Sure, Knock Your Socks Off - Peruvian Adventure Part Two

"I can understand these people better, now I know."

 - Brooks Jenkins, "Loneliness"

     We thought the saying was long gone, and so did the sisters here in Peru. But then Madrecita said it. It must be a Nebraska thing we all said and she laughed. Knock your socks off, a phrase that was once so common and has seemingly passed to the wayside has become our new catch phrase. Can we do this? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we do that? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we eat this? Sure, knock your socks off. Needless to say, my socks have been knocked off quite a lot. 

     I know from all the pictures it seems that there is all fun and no work. Well, let me be frank: when you love what you do, it cannot nearly be considered work. The truth is, the sisters have been trying to hard to give us a Peruvian Culture crash course in the past few days. We were only in school two days last week since we arrived in the middle of the week, and our schedule has been crazy ever since. However, we are not aware of our schedules until the moment before something is about to happen. We got home early? Okay, let us do this and this and this and maybe that, too. We have been working super hard in the school as teachers, but we have also been experiencing everything under the sun. DISCLAIMER: I do not usually take pictures at work ;)

     On Saturday, we attended what we in the states would call a Carnival. In Peru, it is called a Kermesse. There were rides and food and lots of entertainment. The Kermesse was not just any old carnival though, it was a fundraiser for another IHM School. So, our being there benefitted the school. We were able to grab a bite of a Bembos Burger (since it WAS Memorial Day weekend) and walk around the grounds of the Villa Maria school. In the background were picturesque mountains piled high. It was like walking in a dream. 

     That night, when we got back from the Kermesse, we had plenty of time to knock our socks off. So, we headed into town to Santa Rosa of Lima and the Lord of the Miracles. We took a new bus which, of course yielded tons of new adventures. I love riding the bus with Sister Regina, a woman of exploration, because she truly has so much knowledge about the world of Peru. She always has a story to tell and I quite honestly, absolutely, positively LOVE it. The Shrine of St. Rose of Lima was simply beautiful. There is a tradition based on the story that she locked a belt around her waist and then through the key in the well so no one could ever open it. This tradition is that pilgrims from all over come and throw their wishes or prayer intentions in the well. Of course, we did it. We also had the chance to pray in the church (after Mass was over and we were done getting reprimanded by the Spanish Dominicans....). Immediately, when I knelt down on the wooden kneelers (no comforting pillows or anything, just wood), I was brought to tears. St Rose had touched my heart in such a way that I cannot even explain. I was still praying when the other girls and Sister left the Chapel and apparently, according to Sister, I was praying my little heart out. Down the block, we also we able to visit the Lord of the Miracles. I am not too familiar with the story but apparently it is an image of Jesus that has never been able to be knocked down. Quite impressive if you ask me! Our Saturday was packed full of adventure and I am so very, very blessed!

     The next day, we headed to Mass down the street in the ovulo. The ovulo is like those pain in the butt jug handles or circles they have in New Jersey, but instead of just being road, there are so many stores and parks and everything under the sun in the ovulo. Our ovulo has a church which is very simple and yet beautiful. Everything was in Spanish (shocker) but the music truly warmed my heart. I think that is what I miss the most about being here; being able to sing along to the music. After Mass, we had a light breakfast and then headed out the door to Montenegro. Once again, we found ourselves at something like a Carnival. It was not as big as a Kermesse and was called Bingo. It reminded me of an Ice Cream Social and Basket Auction. There were three other students and two sisters from IU, including my dear Sister Cathy, staying in Montenegro doing some nursing work. They had been testing the students for malnutrition and what a culture shock they had each experienced. It was so good to see familiar American faces running toward us across the patio. There, we were able to help with the Tombola and the selling of Hot Dogs, Aqua and Chorizos. In the Tombola, we had a crash course in Spanish numbers. Yeah, that was a bit confusing. Then, when selling the food and drinks, we had to be able to not only understand the Spanish but to be good in Math, too. After about five minutes, we had the hang of things and quite honestly, it has been one of my favorite memories so far. 

