The Desire of Nothingness - A Reflection on Deserts and Barranca

"The closer one becomes to approaching God, 

the simpler she becomes."

- St. Teresa of Avila

   Up until Thursday I have only had two experiences where I was traveling in a car, packed in with a plethora of other bags and odds and ends: one, everytime I move in and out of school; two, the car ride from the airport in Jamaica to Spur Tree with bags and people. Thursday, I, along with the three other girls and two sisters, piled into a car made for eight. Let me tell you, the mom van is made for eight. I have a hard time believing that at any point in time this car could actually fit eight people. Regardless, with four girls and two sisters, that was only six people. So, why was it packed? You see, our school in Miraflores, EIC, supports the Fe Y Alegría school in Barranca with their Tombola for the Kermesse. You know, that carnival type thing I described a few blog posts prior. This meant that we were taking a few of the things with us beings that Barranca is a 3.5 hour car ride away. So this girl, who loves to snuggle, got to snuggle with multiple 5kg bags of rice the whole way. Needless to say, this provoked many thoughts in my heart, mind and soul.

   First, you must know that Barranca, while being 3.5 hours away, is also one of the poorest missions of the IHM Sisters here in Perú. There is a public school there called Fe Y Alegría which is directed by three beautiful IHM Sisters. We began our journey at 6:30 in the morning, which does not really seem like such a feat anymore beings we have to catch the bus to Callou every morning at 6:50. We all piled in the car with myself in the back seat snuggling the rice and the three girls in the middle. Many of you know how much I love books and language, so of course, I brought two books with me to read to and fro in the car. As we were driving through Lima, I settled into my book and propped my leg up on some rice. This could not be that bad, I convinced myself. And in actuality, it was nothing. No problema, hermana! 

    After about an hour, we finally exited the city of Lima and were headed toward Barranca via the Panamerica Highway. At first, I was thinking to myself, that it was just like driving on the PA Turnpike to Uncle Tommys house. However, while that does seem to be an extremely extensive drive, the turnpike is surrouned by lush, green, trees and bushes. This road...hello nothingness. I was reading one minute, and the next minute, I happened to look out the window to realize the nothingness. Beautiful Nothingness. 

    We were surrounded by the desert. Having just finished The Alchemist again for the fifth time, I immediately felt like I had been thrown into the story. In this story, there is a shepherd boy searching for his treasure. He travels far and wide all through various different climates and countries, but the majority of the book takes place in the desert. While I have always loved the book (I mean, I have read it five times and still, everytime I find something new and fantastic in it), it did not truly hit my heart until that drive through the desert. You see, for those who have not read it, the shepherd boy realizes that he always had his treasure and it was always simply present. Suddenly, I realized, like he had realized, my truest desire in the world. 

    Perhaps I have written about it before, perhaps not. In my heart, there has always been this desire for nothing. Now some of you might say, why would an English major state it that way as opposed to I have never desired anything? Well, you see, the two statements are extremely different. I have never NEVER desired anything; every human heart desires something. My heart has always desired nothing, or rather, nothingness. It is not a poverty, but rather an extreme richness. But how can one desire nothing? 

    Think about the desert. If you have never seen one (and I had never seen one until just this past week), google an image. Look at the wide horizon of NOTHING. There is only sand. Every so often, one will come across an oasis, but more than not, there is nothing but sand, sand, sand and some sun. As we were driving through the desert, I watched the minutes of nothingness pass by my window. Deep down inside, I found this desire for that nothingness. The desert is full of the bare minimum. I stared out the window and imagined myself simply standing in the middle of the desert: just me and absolute nothing else but sand. There were no houses, no animals, no cars, no walkways. NOTHING. The desire grew and grew with each passing moment, that is, this desire I have always had. 

    I fell asleep to a dream-like image of me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a backpack filled with necessities. So often, I want to throw my hands up in the air and let go of every single thing that posesses me including things, places and people. I imagined just letting go of everything I have ever owned, or what had ever had hold over me. I wanted nothing to hold me down so that I could fully do Gods work, what He wants of me. If I am posessed by places or people, I can never do His work completely. For example, if I had a fear of leaving my beloved home of Croydon, I would never had made it to Jamaica, Peru or even Immaculata. And imagine all the people I never would have met. But for a greater example, if I could never leave my family, while I love them so dearly, I could never enter a religious community. They say, what you give up, you are given tenfold in return. And is that not the truth. Every single time I give up what I am so blessed to have in my comfortable home, like family, I am given tenfold in return. Every where I go, I gain new family members, new sisters, new brothers, new mothers, new fathers. Of course, for my family reading this, NO ONE CAN EVER REPLACE YOU. But, if I could never let go, I would never be as blessed as I am. 

