A blog sharing the journey of a young woman discerning her role in the world as a contemporary Catholic. Here she tells numerous stories of service, prayer, struggle, nuns, her students and her family. Each day is a beautiful one and why not spread the goodness?
"Discernment has no beginning or ending; it lasts a lifetime.
It can change form, however, from a conversation and prayer
between you and God, to conversation and prayer
between you, God and your future spouse."
Last weekend, I had the pleasure (truly, it is a pleasure) of traveling with five of my students and a colleague to Cleveland, Ohio, for our annual CSSJ Leadership Conference. It is during this conference that our students learn not only the importance of the charism, mission and history of the Sisters of Saint Joseph, but also the importance of being an active participant in it and furthering it through their lives as lay people. It is also during this conference that I am reminded of the importance of lay people ministering in the church. And thus, my most recent reflection.
There is no question that this blog began as a blog documenting the serious discernment of a young woman trying to find her vocation. There is no question that this blog remains the documentation of a young woman seriously discerning her vocation in life. Do I sound redundant? I have gone back and forth with deciding to blog about my recent engagement. We went back and forth about posting it on social media. But like all things, we took it to prayer and made a decision best for our hearts. So, I write this not because I feel I need to explain myself. But rather, because in the depths of my heart, I feel the need to express my blessings.
Joe and I decided to not post our engagement until about two weeks after the fact. He proposed to me on my 25th birthday and for about two weeks, we visited with friends and family, made phone calls and enjoyed sharing our joy as a newly engaged couple. We decided on a date, we decided on a venue, but we were still discerning how to spread the news to those we might not be able to visit or call; it would simply take our entire engagement to let people know. We decided that the easiest way was the make a subtle post on Facebook.
I'll be honest, I was unsure about it. I didn't want to answer questions I felt people shouldn't ask. But God works in ways I will never understand. We were only met with complete support. You see, despite having been in a dating relationship with Joe for three years, I had previously very seriously discerned religious life. Many people who knew me in different ways, knew that I was always open about that discernment. But, I was also very open about dating Joe, too. Believe me when I say that dating him took a year of intense prayer and saying yes to him asking me to be his wife took three long years of prayer, getting to know him and myself better, and building an atmosphere of trust and love. It was far from a rash decision.
In the middle of our dating relationship, I came home from a trip with some of my friends who also happen to be religious sisters. I remember asking Joe to walk with me and talk with me about my experience. I was trying to break up with him. He held my hand as I told him how I felt and he simply said, "I will be there for you in the church when you make your vows, whether to the church or to me. I'll always be there for you." Needless to say, that set my confused heart free. Knowing that he would support me in either vocation was enough to make me love him even more, as cliche, perhaps, as it is to say. He's simply been one of my biggest supports for seven years.
And so, our relationship developed even more. We prayed together and on our own. My discernment, my conversation between me and God, changed forms. It wasn't just me and God anymore; it was me, God and Joe. And I have no doubt that God's hand has been in our relationship the entire time. Before we started our exclusive dating relationship, we both went to different countries. I went for mission work and he went for a pilgrimage. We took those two weeks apart to pray for each other and about our relationship. Simply put, I missed him. God has blessed me with Joe as my best friend in so many circumstances. He's the one who goes to every school function with me and seemingly loves my students more than I could love them. He cheers their teams on, gives them standing ovations and supports their charity events. He spends late nights with me shopping for retreat and sacrifices so much for me. He works long days and still makes it a priority to spend as much time as he can with me.
I think the most important thing about Joe is that he makes me laugh. Whether we are singing at the top of our lungs to Broadway music, kicking each other under the table as we play cards or making up stories just to pass the time, he makes me smile. He makes friends with every person he meets and constantly tries to cheer up the cashiers at Target. He tells funny stories and always tries to get people to smile. And when I'm having a really bad day, he just reminds me of all the funny moments we've shared together. He brings out the best in me.
So how does this connect with my CSSJ Leadership Conference? Well there's one small link. Sister Phyllis told the students that learning charism, mission and history is important because it's as if the founding sisters have found these students and said, "tag, you're it." On the last night in Cleveland, Sister Phyllis and I drove together in the car and I got to fill her in on the last year of my life. We had met three years previously and stay in touch as much as time allows. After filling her in, I thanked her. Not only for listening, but for teaching me, hands-on, how important lay people are in the ministry of the church.
