them, so many years have passed since their day of final profession. For others, it is a memory so close. But for all of the sisters, it was a moment in their lives they could never forget. The final "I do" to Christ. The final, "Ok, hun, let's do this." And it was the first of many, "I'm Yours. Only Your will, oh God." Every single year, when I hear the sisters renew their vows, I cry. I can't help it. I literally have such tears of joy and happiness in my eyes and rolling down my face. I feel so blessed to witness this moment. And I couldn't help but think that in a few years (well...a long time actually), I could be standing there with my sisters, too. But instead of listening, I'll be proclaiming my renewal right alongside them. How wonderful!

      In the Cafeteria, after Mass, there were people everywhere. Essentially, it's the most crowded the caf ever is. Even the sisters were having a hard time finding a seat. But alas, they did. There was such joy and fellowship surrounding us and I couldn't help but finally let my heart float free on God's good graces. As I wished each of the sisters Happy Feast once again, each had a hug for me. And I had one for them. Some even had a few words for me or something else tucked under the sleeve. One sister in particular, well instead of hugging me, she kissed the air in my direction and unknowingly tickled my elbow. (I am the only person in the world, I'm convinced who is ticklish on her elbow). I had to laugh! 

     I love them each in my own way. The sisters at school are literally the most unique collaboration of sisters I have ever seen. From Arts and Drama to Psychology and Education, they each have special gifts to offer. Especially when I interact with them. Some always have kind words, others tease me as only a big sister could, and others, well, they know my heart so well. I am so blessed. I am so, so, so blessed to have my sisters here. 

Happy Feast Day, friends!

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!

Counting The Tears

"Don't ever discount the wonder of your tears. 

They can be healing waters and a stream of joy.

Sometimes they are the best words a heart can speak."

- W. Paul Young, The Shack

     "You have a history with 'Mikes'," she said to me. "Yeah, I guess I do," I answered wiping snot and tears off my face. I had been curled up in a ball on the last seat in the last row of chairs in Chapel when she walked in. I was literally sitting in the fetal position, with my head down, sobbing. Not even five minutes before another sister had walked through the "magic door" and found me there. She gently came over, stood beside me, with her hand on my shoulder and said, "Cry, just let it out. I'll pray. You cry." Five minutes later, my dear sister walked in and found me. I hate, hate, hate crying in front of people, especially people whose idea of me is the "tough as nails" girl. Yet, I just continued to sob as these two sisters walked in and sat with me. It was the type of crying where you can't really breathe right, or even talk higher than a whisper, because  the tears are just continually running down your face. It was the type of cry, where I just wanted to fall into someone's lap and stay there, protected from the horrible news I just heard. As I sit here to write this, I sob again, mourning not only a friend, or a fellow parishioner, but rather, someone who was like another father to me my whole life. 

     He was a sarcastic man, with a brutal sense of humor. You had to learn to understand him. He was a rough and tumble type of man, like mot people from Croydon. He never took any crap from anyone. He came off as mean and bitter and wicked, but we all knew that was just Mike. Inside, he cared more about you than he often let on. I know this for a fact because he always told me that if anyone tried to hurt me, he'd have to use a lot of self-restraint not to kill them. Truth is, he probably would. He wasn't afraid to tell people how he felt, or what he thought, even if he was wrong. It often seemed as if he was made of cast-iron and maybe some brick, too. Yet (and he'd kill me for saying this but it's true...), he was marshmallow soft instead. How do I know? He told me my voice was good enough to make a grown man cry, tears of awe. And after he said that, he told me if anyone but me sang at his funeral, he'd jump right out of his casket and raise hell. These are all direct quotations, I promise. He made me promise with my whole heart that I would do all I could to make sure I sang at his funeral. I never thought I'd have to do it from my pew so soon. 

     Most people don't get the close-knit network my Parish has. It literally is like I have so many fathers, so many mothers and so many brothers and sisters. The sign of peace takes forever, because we HAVE to say hello  to everyone. The saying, "It takes a whole community to raise a child" definitely applies to EVERY SINGLE KID that grew up in Croydon. We are all so close with one another and so right now, we're all mourning with one another. I can't tell you how many Facebook messages and texts I've gotten from my parish family members, all of us in tears, just sobbing over the phone or the internet. Losing Mr. Frat, is losing a part of my family, losing a part of myself. People shake their heads at how upset I get when something happens to my parish, but they just don't understand. This is family. This is what sustains me in prayer and love and faith and humor. And the hardest part about being away from all of them right now, is that I have to cry alone physically. I know spiritually and emotionally, they are all carrying this sorrow with me. But it's hard. I just wish I could be home. 