    I have always felt this desire to let go of everything, to let my heart be posessed by this nothingness like the desert. Because if I have nothingness, then I can only be filled with more. Imagine like this: you have a glass of water, half full. You do not want to drink it for fear that you will never have anything to drink again. A waiter comes around with a silver pitched and asks if you want more to drink, but he can only fill your cup if it is empty first. Not wanting to drink the water, for fear that there is nothing in the pitcher, you deny the waiters offer and continue to sit, with your half full glass of water. A few moments later, you realize that the waiter has been filling others glasses with the most delicious of wines. Even if the waiter had been able to fill your cup with the water in it, the water would have diluted the wine and decreased its value. Because you were fearful to let go of the water, you missed out on the blessing of the best wine. Your heart is like that. Jesus only wants to fill us with good things, but if we cannot first empty our hearts and possess nothingness, we cannot be filled. Jesus will fill our hearts despite the things we hold onto, but those things dilute the blessings. This is how I have always felt. I want my heart to be an empty glass so Jesus can fill me with good things. Nothingness, like the desert.

    I awoke from my "sleep" the moment we hit the dirt road that lead us to Barranca. In fact, I flew off the seat. Where on earth are we? my human senses asked. And then I saw the houses, the motortaxis, the school and fell in love. THIS IS WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS DESIRED. The nothingness of the poor, because as much as they do not have, they are filled with happiness that the rich cannot possess. We were so blessed to walk around the school and meet the children of Fe Y Alegría. I was even able to do basic math with the first graders (thank God I know my numbers in Spanish). Hugs and kisses were given all over the place and the children, despite not knowing a word of English understood. The sisters, by their very example, increased my desire to love and serve the poor, with my heart of nothingness. In fact, within a half hour, I had already told Sister Teresa Catherine, I was staying. She, of course, said that I had probably said that everywhere I have gone in Perú. But no, I told her, this is it. This place, this beautiful place, is the very desire of my soul. I stood on the patio, watching the children, being a recipient of so much love, and just knew in my heart, that the desert had spoken to my soul so truthfully. I have a heart MADE for nothingness. I have a heart made for nothingness so that I can love each and every soul, whether rich or poor, with the fullest of capacities. Yes, I know I am made for this. 

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

Learning How To Fall Into Solidarity - A Reflection on Wes Moore

"Are you going to partner with someone because you know them? 

Or because they are fellow IU students?

Or because they are fellow human beings?

You're more similar than you think. "

- Professor John Church

      One little known fact about me is that from the moment I turned 15, I wanted to earn my pilot's license for small aircraft. Whenever I'm asked during an icebreaker what superhero power I would love to have, I always say to fly. There is just something so great about being able to fly OR having the wind at your face. The goal to earn my pilot's license came as a result of a few reasons: First, I could have a pilot's license before a driver's license. Second, two of my uncles are licensed pilots. Third, something about growing up to being a sister who had her pilot's license was enticing. And fourth, it coincided with another one of my goals.

       Honestly, when I was bout 15 years old, I made a list of 25 life goals. Some were a little crazy like "swim with polar bears or some other 'dangerous' animal" and "live in Africa." But others were a little more reasonable like, "get my pilot's license" and "jump out of a plane." Yes, I've always wanted to go skydiving. Now, of course, I wouldn't do both things at once, that is, fly the plane, then jump out of it. But, I wanted to do those crazy things. However, those were the dreams of a naive teenage girl and I had since put those dreams to the wayside. Until last Thursday.

        One of my many roles on campus is an First Year Experience (FYE) Mentor. This means I "co-teach" a class of new students once a week with a faculty member. During class we cover all types of subject matter such as school policies, academic success, time management and the common reader. The common reader is always my favorite part. The whole class of 2016 (and every new class coming in) has to read a book. This year's book was The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore. In addition to actually reading the book, the students have to write a reflection paper on the book and attend a faculty lecture on the book. My job's easy, I just have to read the book. And maybe attend a faculty lecture. Ok let's be honest, I'm a literature dork, so of course I'm going to attend probably all of the faculty lectures! I started with the first faculty lecture this past Thursday. 

        The lecture began by Professor Church telling us how to jump out of a plane as a paratrooper. Professor Church is not only a wonderful English Professor, but also a retired member of the US Marine Corps. So when he speaks, he doesn't speak, he yells. I love his energy. Over 110 new students, in addition to many FYE mentors, and some other faculty members were present. I'm not going to lie, if I was a new student and had never met Professor Church, I probably would have been scared out of my seat. He told us all to link arms and so we did; all of us. Then he kept shouting "six minutes," "five minutes," "one minute," "thirty seconds," and he had us all standing up, linking arms, swaying back and forth, shouting back his commands. All of a sudden, I felt like I was really jumping out of a plane. But, right before he should have shouted, "Jump!" he calmly said, "Sit down." 