While I had always believed that all vocations are equal in value, I didn't realize how important the lay ministry is in furthering the charism, mission and history of the sisters for whom one might work or by whom one was taught. In my own life, I have known well four communities of religious sisters. When I was discerning religious life, I was always unsure which community fit me best. I knew that was going to be the hardest decision and in truth, I felt connected to each so deeply. But in my conversation with Sister Phyllis she told me how special it makes me to have had all these experiences with so many communities.
Indeed, there are many aspects of each community that I hold deep in my heart. I've always felt so deeply connect to the Eucharist, family has remained an important staple in my life, I have a deep Marian devotion and I often invoke creative hope in many moments of life, but I also have a sincere passion for social justice. Besides, in each community there is some connection to Saint Joseph. So now, I have my own Joseph and within me burns these charisms, these missions, and yes, these histories. As a lay-woman, not only do I get to share these with my future spouse, but also with our children and with the people who I encounter day in and day out. I can further the charisms, missions and histories in simple conversation but also in the way I live. And this, perhaps, is why God sent me on this journey.
I know that I will never be able to figure out why God gave me this journey and I know that I still have so much to learn. But I know that God has never left my side, has never stopped answering my prayers, and will never stop being present in my life. I know that the outside world may be confused about my journey, but it's my journey and that journey includes Joe, and I am at peace with this beautiful journey. There is a story, there is trust, there is peace. And no, discernment is not over, I have not "made my decision" as if I was the cliffhanger everyone was waiting for. There are many decisions to be made, discernment will not end, it simply includes one more person. And with all this talk of charism, mission and history, well let me just say. My charism is this: Luke 2:19, my mission is furthering the church and my history is a herstory, but I'll save that for another time.
But when we think 'America,' we don't usually think 'missions.'
The problem? We were and still are the missions."
Early Sunday morning (earlier than usual for a Sunday), I found myself sitting in a quiet, half-full, church with my dad. We were sitting in the pew that had the nameplate in honor of his parents. I looked around the church and saw a number of familiar parishioners. They were the parishioners who I see at daily Mass, at almost every church function, and even around my little town. They were the parishioners I love, my family. But when I looked out from my little pew, the emptiness of the church really affected me.
Our celebrant for Mass was a Holy Spirit Father currently missioned at their all boy preparatory school down the street. As he began his homily he spoke about his journey from Nigeria to Haiti to the United States. He was a young when he was ordained and felt called to missionary work. I smiled as he spoke about Haiti and his love for the people there. I thought about my children in Jamaica and Peru; memories of a missionary spirit truly in action filled my heart. I cannot wait to go back, I thought. I cannot wait to continue putting my call into action. I got a little lost in my thoughts and memories until Father started talking about his mission to the United States.
For the past four summers, I have given the Mission and History presentation at Immaculata. This, without a doubt, includes the mission and history of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. When I introduce the incoming students to Father Gillet I always ask them if they think of the United States as missionary territory. Most times I get looks that read: uh, no? we have food, water and society. OR what exactly is missionary territory? Regardless, most will not necessarily understand that the United States was a missionary territory at some point. Missionary work is not something we usually equate with the US but rather Africa, Asia or South America. Anywhere but here.
For those who are like some of the new students, Missionary Territory usually relates to a place where people are "unchurched," that is, people who don't know Jesus yet, the unbaptized, etc. Religious Priests, Brothers and Sisters go to these places to catechize and preach the gospel. More and more, lay people are also getting involved as missionaries. Some people even say, "Want to see the world? Be a missionary." Many people have the idea or the concept that in order to be a missionary you must go to a foreign country that is poor or desolate or without the bare necessities.
As I listened to Father speak about the United States as a mission country, I remembered back to a conversation I had with Sister Eileen in Peru two summers ago. She had been missioned in Chile in a poor school before coming to a higher class school in Peru. She said she missed being with the poor but eventually realized that her students still suffered from poverty. However, it was a poverty of a different kind: a poverty of communication, a poverty of conversation, a poverty of love. Many have said that after working with the poor, "they may have nothing but they still have love." Yet those who have so much do not have love. Our conversation stuck with me because while I would love to move to a different country and do missionary work, I know God needs me here and now. But as Father kept talking, I knew how right he was. The United States is a mission country more than ever, I believe.
