B-E-A-U-tiful

"We are all different, too big, too small, too short, too tall. But the beauty of it is that God is still waiting for us anyway."

- S. Natanaela

     My most recent adventures have included a week long intensive course on Beauty and a spur of the moment road trip to Chicago with a nun. Has much changed in my life? Nope. Not at all. While I have been busier than ever in my life, God is still moving in my heart. My course was extremely difficult for me because of many reasons such as the length and intensive nature of the course, as well as the concepts presented. So many times the lectures consisted of various conventions of beauty - how one can label something beautiful. Some presented various definitions of what beauty is, some offered conceptions of beauty and some even gave instances of "real" art versus kitsch. Naturally, I disagreed with most of what was presented because I come from the viewpoint that what is beautiful to me might not be beautiful to someone else. I struggled a lot with the class but the following week of spur of the moment adventures gave me a whole new vantage point of beauty; one that confirmed my own personal beliefs of beauty. 

     My class presented various paintings, images, pieces of art, some literature and even music to us under different lights - good, bad, real, kitsch. I found myself in awe of some beautiful religious paintings while other people thought they were awful. I found certain pieces of music to be beautiful and for others it was painful. On the flip side, some people thought some pieces of music were so outrageously gorgeous while I felt like my ears were bleeding. As a musician, I felt like I had the upper hand. Of course, this isn't meant to be a rant about how much I pretty much hated my class. So I'll steer away from that now. What I want to get across is that what is beautiful to me might not be beautiful to another person. What I find to be the most beautiful things in life, like laughter, sunsets, ripples in the lake, holding hands, and even the faces of those I love, might not be the most beautiful things for others. Of course, for me, beauty is found in the simplest things. I don't need art and music to connect my soul with the divine. I need simply to be made aware by the presence of another soul. 

     My faith in beauty was restored the following week when I found myself driving 13.5 hours to Chicago on a grand adventure. It was a spur of the moment trip with one of my Sisters. I jokingly suggested we go, she jokingly said ok and then eventually we found ourselves traveling at the crack of dawn. She kept saying how hard it was to believe she was there...me, too. Did I really just drive halfway across the country with a nun in my car to go visit more nuns? Yep. Did I love every second of it? Yep. Was I prepared for what the week had in store for me? Absolutely not. 

     When we eventually arrived at the convent, we were greeted so warmly as friends, as sisters. I truly believe that the nuns helped shape me into the person I am today...the person who believes that food is love. I pretty sure every second I wasn't eating, I was asked if I was hungry! But that wasn't the best part; I was also taught how to make some perfect Polish dishes. I cannot wait to try them at home. After we had dinner together with the community, we headed on another adventure. It was during these few days of adventuring all over Illinois, that I had to come up with a paper for my past week's class. In my reflections on beauty I realized some most amazing things. 

      With my sisters, the conventions of beauty do not exist. By this I mean, I barely had to look in the mirror. It didn't matter if I didn't wear make-up, had frizzy hair, or even if I wore the same outfit twice in one week. I looked at my sisters, who in the morning, were just as stinky breathed, frizzy haired, and groggy-eyed as I was. There was no questioning my need for adventure when I jumped in the water fully clothed. It didn't matter how much or how little I ate, how skinny or how fat I was. It didn't matter if my hair stuck out in all the wrong places even though it was in a ponytail. The worldly conventions of beauty did not matter with them and it's not because we were at the convent. Yes, it's true that sisters don't necessarily abide by the worldly conventions of beauty. But the reason I felt so beautiful in my Sisters' presence was because of their radiating beauty. 

      There was beauty in every story they told me about religious life, about their journey to meeting God, about the ups and downs of their day to day life. I found particular beauty in the way they spoke about the hardships they encountered and still experience. I discovered that my Polish sisters are some of the strongest women I know because of all the sacrifices they have made for their vocation. There was beauty in every moment of laughter and trust me, we laughed a lot. I laughed until it hurt. I laughed until I had tears rolling down my cheeks. There was beauty in every Polish accented English word. There was beauty in every search for proper vocabulary. There was beauty in every step we took together or moment we spent. There was even beauty in the silence, too. 

