The Mystery of Motherhood

"Sometimes when you pick your child up, you can feel the map of your own bones

beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of her neck. This

is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood - finding a piece of yourself separate and

apart that all the same you could not live without."

- Jodi Picoult

     Last night, right before we were getting ready to turn off the lights and hit the hay, my husband said, "I could just stare at her all day and night; it's amazing. We helped create her." Every day, I feel like I spend hours just staring at our baby and thinking the same thing. Neither of us have said it out loud to each other before until last night. But let me assure you, I think about it every day - the mystery of this child. 

     For those who have followed this blog, you may have realized that I took a few months hiatus. Surprise, we had a baby. She has taken up every ounce of our extra time and we could not be any more blessed and grateful to our God for this gift. Right now, she is sound asleep in my lap and I keep taking breaks from thinking and typing to stare at her. She is beautiful, amazing, already so smart, incredible and such a gift. My heart swells with each moment I stare at her, interact with her and snuggle her. How did I get chosen to be this little one's mother? 

    I am grateful for my time off to be spent with her. In these days we have together we have spent many hours visiting with friends and family; especially with other new mommy friends and the many, many sisters we know and love. Sometimes this means we experience a few hours in the car together during the week. I used to love blasting music as I drove - it kept me calm while I was surrounded by maniac drivers. But now, I leave the radio off and silent, just so I can listen to her breathing and take many glances in the rear view just to watch her look around in wonder or her eyes fluttering as she sleeps. And in those moments, I can only pray "Oh my God, she is a miracle and so incredibly fascinating."

      These drives allow me much time to contemplate the great mystery of life's creation. Someone gave us a picture frame as a gift that says, "All because two people fell in love." While this is true, it is only half the story. We have kept her ultrasound pictures up on the fridge - every single one from the very first peanut looking ultrasound to her last 3D image that looks just like her (I mean duh...but like also, WOW). Each time I look at those, I think about her stages of development in the womb.  I think about how she had a heartbeat before I even knew she existed. I think about how she could hear our voices in the womb and how she shows she recognizes them now, outside the womb. I think about how we quite literally watched her grow with each picture and how we watched her move when we had those ultrasounds. I think about how every week for the last two months I got to hear her heartbeat for an hour; I didn't mind being hooked up to those monitors then. 

     And now, I look at her eyes and her cheeks and her lips and I think about how all that came from something so incredibly tiny; how we all came from that. And as much as biology could explain it, I know that there's more to it than just a fertilized egg that grew into a human baby outside the womb. God had his hands in this from every moment of her life. It was just because two people fell in love; she's here because two people fell in love with each other AND God's divine plan for our life- whatever that may turn out to be. She is a miracle because she exists and every moment, when I get to truly think about it, I remember her kicks from when she was in my womb and now I watch her kick so fiercely during tummy time. I watch her sleep with her hands by her face, just like how she appeared in every ultrasound. She was all snuggled up in the womb and she still turtles up when she snuggles on her daddy's chest. How did she have so much personality before she was even born? I cannot deny, even if I wanted to, that her life was so real before she was born. 

      We were lucky enough to have a dream birth experience with her, surrounded by great nurses and doctors. This little girl made her delivery a beautiful experience of creation. I still think, how did that happen to the three of us? How did we get so blessed to experience God's handiwork in action like we did?  When I recount those minuscule details of the day - how she started to alert of us of her arrival at 3am (and how she still, without fail, wakes up around the same time every night now...), to walking through the hallways wondering when she was going to come, to listening to her heart beating on the inside for hours only to, within minutes, hear her heartbeat on the outside for the first time - I am overwhelmed by the mystery of human creation. It's not just that God gave her blue eyes, ten tiny fingers and toes, and a precious button nose; it's that this bundle of joy started out as a dream quite literally the size of a peppercorn at her beginning and now she's this. 

    As much as I don't want her to grow, because I love how tiny and precious she is, I am in awe of the miracle that she is. Day by day, it doesn't seem like she gets much bigger, but when we hit milestones like having to size up in diapers or buy new jammies because she is bursting out of her old ones, I am fascinated that one day, this tiny human might have her own tiny humans. I am in awe of the fact that not only will we watch her learn letters and numbers, or discover her likes and dislikes, but we will also watch her fall in love and become a being all unto her own. As my MIL told me, if I didn't watch Joe grow up, I wouldn't have you. It's amazing; this journey of parenthood. 