In Sunday's Gospel Reading we heard from Matthew, "Give back to Caesar what is Caesars and give back to God with is God's." The more I reflected the more I realized that we have been doing it backwards for a very long time. You see, Jesus in this Gospel, is asked, "to whom do we pay the tax?" Basically, "If we can only serve one master, how do we get away with not serving Caesar?" Jesus never said do not pay the tax, do not do your civil duty. He encourages them do that but while doing so to give their lives to God. Caesar did not give life, God did and thus, we must not give our lives to Caesar but rather to God. Make sense? Well let's give Caesar another name...
Let's rename Caesar "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc." We won't rename God, because God, in Jesus' story was not a metaphor; Caesar was. Again, "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc." does not give us life. God, on the other hand, still gives us life. There are healthy things that can come from technology and social media and thus, we should give a bit more of our time. But more often than not, we give our lives to technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc."and not to God. If we were to live according to Jesus' message, we wouldn't spend so much time trying to connect without really connecting on social media. We wouldn't spend so much time trying to create family time by trying to find the quickest place to eat. We wouldn't try to create peace by independently removing ourselves from situations. But the sad truth of the matter is, too often this is what happens. We are giving too much of our life and time to the distractions of life, we are giving Caesar way too much tax money.
Jesus tells the people that they should be giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar. We should be giving a little bit to the positive progressions. But we have confused Caesar with God and God with Caesar. We have focused too much and made gods of the things of Caesar. We need to step back and take a chill pill for a second. We need to re-evaluate the things we have given to Caesar regardless of whether or not it is his. We need to give back to God what belongs to him. Perhaps if we started doing this, the United States wouldn't need missionaries nearly as much.
The people of the United States are hungry. But instead of filling up on healthy things like God and spirituality and religion, we are continuously going to McDonald's. I don't want a McDonald's faith. Yes, french fries are good every so often, but if we ate them every day we would be in a bad place. Our country has filled up on the very good tasting hamburgers and chicken nuggets of Caesar and not on the bounty of God. We have given so much of our time to the things that shouldn't run our lives. But we live in a world where text messaging requires instant attention. We have neglected the fact that God doesn't text but still requires our attention.
This past Sunday was Mission Sunday in our Archdiocese. We have heard so much about the foreign missions but we have neglected the fact that the United States itself is a mission territory. While I love my travels to South America, I, too, must remember that the American people need God just as much if not more than the foreign places. I see so much need for missionary work and evangelization in our country. I see it in the empty pews, the phones glued to hands of children and adults, the families that go out to eat but do not speak to one another because each person is attempting to connect with the outside world, the violence, the sadness, the poverties of a whole other kind.
Believe it or not, we are the missions. While it may seem absurd to think about because we have running water, we have food services, we have technology, we still need love and we still need Jesus. We need to stop giving Caesar way more than is due, we must start giving God what actually belongs to Him - our lives. Give yourself to God, not to "technology, social media, independence, fast food dinners, etc."
Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good.
Yours are the hands with which He is to bless all now."
- St. Teresa of Avila
Well here I am, a few days after my return back to the United States, and I still can't shake the brokenheartedness of having to leave behind so many people I love. For the past three days, I've woken up and expected to look out my window at the children of Villa Maria, La Planicie going to school. I wake up expecting that my being home in the US is actually a dream. Now don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my country of the red, white and blue, and I most certainly love my hometown of little old Croydon, but two weeks most certainly was not a long enough time in Peru. Heck, even a month last year wasn't enough. I'm not quite sure what it is about that country, but I have a love for it like no other. But I'm not going to complain about being in the wrong country anymore. Instead, I'll share with you, my experience.
For the past few months, the Sisters have been asking me if I was counting down. I said yes, but not to what they had been suggesting. Of course, being it my Senior year, they wanted to know if I was counting down to graduation. OF COURSE NOT, I would exclaim, because truly the very thought or suggestion of having to leave the noble hill was cause for a small, but rather intense emotional breakdown which included lots of sobs and snotty tissues. Okay, maybe not that drastic, but you get the point. However, I would continue, I am counting down to May 21. Many wondered why that date and not graduation, but, of course, they understood my desire for not wanting to leave the great EEEE-MOCK-UUUU-LAAAA-TAAA. So when I finally explained that May 21 would be the date of my departure to Peru, the understanding came with a sigh and a, "oh, of course, your home." How did they ever know?!