       Many days we visited different holy places, different churches and shrines. In these moments at Mass or in adoration, I prayed so hard. So much was put on my heart, especially in terms of beauty. Religious life is not easy. This is something I have always known. But there is a beauty in it. As Sister David would say, "It's been hard, but I wouldn't change it for the world." I saw the beauty in their deep relationships with God and with one another. I felt beautiful simply by being in their presence. Whether we were walking together, talking together, sitting together, swimming together, whatever, there was beauty. They know that the beautiful is God's creation. The trust in His promise and His endless beauty. There really are no words to describe the feeling of true beauty, except that I know these women are some of the most beautiful women I know. 

       My week was a beautiful retreat in a way, despite it being so full of adventure. I was able to focus so clearly on God this past week. I felt peace and true beauty in being able to be my true self - obnoxious laugh and all. I felt so free in ways indescribable. I felt the love from the Father above and from my Sisters. I felt such immense peace from Jesus. There were many conversations I had that lead me in many reflective ways. Whether it was, "God already knows...you just have to answer," or "I don't think it's a matter of if, but when," I was lead back down the roads from which I have felt distance. I allowed myself to be curious about religious life again and pray like I had once before - freely, openly, with tears, with pain, with happiness. To say this past week was a blessing is an understatement...it was so much more. 

       Toward the end of the week, I found myself entering into conversations I never could have imagined. Conversations that involved me to be so vulnerable and so open with my Sisters. I have kept so much in my heart and pondered my thoughts, but I never spoke them. In my conversations I released some pains, some frustrations but mostly my joys of peace and knowledge of the Lord in my life. My Sisters allowed me to be dramatic at times, laugh and joke, and share my heart. They, in turn, shared their hearts with me. I never expected that such deep, positive relationships could come from this week, but God had different plans. 

      My Sisters opened yet another window to beauty for me. They reminded me that I do not need to be perfect to be loved. They reminded me that the worldly conventions of beauty are impossible and that I am beautiful in my own ways. They reminded me that it's okay to not know what I'm doing with me life, to be afraid, to be scared. But they also reminded me that peace comes from within, from my own relationship with God. Peace doesn't come from making other people happy. Peace and beauty exist when I allow myself to be freely me. They showed me this by their most beautiful example. 

      If I could define beauty, if I could find the right words to even describe this week, I would say, that my Sisters are beauty. They are the pathways to the divine. They are example of service, sacrifice, struggle, and strength. They are my crutch when I need them. They are my best friends. They are my Sisters and I feel so incredibly blessed to have them in my life. They have been examples of joy and peace...what happens when one surrenders to God's will. And at this moment, I feel like saying, "I'm back in the game!" I'm back in touch. I've wiped the dust from my feet. I'm ready to do His will, whatever it may be. Because at this moment, I feel peace, joy, and above all, beauty. True beauty; His beauty. There aren't adequate words to truly and fully describe how God moves the heart. But I can say that His moving in my heart lead me to tears many times this week and that's better than any words. I tried my best, but nothing will ever truly grasp how beautiful God's presence in my life was this week. 

Chosen and Called By Name - Graduation

"Hmmmm, I wanna linger.

Hmmmm, a little longer, 

here with you."

- "Linger" 

Photo Credit: Marianthi Bousses

     It is a day so many wait for anxiously while others wish the day never to arrive only because it means good-bye. For me and most of my friends, Graduation was a day that both excited us and scared us. We were stuck in between crying from pure joy and crying from sadness. After four years of working our tail feathers off, we were finally ready to say, "We did it." Yet, there is always the fear of what the future brings that looms over. However, I found comfort in Isaiah 43:1 : "Fear not; I have called you each by name. You are mine."

