An Open Letter to the Class of 2016

“Before you can live a part of you has to die. You have to let go of what could have been, how you should have acted and what you wish you would have said differently. You have to accept that you can’t change the past experiences, opinions of others at that moment in time or outcomes from their choices or yours. When you finally recognize that truth then you will understand the true meaning of forgiveness of yourself and others. From this point you will finally be free.”  - Shannon Adler 

My students once asked if I ever blog about them. Little do they know that so many of my reflections are inspired by their awesomeness, their amazing desire to dive deeper into a relationship with Jesus and their overall wonderful, beautiful, and contagious personalities. Class of 2016, this one is specifically for you. 

To the Amazing, Beautiful, and Wonderful Class of 2016, 

First let me start by saying, I am astounded every day by your intelligence, your compassion, and your willingness to do that which is asked of you. You take each challenge and not only succeed but rather you go above and beyond. I asked for a mile, you gave me a road trip - a road trip I'll never forget! Sometimes I think - wow, these kids are so much more smarter than I will ever be. And you know what, that's okay. In fact, I'm so proud you're smarter than me. Because when you get out to the real world, you'll pick up where I left off. Thank for being not only smart but crazy about learning and discovering new things. 

You are some of the funniest people I know. I could be having the worst day - no coffee, traffic on the turnpike, everything going wrong - and then I walk into the classroom where 18, 10 or even 2 of you are looking back at me ready to take on the day. One of you starts, then the rest join in. Soon we are laughing much longer than the break allows and we've already lost ten minutes of class. Suddenly my day is turned upside down and I've found my reason for living again. You are always willing to share a smile with me in the hallway as you shout my name. You sometimes think it's funny to shout my name from undisclosed locations and then watch me try to figure out who was calling me. Then from amidst the crowds of students, your smiling face emerges with your cohort of laughing friends. 

You are also some of the most dedicated human beings on this planet. You have shown me that 3am has nothing on you because you're going to get a good grade, make the best retreat number or plan the greatest charity event. You have also told me that the wee hours of the morning when no one else is awake (aside from your 136 classmates) is when you do your best thinking. Maybe that's why you're all smarter than me. The wee hours of the mornings are when you make the best friendships whether it's on the weekend during a heart to heart at a sleepover or you're face-timing your project partner, hoping she's still awake because you just had an eureka moment. I love that about you - you're dedication to your school work but also to each other. 

And speaking of your dedication to each other - you've renewed my sense of self, too. Having gone to a school like yours, I remember making friendships like you have now. Everyday I see you laughing with your friends, I remember my friends. I remember to call them and tell them I love them even though we're half a world away sometimes. You're confidence in yourself and in others in the classroom, on the field or court or on the stage reminds me of the unquenchable desires I had in high school. Knowing you this year has made me remember to go back to chasing my dreams, too. Not that teaching you isn't living the dream, but the other dreams I made for myself. You remind me to do that. 

You are some of the most talented students I know - whether you're running homeruns, singing opera, dancing solo, making baskets, making robots, creating unique images of art, cruising down the river, running or jumping or throwing, writing poems or stories that rip my heart out, singing songs that satisfy the soul, or simply being true to who you are in every which way - you never cease to amaze me by your talent. Sometimes I think, if I ever have my own kids - I hope they are at least half the people you are. You shine brighter than the stars in the Chapel sky. Actually, there are no sun glasses that can protect against your shine it's so bright. I'm so blessed to have been able to bask in those rays. 

And finally, you are some of the most uniturnt people I know. Wow. I never thought Jesus could reach so many hearts. Thank you for sharing the states of your hearts with me on our retreats. Thank you for making retreat the most fulfilling part of my job. Thank you for the laughs and tears we all shared. Thank you for always bringing my favorite snacks, too! Thank you for letting me sleep and allowing me to be a happy princess. Thank you for sharing your truest selves with me - your best selves are your retreat selves. 

A letter to the graduates wouldn't be complete without some advice and so, while it's only been 6 years since I graduated high school, here's what I have for you: 

Branch out - meet people who are so different from you. Have at least one or two non-catholic friends who deeply practice their faith. Share your talents and use them to teach others. Don't stick with just your teammates. Have friends much different from your life experiences. Don't let yourself simply be comfortable. 

Of course, while you're branching out, make sure you call your friends every so often. Send a quick Bitmoji in the grext. Get together on holiday breaks, visit each other at college, and send snail mail. A quick little card to say hi can go a long way. The girls you are friends with now will be your friends forever, not matter how your circumstances change. I can promise you that. 