The day of graduation came and as you know, there was so much beauty from God in that weekend. However, as soon as the ceremony was over, I could not help but count down the days til we left for Peru. At that point it was three days. The excitement was building and so was the anxiety of packing. If it wasn't for Theresa texting me every half hour on Monday worrying about packing, I wouldn't have packed until Tuesday night. But thank God for friends. By Monday night, I was ready, emotionally, physically and mentally, to get on a plane and go home. But alas, God was working on my patience and so, I waited.
Wednesday morning, I headed to morning Mass at St. K's at 6:30. As I was kneeling there, praying my little heart out, as Sister "Mom" Regina would say, I happened to look up to see a familiar IHM veil. All throughout Mass, however, I could not for the life of me, figure out which nun was in front of me. So after Mass, I happened to bump into S. Anne Mark, IHM. I asked her if she knew the lady in blue and alas, she did not. So we did what any two curious characters would do and went to say hello. Suddenly, I knew exactly who she was: S. Agnes from none other than PERU. I asked her when she was going home and when she said, "in a few hours" I could hardly contain my excitement. How ironic that the two of us would be traveling to Peru on the same day?!
Within the next few hours, I was dropping Lizzie off at school and getting my traveling blessing from Sisters Jeanne and Catherine Danielle. Before I knew it, we were at the airport, anxiously awaiting the arrival of all the members in our group before we headed off. After many hours of pre-travel pictures and finally traveling, we landed in Callou, Peru, at about 11:30 their time. The night drive from the airport to our home for the next two weeks seemed like a dream. I was having a hard time believing that I was back in the country I had fallen in love with exactly a year ago to date. Yet, there I was, staring out the window at some of the most beautiful sights in the world...well, at least, to me. The strong smell of diesel exhaust was welcoming and the "almost dying by car accident" heart palpitations were exactly what I had been missing for the past year. Oh those sights, sounds (insert Oxford comma here) and smells were a joyous serenade of "Welcome Home." That night, I fell asleep feeling like the happiest girl alive.
The next day we had our full tour of Villa Maria, La Planicie. Of course, before that I went to Mass with the Sisters and half of the Confirmation class. After Mass, I not only bumped into my dear Sister Marie who was there for a visit but we also went to the May Procession for the escuelita school. If only I could put into words how stinkin' precious those little ones were with their flowers for Mary, their rosaries and their smiles of pure joy. During our day we met the faculty of VM and also got our "assignments" for the next few days. Originally we had all planned to be helping out in the escualita (literally "the little school" for the poorer children. Here the students receive breakfast and lunch as part of their school. Many are children of the people who work in the richer homes in the area as maids, cooks and landscaping aids.), however, four of us soon found out that we would be giving faith witness talks to the Confirmation class (Juniors in High School).
Speaking in front of a group of people, especially students, never ever once phased me. In fact, it has always been like second nature. I never get nervous to the same extent I do when I'm performing. Nope. Never. But as Sister Cathy says, it's okay to have butterflies, so long as they are all in the right row. And so, I couldn't have been happier than when I was standing in front of all those beautiful, young, impressionable faces as I shared my faith story. I decided to go along with how one must be a Best Friend with God (that's a WHOLE other blog post) and immediately, I saw how the students were amazed that one could actually be best friends, let alone friends, with God. Once again, I was confirmed in my vocation to be a teacher. All my life I have wanted to teach, to blow students' minds with the awesomeness of God. Giving my faith witness allowed me to do just that.
For the first day, we thought we would only be talking to the fourth year class. However, during our time, we wound up speaking to 16 classes of young women in both the Villa Maria school and Colegio San Antonio. Believe it or not, that's a lot of young women. And not only did Theresa and I speak to all those classes, but they also asked the two of us to speak about our relationship with Mary, BVM, at the Villa Maria May Procession. Every day, through our talks, through my own and the others', I was spiritually fulfilled. Sharing faith with each other is so incredibly important and I have always been so reaffirmed. Talk about real life missionary work.