     I've read so many articles on being told to enjoy it while it lasts but coming from mothers who find it difficult to do so when the baby is screaming or fussy or it's frustrating to not be able to be your own person anymore, because there's always a tiny human attached to you. Maybe it's my blessing, and I'm trying not to brag, but I am in love every second; even when she wakes me up in the middle of the night or poops all over her outfit for the 5th time in one day. If anything it means she is alive, she is with me and she is a gift from God. 

      Aside from all of this absolutely in love, mushy gushy feelings about my baby, I have also discovered a whole new love for my husband. I had no doubt in my mind that he would become a great daddy. I love the moments I get to witness and overhear when he is with her. Whether it's the moments when I hear him singing to her while he changes her diaper or when he's walking her around the house when she's fussy saying, "Daddy is here; you are safe," over and over, I am filled with happiness. He has never failed me as my husband and now, he is blossoming into an amazing father. We laugh together about the things we didn't know, we experience frustrations together when we can't figure out why she's upset, but my favorite thing to do together with him is just watch her. I have fallen more in love every day than I ever thought possible. As much as I thought I loved him then, I love him even more. He loves staring at her, wondering at her creation, and I love watching him watch her and fall in love with her. I never thought I could love more than I already did, but I was happily proven wrong. It's a great mystery: the creation of life and how one's life, as a result of another life created, continues to grow, form and be blessed in all the surprising ways. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8Tgw0V2XkQ

A Week of Little Miracles

"I still get wildly enthusiastic about the little things...

I play with leaves, I skip down the street and I run against the wind."

- Leo F. Buscaglia

     One of my most favorite things in the world is feeling the wind. Literally, I love having my hair blow in my face or my skirt get rustled or even just the breeze on my cheek. DISCLAIMER: I do NOT like the harsh, bitter, angry winds of winter that cause my face to get all crackled and yucky. I'm a fan of the spring breezes that come when the sun is shining on my face. I like the wind that comes when you're driving down the highway with the windows down on the way to the beach. I love standing in the middle of back campus with my arms spread to the wind, with my eyes closed, imagining that at any moment I might actually be picked up by the wind and be able to fly. 

     This week we have been blessed with a beautiful bout of Spring weather. While I slept most of the day on Sunday (to recover from SEARCH), I have spent the rest of my days enjoying the outside and counting my blessings. On Tuesday, I was so blessed to gather a group of my new SEARCH Family members together and head out to Chipotle (which, if anyone cares, is my FAVORITE "fast food"...you know, if you wanted a lunch date or anything...) In the car, we rolled down the windows, and blasted our SEARCH VII song "Live Your Life." We serenaded the people in the Chipotle parking lot, the people in the Gabriele Library parking lot, our friends who we drove past. We sang at the top of our lungs and felt infinitely free. I guess warm weather can do that to you. This all motivated me to punch out eight pages of my English Seminar Paper (aka the current bane of my existence). 

     On Wednesday, because I had finished so many pages of my seminar paper, I didn't have to go to the library class for Seminar. So, I took a nice long walk while my laundry was being done. I love walking across the street at the Motherhouse, one because I know how far I've walked and two, because usually I'll see a friendly nunny face. This time around, I knew it was a little too early for the nunnies to be out walking, so I was surprised to see not only one, but FOUR sisters. Here's the catch: not a single one of them was an IHM. On my second lap around the building, I met two beautiful Capuchin Poor Clare Sisters. I saw them coming out of the building from a distance and thought immediately that they might be Carmelites. I LOVE CARMELITES. But alas, they were not...and my nunsense should have known better. The Sisters stopped and spoke with me for a while. I told them who I was (a Senior across the street) and we chatted about life. I asked them where they were from (Mexico, originally) and they invited me to come visit their convent in Delaware. They were super cute and precious with their accents and at the end of our conversation asked me if I ever thought about being a Sister because I would make a great one. I smiled and giggled a little before admitting that I had been discerning for quite a few years now. Of course, they promised to pray for me and then we went our separate ways. 

     By the next corner of my walk, two other Sisters, not dressed in a habit, were walking toward me. I greeted them saying, "Hi Sisters," and after they said hello in return, asked how I knew they were Sisters. Well...it's my nunsense, I told them. We laughed and they asked who I was and what exactly brought me over to the Motherhouse on my walks. I explained that I love seeing the nunnies around but also that I love walking over there because of the peace it brings. They also asked about my studies and when I told them I wanted to be a teacher, one Sister said, "Well, maybe you could be a nun." I smiled and asked her if she really thought I could. When she said yes, I thanked her for being another confirmation in my discernment. She smiled and we went our separate ways.