Let's talk school cafeteria/dining hall/dining hell. It can be the most intimidating place on the planet/college campus. Make sure you find a big table in the caf - a table that can seat all your new friends and then anyone who might look lost. If you find someone who looks a little intimidated by the caf or all alone, invite them to sit with you. If you are that person, don't be too scared to ask if a seat is taken. You might find some of your best friends this way. I did. Don't be afraid of the food choices - they make mom or dad's home-cooking even better. Cafeteria food keeps you humble and makes you grateful. It will probably be terrible but if you have good friends and an inclusive table set-up, it'll be worth it. You'll learn to use your creativity in a whole new way. 

And finally, academics. Chances are, you will be smarter or more able to adapt to the college setting than most of your peers. Don't let that be an excuse to slack off. Stay on top of things and stay sharp. Your teachers will be rather impressed with you. They might even ask you to teach a lesson or two. Don't be embarrassed. Just do it. And if any professor asks you to take any risks like touch a sheep's lung, diagram the Our Father, or perform a monologue, be the first to volunteer. You're professors will fall in love with you and those professors will be the ones who will write you the best recommendation letters for jobs, internships and grad school. So basically be yourself and keep doing what you've been doing for the past four years. And don't forget the tradition of thanking your professor. Once, that's all a professor wrote about in my rec letter - that I thanked him. 

I once heard a priest start a homily by saying - I remember the first time I fell in love. And so I start my last words to you the same way: I remember when I fell in love (not for the first time, but in a whole new way, whole new place). My first memories of the class of 2016 was at the Junior retreat when you all hated me for making you flip a tarp with just your feet. I received a number of half-hearted threats that day from perhaps some of the sassiest people I know. That's when I knew - I was really going to love these girls. And it's true. I fell in love that day. 

I never expected a group of students to change my life the way you did. You challenged me to be a better teacher, a better Campus Minister and a better person. You made me laugh harder than I've ever laughed in front of a group of people. You made me sing. You made me dance. You made me fall more in love with life. I know, for sure, that I will miss you each so much. And I will be praying for you every day of your college career as I watch you all make the world a better place. I'm not sure who will be my rays of sunshine, my smiles and my reason for waking up in the morning - but I know when you come back to visit, I'll be reminded of how much you truly changed my life. 

The truth is, because I knew you, I have been changed for good. Not for the good, but for good - you know, for eternity. 

I love you. BWYFA always <3

Sincerely,

Me

When Nostalgia Hits Hard

"I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes, 

'cause when you showed me myself, I became someone else. 

May God's love be with you always."

- Aron Wright, "In the Sun"

     Last night, I was sitting at the picnic tables outside DC with my younger sister. We were eating Rita's water ice and enjoying the beautiful weather. We were with some other people but the conversation was really mine and my sister's. "I swear we are actually twins. You're the only one who understands my laughs and giggles," Mary said. It's true. My Mommom would also get frustrated whenever the two of us were together. We would laugh so hard, so loud and so ugly and Mommom could never understand why. Tears would fall down our faces, and they still do every time we tell the same stupid stories over and over again. As we laughed and cried last night, one of the Sisters who was with us, tried to understand as we rapid fire told story after story. I'm not sure what she got from our conversation, but I hope it was at least entertaining with her. 

      One of my favorite quotations from the Office is said by Andy: "I wish we knew we were in the good old times when we were in the good old times." When I left campus last night, so many nostalgic memories flooded my mind. I remembered the nickname we had for the people who used to sit at the picnic tables from my Freshmen year and laughed. Last night, we were those people. I remembered memories from campus, from friendships, from traveling and from my family. When nostalgia hits, it hits so hard but it hits so good. 

       My sister is currently experiencing the awesome memory-making campus I was blessed to have four years at. Sometimes, I admit, I live vicariously through her and her friends. I love watching her experiencing things for the first time like course registration, Cisco and the first day of good weather on back campus. I love watching her go through frustrating courses only to come out a stronger and better person. I like watching her make relationships with people I know NOT because she's Becca's sister, but because she is Mary. I love watching her fall in love with the same things I did and get frustrated with the things that frustrated me. But I also love watching her forge her own path. Actually, that's my favorite part. I love hearing the Sisters tell me: she's not much like you. Good for her. Let her be her own self. 