Faith sharing while probably took up the most time during our mission, was not the only thing we did while in Peru. One very special place we visited was Dr. Tony's. We went our first Saturday morning in Peru, before the big Kermesse (carnival-type celebration) at Villa Maria. After about an hour drive in the very small fifteen passenger van, we arrived at the home for children. This was not an orphanage, but rather a home for children who have had various surgeries. These children come from the poor mountain regions and Dr. Tony, a doctor from the United States, oversees their surgeries which include but are not limited to cleft palate, leg surgeries, cerebral palsy therapy and surgeries to help burn victims. Although the doctor was not in for the day, we saw the entire facility and were able to spend a few hours with the children. While I enjoyed being out on the patio watching the boys with crutches play soccer as if they had no disability, my favorite part was visiting the nursery. Some have said that I speak baby-I understand those who cannot speak better than those who can. One little girl in particular was suffering from cerebral palsy and could not really move her muscles. A few of the girls went over to her crib to say hello, but when they walked away, she started crying. So I went over and gently rubbed her little arms and legs. Immediately, she looked up at me with her beautiful, big, brown eyes and stopped crying. I spoke to her softly but as I was walking away, she began to cry again. So, I went back to rubbing her little arms and legs again for about ten minutes. She was so content, that when I left again, she was okay.
Another favorite moment was when I caught Sister Annette enjoying a few minutes with a little boy on the couch. He had pulled her packet of kleenex from her purse and then proceeded to pull them all out of the packet. I was laughing so hard that she invited me over to sit with him. She eventually got up, but left us with the tissues. I wasn't sure what to do with them, so we started counting. Then he ripped one in half and thought it was hilarious, so, of course, I did, too. Eventually, he got bored with me and ran off to play with his tissues alone. Looking back, however, I realize the simplicity of the moment - like a bored little kid in church, entertained by a pack of tissues. Who would have thought?
Saturday and Sunday were filled with exciting Kermesses and Bingos at Villa Maria and Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro. Both of these days, it seemed to be a nun convention. I was so eternally grateful for these days because not only was I able to see the other four Immaculata girls who had arrived a week prior at EIC, but also all my beautiful nun friends. I could not have cared less about what was going on around me because there were too many Sisters with whom I needed to catch up. And catch up I did, especially with my EIC girls. Of course, I also met a few new Sisters, like Sister Anne. My initiation into her friendship came in twofold. First, on Saturday, she told me that her relative sister, who had been a teacher in my high school, had told her all about her. I told her the reverse was the same. For three years we had known about each other, but we had finally just met. The second part of the initiation came when at the BINGO in Montenegro, she asked me to accompany her to the market down the street. You see, we were in need of some hotdog skewers. So, we left the confines of the school and began our journey to the open market on the streets of Montenegro. Honestly, I couldn't have been happier. Not only did we chat a bit, but I also got to experience real life in Montenegro; a life I've been wanting (since experiencing it last year) to experience much longer than a day or two. That moment will forever be etched in my mind as one of the most memorable of my trip this time around.
The following week was filled with many faith witness talks, a visit to my "old stomping grounds" at Colegio San Antonio (which meant a HUGE reunion with my students, mis hermanitas, from last year and LOTS OF TEARS at our bittersweet parting), and a journey to Our Lady of Joy and Francisco Coll in Ate Vitarte. Our Lady of Joy is a home for adults who have a physical disability. It is absolutely beautiful, with physical therapy options and get this, handicap accessible bathrooms and rooms. Trust me when I say that this is a rarity in Peru. This place not only allows these beautiful people a chance to live life to the fullest despite their physical disability, but it also allows them the means to eventually be independent, that is, not dependent on their families. Many of these people were forced to believe that their physical disability was a curse from God, but now, as some told us, they can see the beauty of it. Our time spent there was beautiful.
At Francisco Coll the first day, we met Maria who showed us what she wanted us to do for the next day. It involved lots of paint and a pretty big wall. The next day we found ourselves sizing up a wall for a mural. Within a matter of minutes, I was covered in paint (shocking, I know). My job for the rest of the day was the mix the paint as Benito showed me. Good thing I remembered all those things about the color wheel from Kindergarten. Shout out to Miss O'Neil for teaching me all she knew about colors. We covered the wall in an array of handprints as butterflies, flowers and even tree leaves. The best part about this day was watching both Sister Annette and Sister Mary literally get their hands dirty as we painted their hands so that they could put their handprints on the walls. The mural turned out wickedly beautiful.
Our next weekend was spent well...doing touristy type stuff like shopping, walking through LarcoMar for ice cream, going to Mass, visiting central Lima, etc. My favorite part of the weekend, well there's two: first, it was seeing three of my lovely ladies in blue in the market from a mile away and then running at them to give them hugs. I had thought the last time I was going to see them was the previous Monday. Well, God had something else in store. My second favorite moment: getting to go back to Santa Rosa, my favorite church spot in all of Lima (and I've been to quite a few). I love St. Rose's story, even if it contained a hermitage smaller than my playhouse Barbie house, or trying her hair to keep herself awake. She was a beautiful woman of God.