     At every commencement there is a speaker. This year, we were blessed to have Ed Herr, President of the Herr's Food Company (you know, the potato chip guy) speak. Having been to the past two graduations at IU, I have heard my share of graduation speeches. However, I can say that Mr. Herr, by a landslide, was my favorite. His theme was "loving people like crazy." He shared many stories of his parents, what they had done, how the company had started, and even some beautiful stories of him and the kids growing up. At the end of each story, he said, "that's how you love people like crazy." I felt that resonate within me so incredibly because truly, I love people and I would go to any length to let each person I love, know that I love them so much. Even yesterday after commencement someone was joking as I shouted I love you to a plethora of nuns, "you love everyone." Yes, I do. But I love each person so uniquely. I remembered as Mr. Herr was speaking that it is my calling - to go forth and set the world on fire with love. 

     I kept thinking all during commencement, as I was surrounded by my family and friends, how I know one thing about my future is certain: I am meant to love and serve the Lord with all my heart and soul. I have no idea where in the world He will call me to, or who I will be with, but I know wherever I go, with whomever I go, it will be for Him. And all of this will be done through love - loving people like crazy. Of course, as I was sitting there thinking about all of this, I had many fears and doubts cross my mind. That's when I remembered Isaiah 43. FEAR NOT. 

      Suddenly, I was getting up from my seat and following the line of students preparing to graduate. As I walked onto the stage, faculty members and sisters were waving and blowing kisses to me as I passed them. I was even paying more attention to Sister Eileen that I almost missed giving Patty Canterino my name card. Suddenly, it was happening, I was being "called by name" across the stage to receive my diploma from Sister Lorraine, the chair of the board of trustees (and also the famous sister in my most recent sister selfie). She shook my hand, I hugged her, and continued my walk across the stage. On the other side were more sisters and professors holding their hands out to me as I passed for high fives. The Sisters were waving as my number one fans and in the background of this all happening, I could hear my family screaming and cheering despite the fact that Sister Jo asked the crowd not to do that. I could hear loud and clear, "I HAVE CALLED YOU BY NAME. YOU ARE MINE." 

      Just as I felt incredibly "chosen and precious" by God during our Baccalaureate Mass, I was feeling, "chosen and called by name" at Graduation. There is no denying that God has called each of us onto bigger and better things. Each of us had our names literally called at Graduation yesterday and there is no coincidence that God was in each of those name readings. Whether we realized it or not, we are all part of God's plan. Somehow He's got the "mess" we call life all figured out. I've got to trust in that. 

     How beautiful it was to see Isaiah 43 put into action during Graduation. I truly felt that there was no need to fear because God literally called me by name that day. I felt the intense feeling of being wholly His as I smiled at all those who had supported me throughout my four years at Immaculata. I felt so incredibly ready to take on the adventure God has planned for me. Even now as I write, I'm excitedly awaiting the rest of my life. Simply thinking about all the amazing things I know God has planned for me excites the fire within. That fire has been burning for a while....and now, it's time to go forth and set the world on fire by loving people like crazy. 

      After commencement, my friends and I gathered on our "back porch" and took a ton of pictures. Of course, I had a bucket list of nuns I needed pictures with. I had some incredibly precious ones of my number one mentors and closest "big sisters." In fact, the not so serious, very candid ones are my favorite. They are the definition of my relationship with these crazy Sisters. While it was easy to see most of the Sisters, since they were all ready outside and willing to be beautifully photogenic, there was one picture that required special access to the VIP section of the cafeteria. With one snapshot, the bucket list was completed. I felt like an incredibly blessed graduation princess. With all the pictures and moments captured, I truly felt God's smiling face looking down on all of us. 

      God has chosen each of us, He has called us by name and He has claimed us as His. Fear not. God is good and I know He has given me a flame inside to go forth and set the world on fire. 

Due Date: December 25th

"You know what the great thing about babies is?

They are like little bundles of hope. Like the future in a basket."