     Montenegro is so deeply a part of my heart. The amount of obvious poverty is astounding and if it had not been for my previous experiences in working with the poor, I, too, would have experienced the culture shock my peers were experiencing. The people of that city, if you could call it that, are so gentle, simple and kind. Regardless of my lack of Spanish, they accepted me and loved me. Children I would say hola to would simply run into my arms for a hug and a kiss. Mothers and Fathers would smile and try to have a conversation with me. And the sisters, they were so happy. Being in Montenegro reiterated two things greatly in my heart: first, that I am meant to work with the poor and second, that true happiness is not in the amount of things you have but rather the amount of love which you give. I felt the happiest simply sitting with my friends in Montenegro helping at the Bingo than anywhere else that far. I know I am meant to work with the poor. 

     Monday we were headed back to Colegio San Antonio to get back in the classrooms. Two days in this week and I feel at home, with the sisters, the faculty and the students. Especially the students. We had more introductory classes yesterday since I meant some new students but today I did some teaching and I was happier than ever. It was another reiteration that I am meant to be a high school teacher. My girls are so good to me and I feel so blessed to teach them and laugh with them. Every morning I am greeted with hugs and kisses as per the culture down here and I would not trade it for the world. Tomorrow, my teacher has asked me to read to the girls so that they can hear the correct pronounciation of English words. I am so glad professor Mooney prepared me so well in my Literature class with Edgar Allan Poe, because I am reading to them The Fall of the House of Usher. What I have seen with the girls, and all the students really, is that they are eager to learn. I love their energy; it truly invigorates me. They speak English so well, some of them, while others struggle. However, I love my job here. It is so freeing and beautiful.

     In a lot of my personal reflections, I have thought about my duty to serve the poor and my fulfillment of Gods mission for me. There are a few things that are confirmations to me that I am exactly where I need to be at this present moment in time: snow (which we will never see here), sunflowers (which I am seeing constantly) and the Infant of Prague (which Sister Antonietta and I spoke about so wonderfully tonight). I have been recieving so many confirmations from God that right now, I am meant to be in Peru working with the people here, teaching them English. I am reminded every day of my blessings and the gifts I have been given. This place is changing me, as they promised it would. It is not changing me in a way in which I am different, but rather that I am being stretched. I am being stretched to see how much I truly believe God is loving through me. If I could sum up my experiences so far it would be to say: this is what happens when one truly, whole-heartedly and unreservedly gives herself to God - she experiences a peace of mind and heart like never before. And that, my friends, is what I am experiencing: a whole new peace. 

     One final aspect of this experience that I must elaborate on is living in community with the sisters. While I have done this many times before, I have never done so for such a long period of time. Already I believe the sisters know me. I have gotten to know each of the sisters in a different aspect. Sister Regina shares her stories simply on the bus. Sister Lisa and I share the Mass together. Sister Eileen stopped me in the kitchenette today just to tell me how obvious it is that I know Gods hand is in every aspect of my life and that she is always praying for me. Sister Antonietta shares my devotion to the Infant. Sister Angélica shares my gift for laughter. Sister Marie shares my deep devotion to loving the poor. And Sister Nelida, well she shares our youth. Getting to know the sisters has been such an experience. Just a little sidenote, not one of them, unless someone told them, knows that I am discerning a vocation to religious life. However, I think they are catching on to my secret. Sister Antonietta asked me after I mentioned that the Infant of Prague is the patron of those discerning vocations, and I said, well maybe, sister. Of course, soon after Sister Eileen caught me in the kitchenette and was telling me how much she is praying for me, because what I want to do is harder now than it was in her youth. Did she overhear me say something to Sister Antonietta, I do not know. But I have been told that even if I never utter a word about it, it is so obvious that my only desire is to do Gods will and love Him whole-heartedly for the rest of my life. And while I could easily do that as a married woman, I know that He is asking a little bit more of me. Let us see, if by the end of the month, they know. 