Our final two days in Peru were spent in my favorite places: Montenegro and EIC. Montenegro is my favorite school for one simple reason: the simple joy emulated by the children of all ages there. Of course, there was a perk that I got to see my temporary spiritual director, Sister Liz. After the children welcomed us to Peru, they had recess. While most of the girls challenged the high school boys to a basketball game, a few of us stayed on the patio to play with the little ones. I have never seen or heard such joy from having an impromptu photo shoot. You see, I wanted to snap a few photos of the children. This small desire turned into the little ones modeling and me calling them Senor and Senorita. I have so many pictures of the girls and boys' faces smiling and jumping and screaming and laughing. Who know how awesome the words "mirame" and "sonria" really were?! At one point, after getting a tour of the school and singing and praying with the fourth year students and Sister Cathy, we climbed the infamous green stairs to the top of one of the mountains in Montenegro. The sight was breathtaking. I truly cannot put it into words. And the chapel for the school literally brought tears to my eyes, because as Sister Annette said, "Just as the IHMs started in a little hut in Monroe, this chapel started as a hut in Montenegro.
Our final stop on the tour of Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro, was the convent. I'm not sure what it was, maybe the sunflowers all over the room, maybe the little Chapel that had a window which looked directly out to the streets, or maybe the simple beauty of the building, but when I got to the rooftop, tears started streaming down my face. I wasn't sad, no, that wasn't quite it, but rather happy, so very, very, very happy. When she noticed, Sister Cathy kind of put her arm around me in an awkward side hug and said, "It's okay to cry, you know. It's okay to be a hot mess, here." I smiled and I knew she was right. Here was a place where I felt my heart yearning to stay...for a very long time. But as all good things do, our visit came to an abrupt end and I felt a piece of my heart break off to stay there "siempre."
The next day, our last day in Peru, we found ourselves in Miraflores, my literal "old stomping ground." We paid a visit to Villa Maria lower and then, walked the way to EIC, which had been my home for a month last summer. I couldn't thank God for the opportunity to spend my last hours in Peru with the Sisters I had began to call family. I felt like a welcomed home little sis as I laughed and hugged and spoke with my dear Sisters. Once a month calls helped relieve the pain of being separated for a year but nothing could quite compare to literal hugs from them. Just like "old times" Sister Eileen was challenging me to grammar wars over flat adverbs and Sister Marie and I did a good amount of faith sharing in a matter of minutes. Of course, selfies with Sister "Mom" Regina were also in store as well as a full commentary on the dances and music the boys performed by Sister Antonieta. And, I finally got my hug from Sister Anjelica, my hashtag girl. I was so eternally grateful for those few hours with the girls and the rejoicing that came after I opened my present, revealing the sign from God I had been waiting for, for two weeks. When we had to pile into, for the last time, the van, I waved at my Sisters waving back at me and could not control the silent tears that fell down my face. I felt like a little kid being separated from her family. And again, a piece of my heart was left there, as well.
Before we knew it, we were back at La Pla to finish packing and cleaning up our spaces before dinner and then before heading out the airport to begin the journey home. There's so much more to this story of my Aventura Peruana take two like climbing the Andes Mountains, hearing stories of cougars, bobcats, scorpions and rice from Sister Annette, birthday celebrations and even a flood and an earthquake. But alas, I'm so emotionally spent by writing this blog post, that I simply cannot write anymore. I promise though, to myself especially, that I will write more about my Aventura Peruana because I need to. I need to write about what happened to my heart and soul while in Peru. I need to write about my experience, but until the next blogpost, I'll keep imagining myself walking down the streets of my favorite country. And of course, praying for all of the beautiful people I met along the way. Oh and I must not forget to thank all of you who traveled prayerfully with me during my journey. Keep those prayers coming, my friends, because I know it was through your intercessions that God was so incredibly good and revealing to me. VIVIR LA VIDA!
Typically, when a college student has the "retired dean" as her teacher, she would be nervous and perhaps very wary on taking the class. Me, however? I was ecstatic. While Sister Elaine and I go as far back as my Freshmen year as "Tuesday Pew Buddies," our relationship was merely that. The only interaction that entailed was a secret handshake at the sign of peace that varied weekly. She was the academic dean of the undergraduate students. So, if you saw her, you were probably in trouble. But last semester, she had found herself out from her office and back in the classroom. Poor girl had to deal with me and five of my friends as her only students in her Ancient and Medieval Literature. As quickly as she went from dean to teacher, she went from teacher to mentor. Sister Elaine, in a few short weeks, became well....like a sister to me.