- Lish McBride

Baby Ella
Born: 12/19/2013
2:03 AM 6.2lbs 19.4 inches

     In the past year I have witnessed many families welcome a new baby into the family. My next door neighbor welcomed a little cherub into the family the week of Thanksgiving. My god-daughter celebrated her first year of baby life. Many others celebrated new births in their family, including my friend, Heather. She awaited the birth of her little girl with so much energy, none like I had ever seen. Every day I could look forward to opening Facebook to see a post from a very excited Mama. I felt so blessed to watch her journey of pregnancy bloom into something so beautiful: a lovely baby girl. Ella came a day earlier than expected and I laughed knowing that she's going to go up to be just like her Mama; excited about life and anxious to do anything God asks of her.

     While I clicked through the pictures of baby Ella on facebook, I remembered back to Thanksgiving 2012. The very next day my family got a phone call. Baby Emily was born. A few days later, another phone call, this time asking me to be the godmama of the little cherub. How could I say no? I remembered the excitement surrounding the birth of this baby, number seven in a long line of brothers and sisters. I remembered back even further to when my little sister, Lizzie, was born. I was sitting in the sixth grade classroom with Mrs. Rocco when the secretary got on the loudspeaker to announce that my little sister had been born. I couldn't wait to go see her. It seems that in my life, there is a running theme. Whenever there is a new baby born, immediately the world is notified. Phone calls are made, pictures are taken, text messages are sent, facebook statuses are updated, tweets are tweeted, everyone knows. 

     The birth of Heather's little one reminded me of all the joy surrounding a baby. She was always uploading pictures of her ultrasounds, of her belly and of her favorite little girl quotes. It was easy to catch her energy surrounding her baby that even I found myself counting down the days til Ella's due date. Ella was supposed to be born on a Friday very early, but instead, on the day before her due date, I woke up to pictures of the little one. I actually cried out of excitement that the cherub had finally graced us with her presence. It made me so happy to see the pictures of the angel, mama and daddy. I was beaming with happiness when suddenly it hit me...Jesus. 

     Around this time 2000 some years ago, Mary was anxiously awaiting her little one...while riding a donkey...while traveling to Bethlehem...while not being able to find any room at the inn...while hunkering down in a cave with some farm animals... I find it that often we focus on the poverty and humility of Mary, Joseph and Jesus that we tend to miss the happiness of the birth of the baby. Jesus was born into poverty and by humble means, but not so much on her joy. Father Mooney, at the Spanish Mass on Sunday, the last Sunday of Advent, mentioned this in his homily. He spoke about the joy that surrounds the birth of a baby. 

     We remember what Mary said when the angel came to visit her: "My Soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit REJOICES in God, my Savior." SHE REJOICED! SHE WAS ECSTATIC! Then she went and visited her cousin, Elizabeth. It was then that John the Baptist, the babe within Elizabeth's womb, LEAPT FOR JOY! Like, hey girl, baby's a comin', better get excited. The joy, the happiness, the expectancy of the child of God. I often imagine what Mary was going through in those hours before the birth: pain, desire for the test to be over, and yet, JOY. Tired, exhausted, yet rejoicing at the birth of the babe. 

      While there was no phones with which to call Mary or Joseph's family with the news, no emails to be sent, no tweets tweeted, no facebook statuses updated or even pictures taken, the world still knew of Jesus' birth. The star shone bright in the sky and the shepherds came to adore Him. There was celebration; quiet, humble, beautiful celebration. Jesus was still celebrated, not in the same way as Baby Ella, but with much joy from his parents. 

     Last night, at midnight Mass, I thought once again of Heather, Ryan and Ella. I imagined the beautiful little babe sound asleep and then I looked at the manger where Jesus was laid. I felt a bit of grief for the child who came to save us. This year, His birthday seemingly hasn't been celebrated with great joy. This beautiful birth wasn't marked by selfies with the birthday boy, snap videos of singing happy birthday, shout-out tweets or statuses. The world has seemingly forgot the joy this child brought 2000 some years ago. However, I thought about how many little churches were marking the birth of the child by celebrating Mass. We were celebrating it last night, the same way Mary and Joseph did. He was brought into the world with a quiet, excited joy and that's how he was celebrated last night. 