In The Arms of Angels - Camden, Alternate Spring Break 2013

"Let us open wide our hearts. It is joy which invites us.

Press forward and fear nothing."

- St. Katharine Drexel

     "What are you doing for Spring Break?" It was the question on everyone's lips. Some were traveling to NOLA, my favorite city in the world. Others were traveling to Chicago, my home away from home. Still others were headed home to their respective cities and towns. Me? Well, I was more than excited to be headed to Camden, New Jersey for the weekend. 

     Imagine my parents' reactions when I neglected to tell them exactly where I was going on Alternate Spring Break until I was already settled in with my six other lovely lady peers, Father Chris and Sister Cathy. I simply just texted my Daddy a picture of the quotation from Katharine Drexel that was on my bedroom wall in Camden. Needless to say, he didn't respond via text message but rather by phone call. What are you doing there? Are you staying? Who are you with? Are you asking for a death wish? Are you serious? Camden of all places? What are you thinking? Yes...my Dad had a little bit of a freak out session. "Relax, Dad," I told him, "we haven't heard any gun shots yet." That didn't help much...obviously. But I reassured him that I would be fine and God was watching over me. If I was meant to be scared, I would have freaked out already. And I didn't. 

      Camden is rated the 1st poorest city in the United States. Not only is it poor but it has the highest crime rate per capita in the US, this includes murder and homicides. Almost half of the city is dependent on drugs. Surprisingly enough an elementary student can make up to $200 a week just by being a drug outlook for dealers. This being said, the drop-out rate for high schoolers is 60-70%. Oh and the average income for a family of four? $18,000. Get this....the entire NINE-SQUARE MILE city of Camden has 80,000 people "living" in it. I say "living" because do you really think sleeping on the street in a wet sleeping bag every night is living? 

     So, needless to say, my Dad had a right reason to be worried about me in a city like Camden. Camden is a city for me that I can see right across the river when I'm home. And while I was in Camden, the skyline of Philly was looming over us as a constant reminder that this is the Calcutta of the United States. However, there wasn't a single second I felt fearful of this city, I had long ago learned to love. 

     They had asked us at the beginning if anyone in our group had been in Camden before, aside from being there for a concert or a visit to the aquarium. Two of us. I spent one day during my summer three years ago gardening with a group of my CREW girls. I saw that Garden this weekend; it still looked good. I spent another day during my summer two years ago painting over graffiti. I saw those murals this weekend...and I painted the same exact spot on the same exact wall I did two years ago. Our murals are still there though. I remember the first time I walked through Camden. I thought to myself, this is what hell looks like. So many imagine hell as place of fire and heat. But Camden, oh no..that's what hell looks like: broken houses, so much poverty it makes you sick, the smell of trash for miles, children running around with no clothes on because no one loves them, and needle after needle after needle, the used-to-be source of drug lovin'. Oh and the skin and bones of people who haven't eaten anything nutritious perhaps their whole lives. There's no love, no hope, no sunshine. That's hell. 

      Yet, it's a hell that didn't scare me. I felt like Orpheus. If I could go into that hell and pull just one person out of it, if I could make someone my Eurydice, I would. That's what keeps me going back. (The story of Opheus and Eurydice is simple. E dies and goes to the underworld. O goes down and pulls her out, saving her and bringing her back to life.) Like I said before, I was excited to be going back to the streets of Camden. I was excited to be meeting people, or as I call them, "New Friends." I was excited to open a window to a world that most people don't know about. 

      We arrived after sundown and as we unpacked our car, a group of young men walked by. My friends were standing on the front porch as I stood in the middle of the street waiting for father to turn around the school van. We didn't want anyone taking the perfect parking spot. When I turned around, I saw the young men and joyfully waved and said hello. I could see the eyes of my friends bug out of their faces. What? I shrugged. It seemed so late, but the night was still young. After a first night of making spaghetti for dinner, a few of us headed to the Joseph's House. 