I remember it clear as day: yet another MyIU email sent out to cloud every IU student's inbox. Usually, I would read the subject box and if it didn't apply to me, I'd delete it. But this one was different. I opened it and read, realizing it was the trip I so badly wanted to go on: Peru IHM Mission Experience. And who was running to show but Sister Elaine. So, I expressed my desire to go to her but so much was on my plate that I didn't even get to think of what I was going to write for my application when I realized it was past the due date. That's when Sister pulled me aside and asked where my application was. Taking my chances, I asked for an infamous extension and it was granted. I emailed her my application over Thanksgiving and with much enthusiasm, she replied to tell me to start saving now. No one else had heard back. I thought I was dreaming. I said nothing to anyone about anything. It couldn't be true. There was no way I had been chosen as one of the four students to travel to Peru. A few days later, the official email went out and I found myself beginning a new journey.
Tonight, I sit here after having just gone to the movies (I'm a little reckless, I know!) and am thinking how blessed I am. Of course, I'm typing away hastily trying to shove the anxiety back down into my stomach. Writing distracts me. That's a secret you should all know by now. It's also what I do best! I still can't quite grasp the fact that tomorrow, I will be leaving my country for another. Not for vacation, not for tourism, but to maybe make a difference. I won't be staying for a week, or ten days, but a month. I won't be living in a hotel, a condo but a convent. I'll be wearing one of four pairs of pants, or maybe one of two pairs of shorts and one of the seven t-shirts I packed. I hope it doesn't rain because the one jacket I'm bringing, isn't water proof. Oh, and I know maybe a few phrases in Spanish. Good thing I'll be teaching English! This may be one of the most spontaneous and nerve-wrecking things I have ever done but it's a beginning to a future I have always desired.
I live for those spur of the moment moments where there is little planning and I can fit all I need for this spontaneity in one bag. Well, I have two this time, but that's okay. I desire that simplicity of a world traveling missionary. I want nothing more to travel the world lending my heart and hands to those in need. And here I am, one year after my first international trip to Jamaica, the night before I leave for Peru. I am excited and nervous and anxious all in one, as any of you could imagine. I don't know a soul down in Peru, I don't know much about anything for this trip. All I know, is that I am exactly where God wants me at this moment in time. I know that God is going to take care of me no matter what and I know that this is all part of His most beautiful plan for my life.
As I travel tomorrow, I'll be simple. A pair of shoes, jeans, a shirt and a sweater. I'll be wearing an eight dollar watch, a simple silver band on my left ring finger, and my curly hair will most likely be wild and crazy; there's no taming it. I'll be wearing a smile and carrying in my heart all who I leave behind. But most importantly, my sisters and my parents. While this is something I have always desired, this will be a true test and taste of what the rest of my life will be like. Can my parents and sisters let me go? Can they stand not being able to talk to me? Will they be okay? ..... Will I be okay being so far away and so out of touch? People have told me I am fearless. I have no fear of people or what people could do. I seemingly am not afraid to reach out and touch a stranger, or do something so crazy (like leave for a month). But the truth is, I have one fear in this life long mission of mine: can my heart stand being so far away from those I love?
So to all of you, who are excited and worried and just as anxious as I am for my mission trip, please know that I love you. I love you so much, that the very thought of being so far away from you all, fills my heart with some sort of anguish. But in saying that, I carry you all with me in my heart. I can sleep tonight with no worries because all of you are praying for me, more than I think I can even fathom. I will let my excitement run my dreams tonight. I'm not quite sure what kind of technology I will be blessed with down in Peru. If I could, I'd go without it but I know my parents and many of you will be worrying. So, look for a message here and there from the good ole Peru. I can't thank you enough, especially all my church ladies (and gents) who gave me my final blessing this morning at Mass, for all the prayers and support not only for now and this little journey of mine, but throughout my entire discernment journey. I am so blessed to have such beautiful people in my life. Of course, I kind of owe this all to my dear monjita, Sister Elaine. Thanks, girl. Don't worry, I'll give you EVERY DETAIL about this journey! And so, Adios y via con dios, mis amors. I can't wait to meet and love so many new monjitas and ninos. Te amo!