     While the celebration was small at Midnight Mass, I couldn't help but laugh at the one single baby in the back of church who shouted and clapped his hands throughout the Mass. This kid was celebrating Jesus the same way Heather, Ryan and their families celebrated Ella: WITH GREAT JUBILATION. I smiled and felt in my heart, a kick of joy. Oh hey Jesus, there You are...I felt Jesus in my heart, crying, shouting, like a cutesy little baby. I was reminded that, while as a Parish community, we quietly commemorated the birth of Jesus in the humble style of Mary and Joseph, it was my turn to celebrate Jesus like Heather and Ryan. Perhaps, back then, when Jesus was born, there was no means to proudly celebrate the child (and in truth, they couldn't because of King Herod...). But now, there is such means and I plan on celebrating Jesus loud and proud in the style of Heather, Ryan and Ella: loud, proud and with GUSTO!

      Congrats on your new little one, Heather and Ryan. Know that baby Ella has reminded me once again how I need to celebrate Jesus, the little one. Thank you for letting me witness the beauty of your journey of giving life. Truly, that was my Christmas miracle. 

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. 

Beginning at the End of my Comfort Zone

"We must attract them with joy."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     Lately it seems all I have been doing is things way out of my comfort zone. As I slowly got dressed and ready to go this morning, I kept thinking about how uncomfortable I was about to do something I hadn't done in a while. It was going to be awkward, I just knew it. Going to a place I haven't been in a long time, to talk to people I haven't spoken to in an even longer time was going to be utterly awkward. And so, because I needed to get it out there, I tweeted "All I'm doing is constantly going out of my comfort zone." Within a few seconds, my friend Kathy tweeted back at me : "@nunbetter_BG92 Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. You're #winning. Own it." I knew that was God. 

     I got into the car and drove the ten minutes down the road to a place I used to frequent more when I was much younger. I parked the car and headed straight to the cemetery. If someone was going to help me out, I knew it would be my girl, Sister Thomasita. And so, I stood there (freezing, mind you) and chatted away with my dearheart. You see, she is my reason for coming to the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament Motherhouse. She is the reason I pray. She is the reason I ever started discerning in the first place. And even though I never got to tell her, she knows and she looks out for me as if God specifically told her to be my Guardian Angel. 

      After a few moments with her, I headed to the Chapel where I met Sister Odessa. She greeted me with, "My sister, my little sister, oh my sister you've grown up so much. Get in my arms." This woman is someone I barely know and yet, I know her so well. She is a beautiful woman of God and such a great SBS Sister. I hadn't seen her in over a year and yet, she still welcomed me as if it was only yesterday she saw me. Suddenly, I felt a twang of home in my heart. Soon after we visited Katharine in the Shrine, we headed all throughout the Motherhouse to get to the dining room for lunch. This was going to be the interesting part! 

      We walked in and all I could smell was a Louisiana Kitchen. I suddenly realized why I loved New Orleans so much. I was raised to love it; it's in my spiritual blood. All of the sisters were enjoying some Cajun Jambalaya and Southern Spicy Fish; it seemed perfect! Sr. Odessa and I sat down at a table in the corner and began to enjoy our lunch as we talked about being an educator in today's world. Usually, I'll admit, when I am around new people, or people I do not know well, I'm not much of a talker. The internal me (this is hard to believe for many people...) is actually very quiet, shy and has an intense comfort zone. This was definitely out of my comfort zone, and yet, I was talking much more than I normally would. Before I knew it, a few other sisters I had never known before until today, sat down at our table. Conversation was flowing wildly; I never expected it.

       Like I said, talking about things very personal to me is so hard for me to do even with friends (and they will tell you it's hard to get things out of me...). I wasn't in the least bit shy or quiet or even uncomfortable. In fact, I felt right at home. I felt a love for these sisters I had never felt before in my heart. To make things even better, their President (they don't call her Mother General or Mother Superior) came over just to say hello and wish we well on my upcoming New Orleans trip (I leave Sunday...am I packed? Nope.). I felt so very blessed. 