        Having not read the book yet, I had no idea why this played any role in Professor Church's lecture. Regardless of this fact, he easily wove it into so many beautiful and wise statements. Lucky for me, I started and finished the book yesterday while at work. It was the type of book that I was so into, I couldn't put it down. Whenever the phone rang at work, I didn't answer until I finished the paragraph. And when the book ended, I openly shouted, "What? It's over? It can't be over." Yes, I want a sequel. But the truth is, there can't be a sequel; it's a true story. And right toward the end of the book, one Wes Moore goes through his first jump out of a plane as a paratrooper, while the other Wes Moore is being chased by the police for the murder of a police officer. Both experiencing adrenaline, but of two different sources. 

        Finally, I had the connection between the paratrooper exercise we did at the faculty lecture and the book. But really, there was so much more with which I could connect. It was a story of solidarity and of understanding. Of two different people realizing so much similarity between themselves. For many it's hard for us to imagine poverty. Even if we don't have time for a job between classes, or take a vow of poverty, or don't have a car. But the truth is, we are so rich; I am so rich. I have a roof over my head, a family who loves me, and a hot meal every night for dinner. I go to school, I go to the store, I go to the gym with ease. I don't see any gunfire, or heroine use, or severe alcoholism. Not when I'm here at school. However, only a few steps outside my hometown, all of that poverty is right before my eyes. Every scene that Wes Moore described in his Baltimore City or The Bronx, I've seen before. I know it's real. I see it all the time.

        Professor Church covered all types of things in his lecture about poverty and solidarity. He said, "If we just took the time to get to know each other, we'd find that the more we know about each other, the more similarities we find." That really hit my heart. It's so true. There might not be that many differences between myself and the homeless teenager I see walking down the street when I'm home. Yes he might be younger than me, and a young man, but maybe his favorite color is yellow, maybe he likes the Phillies, maybe he has two sisters, maybe he likes to paint, maybe, just maybe, he's not that different from me at all. And that's what both Wes Moore and Professor Church were trying to make young people like myself understand. It all goes back to the paratroopers. We can't stay in the plane, we have to jump, but we have to jump together. Am I willing to "partner" with someone who appears so different? Am I willing to take the chance? Am I willing to risk my own life, maybe, by reaching out to them?

         Right before I got to college, I took a few ridiculous goals off my list, revised a few old ones and   added a few new ones. I always wanted to teach, but going to college made that a reality. So what? What did I want to teach?  Who did I want to teach? Where did I want to teach? Why did I want to teach? Originally I wanted to teach Theology, but somehow English squeezed into the picture. I think it all makes sense now. I want to teach students, from all different cultural backgrounds and in the inner city of Philadelphia's poorest neighborhoods. Why? Not to save these students from some type of crime, gang life, or drug and alcohol addiction, but to feel solidarity with my fellow human beings, my brothers and sisters in Christ. I want to live what they live and work for a better world in solidarity with all people. That goal is more like a dream, a dream formulated by so many, including both Wes Moores and Professor Church.

Poverty, Chastity, And Obedience - Take One

"Ecce Ancilla Domini, Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum.

Ecce regnum Dei intra vos est."

- Profession Cross of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth

      When I think of these words, instantly memories flood my heart and soul. Ever since I "officially" started discerning, over five years ago in my Sophomore year of high school (this was the first 'discernment' weekend), these words have been a part of me. As high school students we were sent on a scavenger hunt throughout the entire convent and the outside surroundings. A series of questions such as "What is S. Michele's license plate number?" (I can't remember!), "What is the statue of Mary missing out front?" (her thumb), "What is S. Jeanette's charge?" (keeping the candy dish filled...still have yet to find that), and "What are the words inscribed on the sisters' crosses and rings?" (see above). With energy and determination, my best friend, Brianna, and I went in search of the answers only to have the last question answered by our dear S. Terri. I remember later that night reflecting on her story (I was to soon learn that she always had a story) of her cross. I was in awe of the love of which she spoke, truly speaking about the love of her life. Her eyes were filled with sparkle and love for this Jesus who she loved so much. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Your Will. The Kingdom of God is within you," she said as she reflected on her own first profession of vows. To this day, that memory, the memory of the first time I ever heard those words, remains in my heart. 