      I couldn't thank God enough for the gift of those random four Sisters who had been such beacons of light on my journey. In a time when I have been stuck choosing between so many goods, these Sisters reminded me of the original joy that brought me to all these choices: pure love of God and a desire for religious life. They reminded me of the joy I have for living and essentially refilled the tank in which held my stamina to plow through this time of intense decision making. As I walked back to do switch my laundry, I couldn't help but spread open my arms and let the Lord "sweep me off my feet" again. 

      On Thursday, the working day was long. I can't even really remember what I did at work on Thursday but I remember this: lunch and walks with Sis afterward. It was later in the afternoon than usual when we "got done" work and she decided she was going to lunch in the caf. I asked if I could join. We strolled into the caf to find it mostly empty since it was past prime feeding time at the zoo...I mean, past normal lunch time for most students...except for a few tables, one of which was a table of all my friends. We do this thing where we try to fit as many people around a round table as possible. It's quite obnoxious really and there's not rhyme or reason. Not a single one of us has ever thought of maybe sitting at a long table where we could all fit comfortably. Nope, we like the round table. So anyway, Sis and I pick up lunch and since my table of friends was really crowded, we sat at the round table next to them. I told Sis, "We need to be extra loud so they are all jealous of our two person table." She laughed and even one of my friends switched tables. 

       After enjoying almost 45 minutes of simple lunch time conversation, I went out on a whim and asked her if she wanted to join me on a lap around the building...walking that is, not running. Without hesitation she said yes and so off we went on our lap around the building. The thing I love most about Sis is that we can either had a full conversation for hours or we can sit (or walk) in silence. There's no need to fill the silence and when we walked, on occasion there was conversation, but we walked in silence a good amount of the time and I loved that. Finally, it was time to part and as I said goodbye to her for the day, I realized that these are the little moments in life I am truly going to miss when it comes time for me to leave IU. 

      Friday was yet another day of work study with Sis, only this time we moved boxes from one closet in one building to another closet in another building using, of course, a nun gogo mobile. By the time we had finished all of that, there were a few things that needed to be done on the computer and before I knew it, I was back in the office. I took up residency in my favorite chair and as she spoke, I slightly nodded off. I may have actually fallen asleep for a few minutes, but soon she was telling me it was time to call it quits for the day. That's when Sis drove me (and the nun gogo mobile) home. 

       The miracles don't stop there; my weekend was full of them. Saturday night was Mr. IU and I was blessed to be a part of it in two capacities: one as a dancer in one talent act during which we chacha-ed to "Save The Last Dance For Me" and an escort for one of my best friends. Afterward, the night was spent celebrating with friends. Sunday, one of the best days, was the beginning of Holy Week. I found myself singing at the top of my lungs with Sister Regina preparing for the Mass earlier than usual for a Sunday morning. Palm Sunday is probably one of my favorite celebrations at IU because we have a procession from the Rotunda to the Chapel. Also, it's one of the days I get to wake up all the Villa kids with my singing. Sis even "joined the choir" for the morning which was a great moment for us choir kids. During the hours between Masses was our semesterly honors convocation during which I almost cried since it would be my last one. I looked out at the audience and saw my Dad, my little Sister, my friends and...Sis. 

       I can always count on her to be somewhere in the audience during these times of celebration. She has her usual spot and her usual partner in crime most of the time. I can look out and see her standing or sitting there just watching, being attentive and listening to all that is going on. I'm not sure why she makes an appearance all the time; she doesn't have any reason to HAVE to be there but she's there. She's an image of support and love for all the students. She might not know a single person personally getting awarded or participating, but I can guarantee you, she will be there shining as a number one cheerleader for the students at this school. She's always there and I'm glad she's always there. 

        Finally, I think my biggest little miracle came Sunday night during Palm Sunday Mass when I looked up to scan the crowd of students and people. We were singing "Now We Remain" a song I pretty much have memorized from all the years singing it at church. As I was searching the crowd, I saw Sis sitting peacefully with her eyes close just singing her little nunny heart out. That's when a lump rose in my throat and almost couldn't sing for the rest of the hymn. I realized at that moment that of all the people I will eventually have to say goodbye to in these next few weeks, she is going to be the hardest. After Mass I found myself sobbing in Marian chapel (when I say sobbing, I mean gross sobbing...tears and snot down my face, yum). I was thinking of the Sisters, my Sisters, who have basically raised me from baby Freshmen to young college woman Senior who is ready (or not so ready) to conquer the world. I have spent every day of my college career with these women - seeing them at daily Mass and then in classes. I have spent hours laughing with them, chatting with them, loving life with them. They were a family of stability for me for FOUR years and now suddenly, I won't be with them anymore. I think I've spent more time with them than I have with even my friends. As I sobbed a few Sisters walked in through chapel and I didn't do much to hide the tears, I just smiled. Saying goodbye to them is going to be the hardest thing in the world. 