       The best part of my sister being her true self is that it makes our relationship so great. When people tell me they can't stand their brothers or sisters, I have no grounds of understanding that. Mary and I didn't always have the greatest relationship, but as we got older, the closer we became. We developed our own language, our own memories and our own arguments. We have our own trigger words - aka the words that trigger fits of laughter. Words like goose, Blake Shelton and *screech*. We are so close and we keep such good secrets. And every so often, like last night, we let a few people in on those stories and secrets. That's when those people become family.

      When my sister and I are together, we tag team. We make sarcastic comments for everything. We make up stories about strangers. We make up stories about really weird things we see. And we often entertain whoever is around us whether those people are strangers, friends or family. We are always making people laugh. My sister is my best friend and I love that I have her in my life. She is sometimes the only person who makes life worth living. And nights like last night are my favorite nights. Those are the nights that make me so nostalgic. 

      Like I said, as I was driving home, I was still laughing about the stories we didn't share. She was probably in her room laughing, too. These moments get me so nostalgic about the good old times. And yet, I know we are only 19 and 24 years old - we have plenty of good old times ahead of us. Sometimes I really miss the days when we would play kickball in the street, sing at the family parties, or skip school to go to the beach on a windy day. I miss the days when we would go downtown and get hotdogs from the hotdog truck (before Mary hated hotdogs). I miss the days of the long bike rides up and down the canal. And yet, some of the moments I miss the most get re-created every single time we are together. I miss moments that don't even exist yet like weddings, parties, and vacations in the future. 

      Being with my sister makes me so nostalgic for the moments we spent with people who are no longer with us, like my Mommom. Mary makes me nostalgic for memories that we could never have again, like going to Rome (what's up with the bells?!?). But Mary is also the person who gives me the wind in my hair, driving down the expressway with the windows down and belting the words to my favorite song feeling. Mary gives me the feeling of being complete. Mary gives me the feeling every sister should have, best friend, family and worst enemy all tied into one. She's made me who I really am and she's also allowed me to grow comfortable with who I am. Because I know even two years, there's no way I would have laughed my true laugh with Sister last night. 

     When nostalgia hits, it hits hard and it hits so good. Because usually it hits when I'm with my sister. And then I realize how blessed I truly am. 

TBD - A Reflection on Who I Am

"What a life I would've missed, 

if you'd not took a chance.

I wasn't expecting that."

- Jamie Lawson "Wasn't Expecting That"