      This is a lesson in trust, I know. I have to trust God on this. And I also think this is God telling me, I'm getting soft in my old age. I mean, I seriously just told the whole world I'm sobbing and mourning. I've got to really trust God in this situation. I've got to trust that He knows what He is doing. And I've got to trust that He'll send me someone here with big open arms, willing to get their shoulders soaked, and hold me in a long hug while I try to count my tears. 

       Thanks all for the prayers and support. I know the family really appreciates it. 

How To Survive Convent Life - Lesson #4

"In order to survive convent life,
one must learn to laugh at oneself for one's mistakes
and at God's humorous events.
One must find true joy in the Lord. "
- Lesson #4

      One of my all time favorite books is the classic, In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden. Within the first 100 pages of the book, the reader meets Sister Julian, a young Benedictine Sister who is "trying her vocation" in the monastery of Brede. Right away, I felt companionship and solidarity with Sister Julian because she loves to laugh. In fact one of the sisters said about her, "She did great things but I think the best of them was that she taught me to laugh." I, like Sister Julian, simply love to laugh.

     On my second day in Jamaica, my dear "companion on the journey," Sister Mary, said to me, "Becca, I've never seen someone laugh as much as you." I simply replied, "Sister, I love to laugh." In return, she said, "That, my dear, is truly a gift you have." I reflected on her words, as I always have with words about my laughter. I came to the conclusion that she was right; it is a gift I can laugh at so much. 

      On our last day, our travel home day, I got stopped at customs and had to answer a few questions. When I stuttered on one of my answers, the US customs worker questioned me further. I simply smiled, gave a little laugh, and in return, his stern face embraced a smile, too and then he waved me through. Sister, who was waiting on the other side of customs, watched the whole event take place. When I finally caught up to her, she said, "You avoided a lot of trouble for both of us this past week with that winning smile and gentle smile. You've got everyone wrapped around your finger by your joy." I simply smiled in return. Later, I said to her, "Sister, you know, when you share a smile, things change instantly." It's the truth.

      Last night, I made an impromptu visit to the convent at home. I was seriously planning on only staying for maybe a half an hour. However, I should have expected that, like any visit there, I would be there for a few hours. I was there for three and a half. As I enthralled the sisters, my sisters, with story after story after story of my journey, we laughed so hard; all of us, together. I distinctly remember one of my dearest Sisters, casually strolling into the community room, where we were are seated, and when she saw me, came over and "tackled" me in only a way a Sister could. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight telling me how glad she was that I was home. I laughed and laughed. I told all the sisters about my laughter in Jamaica and with their smiles, they agreed; I DO love to laugh. 

       Laughing with my Sisters last night and sharing all the conversations did remind me that I missed that while I was away. With my Sisters, despite the age gaps between us, I can share anything, and we did share so much. I shared about the struggles I had while in Jamaica, the personality conflicts, and yet, my understanding of why things happen the way they did. I shared about having to bite my tongue, to let things go and to not let things bother me. I shared very personal things with these women, things I could really only share with them. And during our conversation, they allowed me to reflect on so many aspects of my trip, giving me the chance to search deeper within myself and how I was affected. At the end of the night, when I was saying good-bye to the Sisters that lasted til the "end of the night," one Sister whispered in my ear, "Your understanding, insight and depth have truly proven the young woman you have become. It's beautiful." 

       As I drove home, I used the time to think about the laughter, the stories and the "growing up" I've shared with these women over the years. They have played such a great part in raising me as a young women, as much as my own family, and I feel so connected in out hearts. These women have graced me with more than they know; they are family. For with who else can one laugh, cry, share, and be so deeply, personal than family? 

       Often, I replace Sister Julian's name with my own in my favorite line from Brede: "Julian was the only one who laughed, but then, Julian obviously felt at home. Sister Julian belongs here." I feel as if I belong, simply by sharing my laughter...both in Jamaica and at home.