      After crying, I went upstairs to my room and wrote Sis a letter, which we talked about yesterday. I went in for "work study" and spent an hour with Sis chatting about life, the here and now and the future. I cried a little, and there's a lump in my throat now as I write this. We laughed about my yellow ducky umbrella that was causing a commotion in the hallway and discussed dates of summer activities. Oh we did one productive thing for work study yesterday: planned a shopping list for our post-retreat pasta party. I must not forget the productivity! Of course, after all the talking, I wound up being a few minutes late for class but that's really because I stopped to share my umbrella with Sister Annette who was getting pummeled by the nasty sideways rain. I sat in class and smiled; these past few days have truly been a day of little daily miracles. If I was open to the idea of baby miracles, I would have never noticed how blessed I had been last week simply because of the conversations that took place or the silence my heart was given. I am so blessed by little miracles. Of course, I think I'm really thanking God for each of those little moments whether it's a few minutes of a conversation or a walk around campus in silence that was spur of the moment with my sisters. Truly these girls are my miracles everyday. They give me so much life and they may never know how much of an influence they have had on my life. They have helped me grow into who I am today and I cannot be anymore grateful. The truth is I'm not ready to say goodbye, so until the time comes, I'll be embracing these little miracles day by day. 

New Year's Resolutions in New Orleans

"Don't you just love those long, rainy afternoons

in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - 

but a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands - 

and who knows what to do with it then?"

- Tennessee Williams, "A Streetcar Names Desire"

    As some of you may know, I recently got back from my fourth tour in New Orleans, a place that always has a HUGE piece of my heart. Going back this time, I expected to see my old friends, familiar faces and places, and experience a lot of the same things I had experienced the past three visits save for the warm weather of my new May trips. All of that happened, but so did so much more. I was blessed to have gone with some of my very best friends. I was even more blessed to make a bunch of new friends. I was blessed to be welcomed home by my NOLA family at Corpus Christi. But I was also blessed my many surprises. One of which, I still am having a hard time fathoming as reality. 

    On New Years Day, since it was an off day for the SBP crew, our IU work crew headed into the French Quarter for the day. We started out with Mass at the Cathedral which was beautiful. As I was sitting there, waiting for Mass to begin, three sisters walked in. Jokingly, my friends look down the pew and go, "Hey Becca, Nuns." Thanks, guys. But in all reality, my nunsenses had been going off and I already saw them. One of my friends, who had just pointed out the obvious, then asked, "What community are they?" "Daughters of Charity," I answered without skipping a beat. They laughed in disbelief but I just knew they were the DCs. So, after Mass, I went up to the three sisters, one of whom looked oddly familiar to me. I asked them what community they were and when they said, "Daughters of Charity," I childishly turned around and stuck out my tongue. I was right.

     Sister Ellen began asking me questions like where I was from, who I was, what was I doing in New Orleans during my Winter Break, etc. As I was answering her questions, the sister on my right, Sister Salvatrice, listened diligently. Finally she asked if I was Becca Gutherman and if I had gone to a FOCUS conference three years ago in Baltimore. Blown away, I answered yes, not knowing what was going to come next. She then told me that I had had a conversation with her about discernment at the conference, after which, she wrote my name down on a piece of paper and stuck it in her office book. She had been praying for me every day since the day I met her. With tears in my eyes, I hugged her and thanked her. Sister Ellen then took our picture and I made her promise to send it to me when she got the chance. I got the picture this morning!

      As soon as I walked out of the Cathedral, I called my go-to processor, you know, the one who helps me process all things nun-related that are gifts from God, Kristie. I told her the story and she reminded me that the day I was coming home was St. Elizabeth Ann Seton's feast day, the saint who founded the sisters here in the USA. Wow. Just wow. After ending the call, I began to truly reflect on what had just happened to me. 