       Joseph's House is a unique and humbling place. Located in an old Lutheran Church, volunteers set up and cook dinner for about forty regular homeless people. These people come with all they have and set up camp on the floor of the church. It is literally exactly how the would sleep outside but with heat, a warm meal and the opportunity for showers. The first night there, there were a plethora of volunteers already there and so we went home, a bit saddened that we couldn't do much to help. We went back to the place we called home for four days and watched one of the most heart-wrenching documentaries on the children of Camden. As someone who wants to be a teacher, I can tell you it hit so very close to home. 

      The next morning, we were up and at 'em, ready to help out at the Holy Name Confirmation Retreat. But first we got to make fruit salad for the Joseph's House with the Freshmen Students from the Cristo Rey High School in Philadelphia (I was so totally hype because teaching there would be a dream come true....). I made some new (and crazy) friends among the students and easily assumed the role of their older sister. When they were leaving, I was blessed with numerous hugs from all of them. With the Confirmation retreatants, we put on Gospel skits which was a feat for sure. There for four boys and one girl in our group...thankfully, we were blessed with the Gospel of the Prodigal Son. We then had to have a slightly silent Puerto Rican lunch since we were sharing our space with another group. It was soooooo hard! After making so many new friends, it was super hard to keep quiet with these overly-eager beavers. I love them all so much!

       Once the retreat was over, we were blessed to hear the real story of Kenny, a homeless man who lives in Camden. He truly invoked so much conversation and gave us so much insight. He gave us a chance to truly express our feelings for the homeless and what we wanted to bring back to our homes. It was such a beautiful chance for us to share as a group, as individuals and as ourselves. I saw the hearts of so many so open and willing to go the extra mile for people. It was so beautiful!

      That night we had homemade dinner take two. The first night Lindsey and I cooked dinner and very casually Sister Cathy asked if we would let anyone else cook during the weekend. Well, the next night there she was all precious in her apron cooking crayon chicken nuggets, mac and cheese and broccoli with the two of us, while setting the others to fruit salad making and whatnot. We young ladies had a nice lesson in Convent Etiquette 101, lesson: how to peel an orange. Sister Cathy is a trooper for putting up with all the young lady sass this weekend....it didn't end there. 

      After our meal, a few of us headed out again to Joseph's House. That night, I met my friend Archie who looks like an African American Santa Claus and his friend, "Santa." These men shocked and surprised me with their wit, their playful bantering back and forth and extreme knowledge. These men shared their dreams with me and asked me about my dreams. I went to bed that night feeling so overly blessed for gaining two more grandfathers here on earth. 

     The next morning, we were once again up and at 'em ready to help out with CCD classes before going to a Spanish Mass. The truth is, I love kids so much, which is why I have always wanted to be an educator. My dreams as an educator include, but are not limited to, making sure my students know they are loved, knowing that I care about their dreams and their lives, and being able to communicate that to them. The hardest obstacle was communicating with those students that morning. I was silenced literally because most of the students did not speak English and I did not speak Spanish. I tried, but I failed admittedly. I couldn't do it and from that I learned that I need to try my hardest to become bi-lingual. Especially if I want to fulfill my dream of teaching inner city kids. I prayed for all those CCD kids at Mass and I prayed that God would give me the strength to learn another language...soon. Mass, of course, was beautiful. I was blessed enough to sit next to Sister who just happens to be fluent in Spanish and has a beautiful voice. Yes, it truly was a blessing.