        As lunch was ending, Sister Odessa had to head to a meeting and so another dearhearted sister lead me out. However, leading me out also meant a stop to her bedroom for a book on the Chapel at Xavier University in New Orleans and another stop in Chapel, where she blessed me and thanked God for my presence (that's actually never, ever, ever happened to me before.). Then, she proceeded to walk me to the car and you will never guess what happened. It started snowing. Just another confirmation from God that I was where I was meant to be at that moment.

       As I drove home, I couldn't help but think of things that had once been so prominent on my heart. From the very beginning of my discernment, I put my foot down saying I wasn't meant to be a Sister of the Blessed Sacrament. I didn't want people to believe I was doing it as a "pay-back" to God for the miracle He gave my Daddy. I wanted people to believe it was God calling me, because it was me not because I was miracle boy's (my family's nickname for him....) daughter. I grew up with them, yes, but I didn't know them like I knew the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth or the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I had no discernment history with them! I love both the CSFN and IHM Charisms and know so much about the work they do. Yet, I know barely a thing about the SBS. I could tell you every CSFN Province in the world and every country the IHMs have been in. Yet, nothing again about the SBS. Of course, every single time I walk into that Chapel, I can only think one thing: Mother walked here. 

       This past Summer, when I found out that the parish we stayed at in New Orleans used to be an SBS mission, I almost cried. The building, apparently used to be the old convent where Mother Katharine herself stayed when she visited. SHE WALKED THE SAME FLOORS I DID!!! How could I have forgotten that she did ministry in NEW ORLEANS?!?! Like honestly, I was kicking myself for forgetting. And then again, when I was in Jamaica in August. Mama K never went there, but given the chance to go international, I think she would have. What was I doing when I was in both places that I realized the spirit of Mama K so deep in my heart? I was ministering to the poor, the abandoned, the homeless all that she herself had done. But the biggest was that I was with the African Americans and Jamaicans. Her ministry was to the Native and African Americans. It all became so clear in my heart and mind. How could I have possibly ruled them out without giving a deeper look into their charisms and spirituality and ministry?!? HOW?!?

      Every time I visit the SBS Motherhouse, I get chills. It's as if Katharine is right there with me. I remember back when I was a Sophomore in High School giving an interview on Katie's Feast Day. The reporter asked me what my relationship with Katharine was like. I answered, "I don't really have one, I don't really know her yet." How right I was. But now that I've been doing the same ministries as Mama K, and literally walking in her foot steps, I am blown away about how much of her spirit I share with her. I am blown away by the chills that run through me when I touch the pews she sat in, when I walk the halls she walked, when I pray next to her. Chills because Mother Katharine lives through me. When I look at the picture above, I can honestly say how familiar she looks to me, like a friend, like a sister. Of course, the more I learn of her life, her humility, her words, I feel closer and closer to Mama K, more than ever before. 

       When I was with the Sisters today, I heard so much about their work in different places throughout the United States. I heard about the joy they spread and as I contributed so much more to the conversation than I thought was ever possible, I felt their joy radiate in my hear. When Sister was walking me to the car, she said something that I will always remember: "We don't see as many vibrant young people like you here. You gave me hope today. Our world needs you because you are like your grandmother (Bea!!) and so much like Katharine. Oh if only she knew you. We need another Katharine, we need you." With a hug and a kiss on the forehead, my newest sister sent me on my way. Somewhere in my day was another confirmation of my path in life. Whether I am meant to follow in Katharine's footsteps even closely or simply always carry her with me, remembering my roots, where this whole thing started, I'm not sure. But God was with me today and He gave me such a beautiful experience. And to think, none of it would have taken place if I didn't step out of my comfort zone!! Thanks God. Thanks Mama K!

How To Survive Convent Life - Lesson #3

"In order for one to survive convent life, one must be willing to sacrifice all one holds dear and play basketball in a skirt."