      I've been struggling to write this post for almost a month and a half. Today is Easter and last night, at the Easter Vigil, I decided I was finally going to write it. So far this year, I've been to a funeral a month. If I wasn't going to be on a service trip with my students this week, I'd be going to another one. At every funeral there is a remembrance for the deceased, whether it comes in the form of poem, eulogy or song. It is during this time that family members and friends, say all the great things about the deceased. What they were like, who they were, what they liked to do, etc. Having been to so many funerals recently, I've been lead on a introspective journey on who I am. Me. Gutherman.
      It's a question I ask every single retreat group: who are you? It's a question I seemingly expect 17 and 18 year olds to answer easily. But heck, as much as I think I know who I am, I do not know. Yet, every time I have my students reflect on the question, I want to know who they think they are. And I go through these periods when I am so confident who I am then others when I have no idea. The past few months, I've been searching and struggling with trying to find my true self again. I feel like I've been lost and it's partly because I lost a huge part of my heart in January. But last night, at the Easter Vigil, I started to feel a glimpse of who I am again. It's like I'm raising again from my own grave of sadness, grief and mourning. Even if I've put on a happy face for the past few months, it's been a struggle. But last night...last night, I felt the earth shake.
       From before I was born, the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament have influenced my life. That is not an exaggeration. My nun obsession started young. At only a few weeks old, I was held dearly by those sisters. They prayed for me, they loved me and they were my earliest faith influences aside from my family. But at this rate, they basically are my family. I have vivid memories of going to the SBS Convent for Christmas Eve Mass, having milk and cookies after. I remember so many moments of visiting with the sisters for many occasions. From the beginning of my faith life, they were some of the biggest influences. I knew this, of course, but I didn't really understand their influence until last night.
      For the past two years, on Easter Vigil, I have had the privilege and honor of singing at the convent for Mass. Last year I was so nervous, but this year I was confident. More confident than I've felt in a long time. And man did it feel amazing to sing again. Not just singing along to the radio or with the choir in church, actually utilizing my vocal training, my breathing, and letting my voice rise to the Heavens in praise of my Jesus. I felt beautiful being able to use my gift for Jesus again. And then we sang some more, using bells and dancing and clapping. We sang the gloria so loud. We sang Alleluia. We sang Hosanna. We danced, we joined hands, and cried out our praise. We, young and old, sisters, lay people, children, parents, priests. I watched the Sisters in the Balcony dance and clap along. With a big smile, I let myself freely worship. And that's when I realized that part of who I am is SBS, African American and Native American spirituality.
      I've always felt a deep connection with the spirituality presented to me by the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament. Of course, I've always felt a deep connection with the Blessed Sacrament, given to me by the Sisters' example. Even the sight of Him in the Blessed Sacrament at Mass brings me to tears. That love of the Eucharist was nourished in me, in High School, by the example of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth. You see, it wasn't out of the ordinary for me to stop in the beautiful Chapel at Nazareth during lunch, study or before/after school and see a Sister there as well. Many times it was Sister David, my mentor, sister and now friend. At other times, I would see the sisters in prayers before supper (yes, I stayed at school that late...poor SMJ). Then I began spending more time with the Sisters, who then were my mentors, who are now some of my closest friends. Then and now we spend time together walking, talking, and praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament. There's no thing like friends sending you a text that says, "I think we need to spend more time with Jesus...when are you free?" or a simple invitation to celebrate Mass together (even if it's a two hour long mass in a foreign language. Whether or not they're on the vocation team, they're constantly checking in on my relationship with Jesus. Of course my relationship with so many of the Sisters, makes it completely normal for them, while passing through my town on Easter Sunday, to follow me in the nun car while I'm out walking my dogs. And to, of course, roll down the windows and yell my name! It's because of them that I have a love for Church tradition and family. They are my family. And part of who I am is CSFN, family-loving, Polish wannabe.
       It's funny how my life, when I look back, seems to fall into place. It's because of a CSFN that I ended up at Immaculate with the IHMs. She encouraged me to branch, live my life and not be afraid to embrace a place that I felt was calling me home. She was the first one I told where I was going to college and was always supportive. Because of her I met the IHMs...and it was about time. Yet another group of faith-filled women who shaped me even more into the young woman that I am and made me a true educator. They showed me a truly sassy side to religious life, gave an even more reality to religious women and living in community. They became mentors during some of the hardest years of my life, became women I could cry with, and teachers who pushed me to be the best student (and teacher) I could be. They employed me, trusted me and gave me so many opportunities. They tested me many times: as I told one student, "You'll be a better person because she's reprimanding you right now." But most importantly, they were the faith family for four years of my life. They were the ones who opened their arms when I joined them for Mass every single day, prayed with them, sang with them, and developed a deeper relationship with Jesus because of them. Of course, I can't forget how they instilled a love in my heart for the immigrant, for the refugee and for Peru. I always wanted to be a teacher, but they showed me how - by example and by opportunity. Who I am is part IHM, educator, vocalist, and lover of creative hope.
       Just like how one CSFN led me to Immaculate, one IHM taught me everything I needed to know for my current job. Without every opportunity she gave me on my resume, there's no way I could have made it this far as a Campus Minister. Without her, I wouldn't know how to run a retreat, teacher girls to pray, when to love tough and when to give tough love, or how to stay organized in an office full of chaos. Without her, I never would have met the SSJs who share my love for Social Justice. Well, really it's a burning passion. I never knew that when I insisted on taking French for four years in High School that I would learn and teach with a community with French roots. They, too, have pushed me to be a better me, become friends and sisters, and given me the opportunity of a life time -to do what I have always really desired - bring young women to Jesus. It's because of them that I get to spend a week with my students serving the dear neighbor - doing what I spent most of my college time doing. And so truly, part of me is SSJ, servant to the dear neighbor, preacher of social justice.
        I could easily stop there but truly I'm a Heinz 57 of religious communities. I could say part of who I am is Franciscan: barefoot, one with the earth, lover of nature - creating life with Mother Earth. I could say part of me is Carmelite, the contemplative piece of me who would rather sit in silence with Jessica Powers, St. Teresa of Avila or St. Therese. And I could say part of me is even Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters (Pink Sisters) because of my love for adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, for I could spend hours in adoration of my Jesus.
       So who am I? It's a question I've been grappling with for a few months. I'm an Irish girl, with a German last name and Italian heritage. I love food, eating it, making it, giving it. I love making things with my hands, creating art and giving life to ideas and concepts. I love being in the garden, planting, having dirt in my hands and speaking to the plants. I love walking or sitting by the river, breathing in the fresh (?) air of the Delaware. I love driving in the car for long hours in silence or with music on. I love sitting by the fire, singing, roasting marshmallows or praying, yes, praying. I love laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I love hugs - long, cuddly, embraces that make me feel safe and loved. I love singing so loud and strong that by the end of my jam session or Mass, I've lost my voice. I love playing games, dancing for no reason or every reason at all and I love spending time in silence with people. I love reading - cheesy romance novels or the lives of the saints (which sometimes are cheesy romance novels). I love writing, going to diners, spending hours talking with people who were first mentors, then friends, and always sisters. I love telling stories, listening to stories and being part of stories. I love loving deep and strong and hard. I'm from Croydon so I'm tough, but I also know that the greatest thing we have in this world is each other. And most of all, I love being with my family, whether they share my last name, my bloodline, or my faith. Who I am is all of this and yet more to be discovered. Who I am is all I am and all I am not. But I am she who dances and claps in church, who loves too fiercely and lives for each moment and each memory. All this from one song and dance with my Sisters: Hosanna! Blessed be the rock, blessed be the rock of my Salvation!