     After Mass, we quickly changed into painting gear and headed to North Camden to paint those same exact walls I had painted before. I was literally painting the same exact block of wall I had painted before. It was like a time-travel and it was awesome. Of course, we had to paint with the wind off the waterfront at our backs. It only gave us a more solid understanding of what the homeless had to deal with every day. They never get the chance to go inside a warm home or a warm car. They are outside all the long day, in the cold, with much less than we all had on. I felt the sting of homelessness right there in my heart. I'm not sure what the others got from our experience in the cold, but that was the truth resonating in my heart. Later that night, after cooking again with the whole IU family, we headed out to Joseph's House for a last night with the homeless. When we were leaving, "Santa" and Archie broke my heart by asking if I would be back there again the next night. Oh how I wanted to be there. 

     Monday, our last day consisted of sandwich ministry and recess with the kids. When I woke up this morning, I was so sore. I didn't understand why until I remembered I lifted 10 pound bags and chased kids for an hour. In the sandwich ministry we literally fed some many homeless people sandwiches and made up bags of canned goods for them. What a sight to behold to see a line of people waiting for their first meal in what may have been a long time. At school we ate with the same kids and the peers of the kids we helped on Saturday at retreat. These children are super precious. We played tag for an hour and I've literally never been that out of breath. However, chasing those kids around in tag was the best. I miss that being at school, I miss being able to go over to the grade school and be lunch mom. It was so hard for me to leave those kids.

      As we rode home that day, I couldn't stop reflecting on those kids and their smiles, their beautiful innocent smiles. I love them all so much. I wanted nothing more than to preserve their innocence and let them keep it forever. But I know that in a city like Camden, they would lose that innocence most likely before they even left grade school. My heart ached and broke for them. I will forever remember their smiles and their hugs and innocence. But they aren't the only ones. I found myself in the arms of angels this weekend. Angels whose faces were those who greeted the homeless, angels whose faces were the poor and homeless, angels whose faces were children, angels whose faces were people just needing love. In each hug, I felt myself truly in the arms of angels and I can only hope they each left my presence feeling the same; in the safe haven of an angel's arms. 

Fruit Salad...yummy, yummy

Enough said

Painting the walls.....

Painting Sister....

Sandwich Ministry Time

My Cristo Rey lovebugs <3

Angels Among Us: A Summary

"I believe there are angels among us,

Sent down to us from somewhere up above.

They come to you and me in our darkest hours

to show us how to live, to teach us how to give

and to guide us with the light of love."

- "Angels Among Us," Alabama

The Smiles Say It All

     I had finally gotten a power tool in my hands when all of a sudden (it seemed) it was time to head on out for the day. While I was teaching my RA, Caiti, how to use a power screw driver to screw screws into what would eventually be a dog house, the rest of our group was filling out evaluations; it was our last day on the worksite. I had spent most of the days mudding/spackling the walls of Miss Sande's living room, bedrooms, kitchen and closets. Trust me, it's tedious work. And actually, it's quite a pain in the butt...especially when they tell the short girl to mud/spackle the ceiling. I can't tell you how many times I dropped mud on my face, in my hair, on my clothing. I felt absolutely disgusting afterward and my body ached from reaching high and bending backwards to float, skim and doctor the ceilings and walls. However, as we sat as a group on Miss Sande's back porch filling out evaluations and listening to our site leaders, it all came together for me.

    I have never been on the NOLA January trip. In fact, I will honestly say, I like NOLA in the Summer better because of the weather. I'm not about this cold weather in the South nonsense. Going on this trip was completely out of my comfort zone because even though I knew everyone, I didn't know anyone. It was going to be a completely different trip than what I was used to: nights were longer, sun was weaker, schedule was crazier. Yet, I felt this strange whisper in my heart that kept saying, "Go, go, go, go back to the place you love so much." And so I applied and then got accepted. Ironically enough, a few weeks later, I got accepted for the Peru Service Trip which would most likely take place during the same time as the May NOLA trip. I understood that God understood my desire to go to NOLA at least once a year. However, even as I pulled up to the airport, I was questioning the reasons why God was sending me to NOLA at this time.