- Lesson #3

    There is something about opening the door to a place one has called home for years. No matter how long one has been away or how far or even how great the time away was, the warm homecoming feeling is simply overwhelming for both the heart and soul. The feeling I speak about is so freshly imprinted on my heart as I experienced it on Saturday when I visited one of my favorite convents that I had certainly been away from for a while. Let me tell you, however, that this was no ordinary visit.

     A typical visit at this particular convent usually consists of bonding in the community room either by conversation, working on a puzzle or watching a movie. However, on nice days, walks are enjoyed by the lovely view of the ... highway. Yes, and then most times I'm invited to elongate my stay by staying for dinner because the sisters simply do not want me to leave. Whether I'm visiting after morning Mass or for the night, there is always a meal (probably why I love the discernment during a meal). This visit, in the terms of food, was like all the others.

      I was invited during my CREW week, to come over the following Saturday to celebrate a birthday. One of the many things I've noticed in my years of discernment is that the sisters certainly know how to celebrate. So, when I walked in to find the whole kitchen decorated with birthday decor, I was not surprised. I shall three sisters in the kitchen: one watching the stove, one laughing and smiling and one chasing the flies with a fly-swatter. Besides myself in the room, there was one other person: a little boy, who's name was Michael, with the biggest and brightest smile I had ever seen and the best laugh. He was watching fly-swatter sister with the utmost joy. I found myself watching in my quiet way and smiling at all the interaction. I wanted to freeze the moment of joy forever. 

      Within minutes, we were all sitting around the table in the kitchen, with the addition of one other sister (my high school principal), eating the delicious meal prepared by the sisters with the recipe of the little boy's grandmother. "Finally," he said, "my birthday celebration in the convent." With much patience, he had waited three years to have his birthday celebration in the convent. Since he was "finally a teenager," the celebration could happen. Together we dined, we shared stories and we laughed; really, truly laughed. At the end of the meal, like a family does, each of us took our places either by the sink washing or drying, or around the kitchen, putting things away; the little boy included. 

       One of his birthday wishes of the day was to play basketball with the sisters. So, the younger sisters and I myself, began heading out the door to the school gym. However, as it very often happens, I was snagged by my dear high school principal just for a chat. I promised to join the fun as soon as we finished our conversation. That conversation really did change so many perspectives I had of the dear sister. Despite her being my principal for four years, I was never really gifted with the chance to sit and chat with her as if we were old friends. That night I had that opportunity. Now, if this blog post was about that chat, I'd spend more time on it. But, this is a post about birthday parties. So, I quickly hurried over to the gym to play basketball. 

        When I first started discerning religious life, I made the decision that I would do every possible thing in my habit. Playing basketball, while not originally on the list, is now. I had almost forgot I was wearing a dress as I chased the boy and Sister around the gym bouncing the basketball and shooting. I was never much of a good athlete in my younger days, and I wouldn't consider myself one now, but at least I can move in a skirt. Yes, we played and played and played for at least an hour before Sister and I were finally worn out. Our dear boy, however, had so much more energy than both of us combined. So, instead of playing more basketball, he decided we could put on a talent show. 

         While we were shooting hoops, my body embraced the giant, open, floor and pretty much began dancing on its own. While never having taken more than a year of ballet, I remember so much and whenever I get a wide open space, I make use of it. Between hoops, I would spin and jump across the gym. Unbeknownst to me, Michael had seen me dancing and asked me to teach him how to dance for our talent show. So, I showed him some basic cha-cha steps alone, and then showed him how to dance it as a pair. Within minutes, he grasped the concept so well and was ready to perform. 

         After we performed our cha-cha for our audience of one, he asked me if I knew how to sing. I couldn't lie, so I answered yes. I was shocked when he asked me to sing for him. For those who know me, and for those who don't, my voice is my deepest prayer. I love to sing, and yet, I'm very shy about singing for others. Even for Michael, I was being extremely shy. But it was his birthday, and he had been extremely precious all day. So, I did. I got up on the stage that overlooked the gym and sang our favorite Christmas song, "O Holy Night." As I sang, I closed my eyes, floating into my own world surrounded by music, peace and prayer. When I finished, immediately he burst into applause and that's when Sister came over to tell me he told her I gave him goosebumps while singing. He couldn't wait for me to sing another song. So, I sang the Ave Maria for him. 