      Now, today, I have a new memory to go along with those beautiful words. I was (and am still) so blessed to be a part of my dear friend, Sister Maria Sophia's, discernment and vocation journey. I can remember the days when I barely knew her and I find it so shocking that today, I was crying as I was hugging her, congratulating her and telling her how proud I was of her. From being that shy Geometry substitute teacher who barely spoke a word outside of the classroom, she has become one of my best friends, constantly bubbling with words of wisdom for me in my own discernment. She has come far from being the woman who calmed my tears and fears about Chemistry and has become an inspiration for me, a reason to "plow through" those tough times of discernment, and a beacon of hope for my own future. And today, I was so blessed to be present at her First Vow Profession during which she received her black veil and her profession cross, and professed the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. 

       The ceremony was absolutely beautiful. I cried multiple times, at her literal profession, at her thank you speech, at her uncle's homily during which he said, "God sends us. Let us go wherever He sends us knowing that you and I may be the perfect person for the person we are being God for," and so much more. I could not help but smile the entire time at the beauty of it all! And to have my little sister right next to me, having just as big a smile, made the day so much better! Everything from the words spoken, to the songs sung, to the family and friends, was perfect! 

       After the ceremony, the traditional lunch was served and I sat surrounded by so many of my dear Sisters and sister! It was so great to see the beautiful, happy, smiling faces of so many who have been in the same position before, and so many faces looking forward to their special day! I was surrounded by sisters I had never met (though there were few...success!) and plenty of sisters who consider me the "little sis." Even though I love all my sisters so greatly, I was so excited to see my Chicago-ites for the first time since February (I sincerely miss that place). There were plenty of hugs and kisses and words of wisdom to go around, and both my little sister and I had our share of the popularity. My little sister, obviously because she's cute and adorable and precious. And me? Well, I'm Becca....everyone knows Becca apparently! But really, seeing and celebrating with everyone truly warmed my heart. It made me anxious and excited for my day, whenever God chooses that day for me! 

        Until then, however, congrats Sister Maria Sophia on your First Vows! May God truly watch over you! I'm so proud of you, my big sister!

Let It Be, Let It Be, Let It Be...Done to Me

     This day in history: John Lennon was shot in 1980; in 1660, the first women to ever appear on stage in England performs in Othello; and Uzbekistan celebrates its Constitution day. However, there is one more extremely important thing that happened this day in history....decades and decades ago: Mary, Most Holy Mama of the Church, was conceived WITHOUT SIN! WOAH! She is the only person ever to be born without the stain of original sin and thus, we celebrate her goodness on December 8, every. single. year.

    When I was little, the feast of the Immaculate Conception was just another Holy Day. But then I went to college and realized how big a deal this day is. She is my school's patron as well as the sisters' patron. Feast Day is celebrated every year with a HUGE mass and then a HUGE feast in the cafeteria. AND there are no classes for the day; everyone has off, including faculty. And so, it ensures that everyone can celebrate!

     Last year, I was one of three members of the choir who sang for Mass. This year, there were nine of us and it was so beautiful. Words cannot explain how much my heart is lifted during this ONE TIME that I get to sing for the "piano nun." She doesn't play at our Sunday Masses and if I never went to daily Mass, I would never hear her play. You have to understand how accomplished this woman is. She plays the piano, the organ, is on numerous Liturgical Music boards and is simply amazing. She is a doctor of music and it is more than an honor to sing for her. It is even MORE of an honor to have her ask you to solo and then tell you how great of a job you did. Ah, that was what happened yesterday. She knows my FAVORITE composition of the Alleluia (only TRUE liturigical musician geeks can say that!) is the Weston Priory AND, we used it yesterday. Not only that, but she asked me to intone it. I was floating on High Heaven's cloud. 

     During Mass, my most favorite part is when the Sisters renew their vows. All of the sisters (and that's a :

lot) stand while we, the congregation, kneel. They say together, "Almighty and eternal God, I, Sister...., renew and confirm with all my heart, the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, which I made at my profession, and I implore your grace to accomplish them perfectly. May my life be one of faithful love, may it reflect my total dependence on you, may my will be Your will alone. In the imitation of Jesus and Mary, I make my prayer forever. Amen." Imagine how my heart was beating!!!!!! To hear those words and to know that someday I might say them at my final profession and a hundred times after truly brought tears to my eyes! God is so good. 

    After Mass, my friends and I, among the sisters (who were also floating on clouds of happiness), dined at the great feast of delicious foods. My day was then followed by a nap, a date with one of the sisters, work and homework. Oh I can't forget A Year Without A Santa Claus (yes, we watched it.) and ending the night by tweeting the Magnificat back and forth with one of the sisters over Twitter, then skyping her after I facebook chatted her until one am. Needless to say, my day in Honor of Mary was spectacular and SO REAL in the life of a college student.