    I felt I was jipping my sisters of my Christmas Break time. I felt like I didn't belong with the people and friends in our Work Crew. I felt so out of my comfort zone. Yet, this is the life I so desire. I desire to be a missionary and leave home. I desire to work with strangers. I desire to go out of my comfort zone. But even still, I was doubting God working in my life through this trip. So, as I sat on the plane, I closed my eyes and prayed: God, keep my heart open to Your will. As I nodded off to sleep, God began opening my heart.

    As we visited the French Quarter, I saw monuments and attractions all so familiar. I almost had no desire to be there. Instead, I was wanting so badly to be in my work clothes and building. But, it was New Year's Eve and so, every worksite was closed for the day. So, we found ourselves doing to the same activities in the Quarter, that I had done two times prior. I shopped a little and continued to doubt God's work. 

   This doubt continued through Mass at St. Louis Cathedral, through priming a shotgun house in a pretty bad neighborhood, to building boxes at Second Harvest Food Bank, to serving the homeless and hungry dinner at the New Orleans Mission, to even mudding the walls and ceilings of Miss Sande's house. Why was I here? I kept thinking. I was seeing no change; no change in the people and no change in me. I found myself spending a lot of personal quiet time on the worksite, at our other volunteer opportunities and even while we were back at the house. I was seeking for an answer. At the end of the week, I had almost given up and I had stopped searching for a reason why I was there. And when I stopped searching, God gave me the reason.

    Go back to the image of us all sitting on Miss Sande's back porch. We had filled out the evaluations, we had listed our highs and lows of the week with our leaders Megan and Cait, and given out some thank you gifts to them as well. We had one final gift to give and that was to Miss Sande. It was a Mardi Gras Bead Art image of the Immaculata School Symbol which we had all signed. As we handed her the frame, she immediately began on a Miss Sande Story. 

      Throughout the week we had each heard various Miss Sande Stories and other mentions of her wisdom. We had each been able to piece together her story of suffering, rebirth and how she came to have her house a part of the St. Bernard Project. But this story was different than any other Miss Sande story; this story was about angels. 

      As she spoke, Miss Sande referred to all of us as her angels. She told us how without God's Angels coming to work on her house, her house would still be non-existent in the Post-Katrina era. She kept calling us her angels over and over and over again. And each time she did, the lump in my throat got bigger and bigger until finally, I let the tears roll down my cheeks. I got it. I understood. God sent me there to meet Miss Sande. Little does she know that she was an angel to me. She was God for me. 

     All my life, all I have ever wanted to do was help change lives. When I was younger I thought that there were so many people in our world that needed me. But as I got older, I realized, there are so many people in our world that I need. I needed Miss Sande more than she needed me. So what I put a little mud on her walls and helped build her six dogs an outdoor living space. Miss Sande helped me realize that the little bit I did, helped. Without the mud and spackle, no paint could go up. Yes that's true! 

     A few years ago, I stopped looking to change the whole world. I narrowed my goal down to change a few lives. But this week, I made a complete turn around. I started looking for people to change my life! Yes, I did help Miss Sande and yes, this past week I was an angel for her. But more than I was for her, she was for me. She was the angel I needed in my life. She reminded me that I don't need all the things in the world to be happy. She reminded me that my little hands could get roughed up and change a life. But mostly she reminded me that although I may doubt God's mission for me, He is always working through me...whether it's my hands, my heart or my smile. She reminded me of something that I so often neglect to believe in, something that I am always telling others but never telling myself: Miss Sande reminded me of my own goodness. She reminded me that I can actually be an angel. Miss Sande, in being an angel herself, reminded me of the same. And so, this NOLA trip, angels united. 

     I can't thank Miss Sande enough for breaking through to my heart...for being willing enough to risk that journey! She is a beautiful woman of God! Yes, there are angels among us! I am home now, but no matter where we are, there are angels among us.