Always A Daddy's Girl

"A Daddy holds pictures of his daughters in his wallet 

where his money used to be."

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived and let me watch him do it."

-Clarence Budington Kelland

     This morning's Gospel was about Jesus telling the little ones to come to Him. Our homilist today spoke about how God loves when we act as children (not childish...) because children are so easy to love. In listening to the Gospel, I reflected back to a question sparked in one of my Theology classes my Freshmen year of College. Sister asked the class to imagine God as Daddy...not Father, but Daddy. She told us to imagine what He would look like, smell like, feel like, act like. I remember sharing with the class that my God as "Daddy" had a bristly beard and sat on the sofa after a long day of work. He would smell like oil and machinery, and wear a dark, plaid shirt that was soft from wear. He would probably have some stains on his pants, too, from work. But the best part of my God as "Daddy" was curling up on his lap and sticking my head in the crook of his neck while we napped and watched the news before dinner. I felt safe there and protected; nothing was going to hurt me. In response, Sister said, "Well that description is so good, either because you're an English major OR you've had that experience." Without realizing it, I had described a typical day with my earthly Daddy when I was younger. Yes my God as "Daddy" was exactly like my earthly Daddy. Which totally explains why I've always been a "Daddy's Girl" in both ways. 

       Last week, my daddy took off from work to spend a week's vacation with his three "little" girls. Every morning, after I would come home from Mass, we'd take off, headed for a new adventure. Whether we were going to Roadside America in the middle of no where Pennsylvania or traipsing through North Philadelphia just to find the "World's Largest Cellophaned  Piece of Apple Pie," it was a new adventure. My dad was always one to "wander." He has a gypsy soul and always had dream of sailing around the world, navigating by the stars. I love that about him. I guess that's where I get my desire for adventure and my own gypsy soul. I get my deep faith from my daddy, and my undying, obnoxious and rambunctious laughter from him, too. I get my quiet peace (occasionally) from him but what I really get from him, is his simplicity.

       "You're like a Sunday morning, full of grace and full of Jesus. I wish I could be more like you," I wish I could say to him, because it's true. He's the most humble man I know, and the most selfless. (I knew I was going to cry while writing this....) If anyone asks me about my daddy, I instantly go off talking about how much I love him. I talk about how is my best friend, and that without him, I don't know where I would be. I really do love my daddy so much because of all he selflessly does for me. He works twelve hours a day, five days a week just so he can put me and my sisters through CATHOLIC school. He comes home from those twelve hour shifts and cooks dinner for us kids. He drives out to school just to see me on a Sunday night at Mass. He'll mail me stupid things on crazy holidays just so I get mail (because I love mail). He does everything for me and so much more. I cry when I think of his humility, his simplicity and his gentleness. I love my daddy so much.

        This post can never do my dad any justice, but he is my biggest hero. I love him with all my heart. I want him to be there to walk me down the aisle when I make vows. I want him to bake my vow cake. I want him to dance with me at the after party I'm planning. I want him to be with me everywhere I go. And my deepest prayer is that he grows to be really, really, really, really old so I never have to let him go. I love you, Daddy. I can't thank you enough for everything, the sacrifices, the laughter, the love and the faith. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful Daddy. 

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.