      By the end of our talent show, it was time to head back to the convent for cake and ice cream, where he then asked me to sing again for the sisters who weren't playing basketball with us. After having done so, one of the sisters put her arm around me and just smiled. No one really knows I have this huge voice held deep inside this little person. When cake and ice cream was over, it was time to take Michael home to his house around the corner. He couldn't stop talking about how he wanted me to sing for his parents, too. And of course, I did. This time, he recorded me singing so he could remember my song forever. 

      Now, I know you are probably wondering, what 13 year old would want to celebrate his birthday at the convent with nuns? Or play basketball with them? Or get goosebumps when I sang? Or remember my song forever? You see, Michael, isn't like most 13 year olds. Doctors have placed Michael somewhere on the autistic spectrum and he goes to a special part of his school for his learning disabilities. However, you really wouldn't notice this right away. He is a genius with a phenomenal vocabulary for a 13 year old. It's the little things about Michael, the things I love, that make him who he is. 

      At the end of the night, Michael had given me such peace. He had brought such joy to my heart and given me self-acceptance. Not only that, but little does he know, he became convent life lesson #3. He showed me that I might just have to play basketball in a skirt with my students. He also showed me that I have to sacrifice and share those things that are so dear to me. By the end of the night, my fears of sharing my voice were gone and I could have easily shared with the whole neighborhood. He showed me by his own special talents and gifts, not to hide my own because they could bring so many others joy, happiness and goosebumps. Happy 13th Birthday, Michael. Thanks for letting me spend the special day with you!! And here's to many more adventures with you, my new friend!

Sorry If I Infect You...Joy?

"Let anyone who comes to you go away feeling better and happier. Everyone should see goodness in your face, in your eyes, in your smile. Joy shows from the eyes, it appears when we speak and walk. It cannot be kept closed inside. It reacts outside. Joy is very infectious."

- Mother Teresa of Calcutta

     Many of you are probably wondering what happened to me? Why haven't I written? Where have I been? Well, here's a few things: I turned into a real college student. I have been busy reading and writing papers. And I've been all over the place, including Chicago. So finally, here I am, half way through February and writing. 

     Technically, I am at work right now. But the phone hasn't rung in about two hours. I think it's safe to say that Fridays are a very quiet night here on the homefront. I was sitting here reading some Mother Teresa (because I'm sitting on the board for Women's History Month planning. Woohoo student advocates!!!!!) when I came across the previously stated quotation. It made me think.

     I've been so busy in the past few weeks, traveling, doing homework, reading and working, that I wonder how many people I've met along my way that have left my presence happier? It made me really reflect on how many smiles I could have shared but didn't because I was running here, there and everywhere. I wondered how many people I didn't infect with my natural Joy. Or how many people I wasn't even joyous to. And then, I decided that I needed to go back to my ways, my roots, my nature. So, I'm making a change.

     Starting right now, despite my business, I am going back to smiling at everyone. No matter if they stop to talk to me or not. I am smiling. If we stop to talk, then I was meant to be there for that person. And if I'm late to something because of it, well, God will work through it. I decided that I will be joyful, no matter how much I have on my plate or how much I've been running. AND I decided that a joyful person needs more sleep. So...I'll be getting to bed for 2 am this week. 

    I'm promising you all right now, that I will infect you. I will spread my happiness all over you. And I hope you all can leave my presence feeling better and happier, just like Mama T suggests I do. And I promise to be back on the blog, keeping up the strain of discernment. I'm working on it. Next week I'll be on retreat, so I'm sure I'll have plenty enough to say for that. 

     Stay tuned for the next few blogs for I will be enticing you with tales of the Flat and Windy City, my Cafeteria adventure, and What It's Like To Be A Chapter Groupie!! God bless!!!