     The priest at Mass had said that instead of making New Year's Resolutions, we should make New Year's petitions. I really loved what he said so much that I started taking notes on an empty church offering envelope. He said that resolutions are often broken, but petitions are something we do because we are broken. He said that resolutions are people centered and that petitions are God-centered. He urged us to make New Year's Petitions instead of Resolutions. So, I did. I started with petitioning for my family, my friends and my nunnies. Then I asked for one specific petition: confirmations of my vocation. Well, God, as the funny guy He is, assured me that He would continue to answer this petition by giving me the gift of the Daughters of Charity, in particular, Sister Salvatrice. I am astonished by how many people tell me they are praying for me. I am sure that many I do not know are praying for me. But what amazed me so greatly was that meeting Sister Salvatrice was a blur in my memory. Yet, she remembered me. She remembers me every day in prayer and has, by name, since the day I met her. It still gives me the goosebumps.

     My first trip to New Orleans back in May 2011, a few months after I had met Sister Salvatrice, I was sitting in the French Market with my friends on a Saturday afternoon. As we were all taking bites of Gator, two Sisters walked down the center of the market. I happened to turn at the right moment and one of the sisters caught my glance. Without saying anything, she started her way to our table of IU friends. She put a hand on my shoulder and began a casual conversation with us. As she was leaving, she patted my shoulder and said, "I'll be praying for you, sunshine. You'll make the right choice." At that time, I was in a serious doubt of my vocation to religious life. But at that moment, God sent me another sign, another confirmation that I am truly called to this life. I never heard from or saw those sisters again, but I think about them often. 

      It blows my mind how God had started my journeys to New Orleans with the sisters down there confirming my vocation and then ending them with the same. It didn't hit me until Friday night, when I was out talking with Miss Monique and her mom that it would be my last trip to New Orleans as an IU Undergraduate. It made my heart smile from all the good that I have experienced here but also so sad to be leaving a place I love so much. I know I'll be back but in that moment it felt as if I would be leaving for good. That's when I made another New Year's petition: Dear God, please bring me back to these people who I love so much and protect them until I can return. He may not answer it this week, this month or maybe even this year, but I know one day, I'll be back in the city I love so much with the people I love so much! I cant thank God enough for all the miracles He gave me this past week. He is such a charmer!

My NOLA reflection song

My Best Friend, Katie D

"My sweetest joy is to be in the presence of Jesus in the Holy Sacrament.

I beg that when I am obliged to withdraw in body, I may leave my heart before the Holy Sacrament.

How I would miss our Lord if He were to be away from me by His presence in the Blessed Sacrament."

- Saint Katharine Drexel

      Just a few days ago, I had the realization that if we weren't blessed with a priest to say Mass for retreat, I would have the crisis of a Mass-less Sunday. Now, of course, I would try everything to get to Mass somewhere, but the problem is: this girl has no wheels. I have a mandatory meeting for my upcoming Peruvian adventure...one that I am not allowed to be late for or leave early from. This meant, I either had to find someone with wheels who wouldn't mind going to a "last chance Mass" at West Chester or I was out of luck. When I was telling one of the sisters, I actually just started crying. My tears were not sobs or forced tears. In fact, I didn't even know I was crying, until a tear dripped onto my shirt. I didn't know what to do; my heart was literally breaking at the knowledge that I could quite possibly not be able to be united with the love of my life in the Most Blessed Sacrament. So...what did I do? Well, I called on my Facebook prayer group and asked for their prayers for my special intention. BUT, I also called my best friend, and told her about my predicament knowing that she would understand exactly how I felt. Of course, she took care of it. 

      I carried the crisis (and that's what it really was...a crisis) on my heart all day. Needless to say, I fell into my very quiet, problem-solving self. All day I was constantly thinking about how I (and my fellow retreatants) could get to Mass. Eventually, I wound up with a few "worse case scenarios" but I knew they still weren't the answer to my prayers. Even after talking to someone about, I was still in a predicament-plagued, heavy-hearted mood. I definitely moozied on through my day. However, there were a few spots of sunshine in my day when I randomly saw Sister Cathy. Seeing her more times than I normally would on a Monday gave me some hope that I would get the answer to my prayers soon. I felt that her over joyous smile was Heaven's hope to my heart. 

      Soon, the time came for me to head to the Motherhouse for work and still, I had no answer. I prayed as I walked across the street, feeling the heaviness in my heart. It wasn't a heaviness of guilt that I wouldn't get to Mass, but rather a deeper pain. It's a pain almost like that of an aged couple where one is suffering from Alzheimer's and cannot remember his wife so much so that he cannot live with her. The wife desires so much to be able to at least hold his hand or kiss him again, but he refuses to be touched. The wife, while knowing she can visit her beloved cannot kiss his lips and feel the physical uniting with her husband. I would be able to visit my Beloved in the chapel, but I would not be able to taste His Goodness on my lips or unite my soul to Him in the Eucharist. My heart simply broke and gloom filled the cracks. 

      The Motherhouse was very quiet for a typical Monday night, but I guess the oh so attractive scaffolding has been scaring away visitors...well, at least to the front door. I easily fell in the quiet pace of reading the most horrendous book for class and let God take care of the rest. I happened to look up from my book at the same time the Mother General was walking into Chapel. I smiled, not thinking she saw me before she opened the door, but then she pressed her face to the stained glass door, smiled and wrapped her arm around the door the wave. Once again, she became a glimmer of hope for me. After supper, she came through the "Portress Fortress" just to "catch up" on my life and hear the good news about Peru (we just ordered our plane tickets yesterday...IT'S ON!) and everything else. She playfully mocked my inked hand (where I had written down ALL my play lines...) and my bright yellow nail polish. Of course, I think she was just jealous about the nail polish. Regardless, the few minutes I had conversing with her was actually exactly what I needed. It was just a few minutes and I began to feel hopeful. However, it wasn't until Sister San came to visit me that I knew I was going to get an answer to my prayers. 

      Imagine the tiniest sister you have ever seen with the most beautiful white hair and most gentle eyes. She came almost dancing off the elevator. Now, you must understand that sister and I share a very special bond. We have a HUGE devotion to St. Katharine Drexel and she knew the closest SBS sister, Sister Thomasita, I ever had. I found out not too long ago, that Sister Thomasita would frequent the IHM Motherhouse just to visit her. She walked the same hallways I do now. And how perfect that our paths crossed once again. Last night, when Sister San came dancing into the "Portress Fortress," she handed me a tiny, paisley jewelry box. I asked her if I should open it and she said, "Yes! Of course!" So, I gently opened the box and inside was a medallion with Saint Katharine Drexel on the front. My mouth curved into a smile and my heart felt happy. But that wasn't the end. She asked me if I had any idea of who had given her the medallion. I said no. She then told me so gently that it was my dear Sister Thomasita. Instant tears. I leaped out of my chair, wrapped my arms around her and essentially wept uncontrollable tears into her veil. A few of the other sisters walked in and out and didn't know I was crying until I sat back down behind the desk. They didn't understand, but Sister San knew exactly why it hit me so close to the heart. Sister Thomasita is the reason I have a vocation to the church. She prayed for my vocation before I was ever born. It's a long, beautiful story and one day I might tell you, but right now, all you need to know is that Katharine Drexel used Sister San to give me the reassurance I needed to know that she was taking care of my prayers. I think after Sister San left, I cried a little more and simply ran my fingers over and over the medal, thanking God. 

       When I got back to my room after making a stop at play practice, I hopped on the computer to do some homework. Of course, like every typical person of my generation, I checked Facebook first even though everything goes straight to my phone anyway. As I was scrolling through my notifications, a little message box popped up at the bottom of my screen from Sister Cathy. Her message, "We got a priest!" I through my hands up in the air and thanked God out loud. Katharine, my girl, Katie D, my best friend, my number one God girl, did it again. She pulled through and answered my prayers while at the same time reminding me that I am loved and that right now, I am exactly where I am meant to be.

      On Sunday, my Junior class celebrated Ring Day, another IU tradition, together. A dear heart friend of mine, Kristie, an alum of IU, presented me with my ring and I was so grateful. However, she went above and beyond and got me flowers also: White lilies (for St. Joseph), White Roses (for Mary) and Yellow Sunflowers (for the Sun in my life...Jesus). Unfortunately, I didn't have a vase in my room so I asked Sister Cathy if I could share the happiness with Marian Chapel, my favorite place on Campus. She said yes and today, as I placed the vase of flowers right in front of the Tabernacle, I had this strange feeling that Katie D was standing there right next to me and all I wanted to do was hug her. I know she is always with me; she is always reminding me. And I think, as Sister Ruth Catherine, SBS, once told me, she is calling me onto something higher, to walk in her footsteps in a whole new and unique way. But I'll wait for a confirmation from her, before I let you know! One thing I am certain about is that as soon as I get to Heaven, that girl and I are having coffee forever and sharing our lives with each other, even though she'll already know everything about me! She's my best friend, and best friends just know!